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Disclaimer: The characters belong to NBC and MTM, I only borrowed them.
TWO ROSES
by Lucija
Lifting herself from the ground took more of her energy than she had thought it would. It wasn’t only her body that was exhausted; her mind was tired too. She’d always dragged herself here with the last dregs of her energy, but she usually went away with just enough energy to see her through the next year. Today, though, the revitalization was absent. As she was leaving, she turned back for one last look; something she’d never done in the past. It was as though she had a premonition that this would be her last visit here.
Preoccupied with her troubled memories, she didn’t notice the man standing in the shade of the nearby trees. She would have passed him by without ever being aware of his presence if he hadn’t taken the few steps necessary to block her way. She looked up then and her eyes went wide with shock before she closed them tightly, willing the image back into her memories from where she was sure it had come. It didn’t help; he was still standing there when she opened them again.
Maybe it was the place. Maybe it was her exhaustion, but she couldn’t seem to comprehend his presence in front of her. It isn’t him; it can’t be him----or, had her prayers been answered and he had come to forgive her? A wave of dizziness swept over her and, combined with her shaking knees, would have made her fall to the ground if he hadn’t extended a hand to support her. Even with his hand on her arm she couldn’t convince herself that this was really happening.
"Jarod...?"
***********************
It was that day again. The happiest, and saddest, day of the year. She wondered why, in all of the years that had passed, her feelings for this day had never changed. It didn’t matter where she was or what she was doing, every year on this day she would awaken with the same thought; Jarod.
It was almost one o’clock and still her doorbell hadn’t rung. She began to pace around her living room, trying to relieve the restlessness that had overtaken her. At four she called the post office and asked if there was a problem that had caused their shipments to be delayed. They informed her that everything was running smoothly, but she didn’t accept that. In her best tones of irritation she demanded to speak with someone in authority. She had almost reduced the clerk to tears when she finally realized how fruitless it was to take out her anger and fear on a total stranger.
The only way to make it through this day, she decided, was to switch to autopilot. She still had that ability within her, even though she hadn’t exercised it for quite a while. At thirteen minutes bast six she decided to ignore the day; to pretend it had never happened. I only have to live through 364 more days before everything is all right, she told herself over and over, when suddenly the bell rang. It had to ring several times before she finally realized that wasn’t her imagination. Her heart started pounding so loudly that she could barely hear her own troubled thoughts. She knew it wasn’t the postman, they didn’t deliver after six, and she closed her eyes briefly. It isn’t good to get so agitated, she admonished herself, and taking a deep breath, she finally opened her door.
The disappointment that overwhelmed her when she opened her eyes to see a total stranger standing on her doorstep was more powerful than she would have believed possible.
"What do you want?" She had expected him---no, *wanted* him to be Jarod so much that she completely forgot the resolution she had made years ago not to push people away for no reason. She had lost *him* that way.
The young man was so shocked he couldn’t say anything for several long moments. When he finally managed to open his mouth and speak, his voice shook with a mixture of intimidation and respect. His mentor had warned him about the cold reception he would probably receive, but he hadn’t prepared him for how powerful and intimidating the woman would be. He certainly wasn’t ready for how strongly impressed he was by her just standing at her door. The situation he had planned so carefully had been turned on its end and he was suddenly off guard.
"I—I apologize for intruding on your privacy but----Maybe this will sound strange to you, but I’m here to fulfill a promise I made to a dear friend…" She still hadn’t moved a muscle as his voice trailed off uncertainly. She just stared somewhere just beyond his head as if she’d expected something that wasn’t there.
"---Mr. Phillips." He finally finished his sentence miserably.
"Mr. Phillips?" She finally spoke, awakening from whatever thoughts had held her earlier. Her piercing blue eyes settled on his face, finally seeming to see him and not someone else. Once again he was overwhelmed by the impression that he was in the presence of a person with an indomitable will.
"You are Miss Parker----aren’t you?"
"Well, I see there’s no question of your sleuthing ability. Yes, I am Miss Parker----and you are…?"
Her sarcastic query made him feel like a little boy again, being reminded of his manners. He had been so caught up in his thoughts about her and his reason for being here that he had completely forgotten that she didn’t know who he was.
"I’m sorry. My name is Ryan Peters and, like I said earlier, I came her to fulfill a promise I made to Mr. Phillips."
"I’m sorry too, Mr. Peters, but I don’t know anybody named Phillips."
"Oh…" He frowned helplessly for a few moments before the problem dawned on him. "I’m talking about Jarod, Jarod Phillips."
He heard her gasp with surprise and gathered that she did know who he was talking about.
"Please, come in. We can't stand here all day, can we?"
"Of course not." He agreed as he followed her into the house.
Looking around him curiously, he noticed how stylish everything was. Her taste in interior decorating was as impeccable as her taste in clothing. He added this observation to the picture he was assembling in his mind of this astonishing woman.
He examined her again, more closely. Not only did she project a powerful image of strength and iron control, but she was beautiful too. If he hadn’t known that she was over 50 years old he would have guessed that she was much younger.
"Why did he send you this year? How’s he doing anyway? Is he still as annoying as he was twenty years ago?" She fired the barrage of questions with the speed of a semi-automatic handgun, switching the focus of them bewilderingly in mid-sentence.
He could barely comprehend the words, so rapid and staccato was her delivery. He wondered if she had guessed what his message was and only needed him to confirm her suspicions. He decided it would be best if he simply told her outright and didn’t approach the subject cautiously, as he would normally prefer. Jarod had often told him that his difficulty in getting to the point was his greatest weakness and advised him to work on overcoming it. But never, in his wildest imaginings, could he have anticipated the depth of sorrow, of devastation, that filled her eyes as he informed her of Jarod’s death.
"Oh, God, I’m so sorry! I should have known better than to just blurt it out!" He exclaimed remorsefully and he helped her to sit on the sofa before she fell. "I’m such an idiot. Trust me to decide to follow his advice at the worst possible moment."
"What advice?" she asked quietly.
He looked at her and was amazed at how composed she looked. Her expression was so calm it was almost blank. If it hadn’t been for the soft, nearly inaudible voice she used to ask her question no one would have been able to even guess at her distress just moments ago.
‘This is one tough woman.’ He told himself admiringly.
"He was always telling me to be straightforward and honest in my conversations. He said if I wasn’t I would be wasting valuable time that I’d never be able to get back. Time, he often joked, is something you have no time to waste."
Miss Parker smiled; it was a statement that was pure "Jarod". He would have loved to have annoyed her with that one, but---her thoughts turned suddenly gloomy, he won’t, ever again. She turned her face away from her guest to regain her composure, and when she spoke again her voice was strong and even.
"As much as I hate to admit it, I agree with him. I would undoubtedly have lost my temper if I thought you were beating around the bush. To be honest, I knew already----I just didn’t want to accept it."
"How did you----I’m sorry, I don’t mean to…"
"No, no it's okay. I knew because the package didn't arrive."
"Of course, the package. Why didn't I think of it before?"
"You know about the package?"
"Not really. I know he sent a package every year on this day, but I never knew what was in it. I asked about it once but he wouldn't tell me so I never asked again. I knew it was very important to him, though."
The ticking of the clock was the only sound in the room for a few moments. She seemed to have fallen into memories again, sad ones by the expression on her face, but once again she regained her composure faster than he had expected.
"What was your relationship to Jarod? How well did you know him?"
"He was my mentor at the university but we met the year before I started there. He helped my family with a problem we had and arranged for me to get a scholarship. Imagine my surprise when I met my new mentor at the university.
"He became some sort of a guardian angel of mine----a friend and a teacher at the same time. I asked him once if he was there because of me, but he said he had gone there to teach from time to time for several years whenever he needed a break from his other activities. The atmosphere there relaxed him.
And so it was; he came once or twice a year to teach for a couple of months and then disappeared again.
"If he had kept to a regular schedule the college could have easily filled every one of his classes a year in advance. He was that popular with the students. Everyone was overjoyed when he accepted the permanent position the college had kept open for him. He said he was getting tired and needed to settle down for a while.
"Just long enough to regain my strength." He’d tell me, but we both knew better.
"That was when I got a position as his assistant and we spent a lot of time together, especially those last few months when his condition worsened. The doctors couldn’t figure out what was actually wrong with him, he just seemed to slowly be drained of energy; fading away. He told me that he was paying for the sins of the past.
"Whose sins, I wondered, but he only smiled and said it didn’t matter whose they were just that they were. I never exactly knew what he meant, but it doesn't matter anymore. He's gone forever now."
"Gone forever…" She echoed softly, and they were both silent for a while, each occupied with their own memories of Jarod.
"Was that the promise...to inform me of his death in person?"
"No...well, yes...The main reason for my presence here is to give you this."
How she could have missed noticing the shoe box he was holding was beyond her comprehension. The years certainly hadn’t sharpened her mind, she reflected ruefully.
"Mystery always surrounded him. It still does, in fact. He named you as his only heir." Putting the box onto the coffee table in front of her he continued.
"Believe it or not, this is everything he owned except his clothes and a few knickknacks he kept in his office on campus. He asked me to deliver this box personally to you. If you don’t take it, or if I couldn’t find you, he told me to burn it."
What about his family? He searched for them for so many years----why didn’t he leave it to them?"
"I knew about his search. He rarely discussed his past, and everything I know is really just what I conjectured from his rare confidences when relaxed his guard. He mentioned that his parents had died long ago, but he never mentioned them again after that. The thing that puzzled me the most was that he had no family of his own----and everyone who knew him wondered why. There couldn’t be another man so suited to having a wife and children.
"He hardly ever lost his temper, in spite of my frequent questions, not even when I kept asking him about his past. In fact, I only remember him losing it with me once. It was on this day, I think----yes, yes it was on this day when I bumped into him in town. He always took today off, every year. He said it was his personal holiday. But I never knew what he did during his time away.
"When I ran across him in town, though, we chatted for a few minutes about generalities. Then I brought up my family. I told him that I always took a few days off every year to visit them too----I assumed, you see, that family was the reason for his absences. I joked with him that I would never get away with only one day to visit them, though.
"Suddenly he was yelling at me to mind my own business. If I really *had* to know, he went on to say, his family was dead and he had no intention of ever having one of his own. He wasn’t taking a family day, but a personal holiday-----a holiday of defeat, he called it.
"I remember thinking that was very strange; that anyone would expect him to *want* a family, as lonely as he was. In spite of his popularity, his generosity and many kind acts, he was basically the loneliest person I have ever met. I don’t know if he would have wanted me to share all of this with you, but…" Ryan’s voice trailed off and there was another silent moment between the two of them.
Lonely---the story of her life and her fault entirely. She believed everything Ryan had told her was the absolute truth. Jarod was one of the loneliest people she knew, barring herself, of course. But she’d never expected him to remain alone after he finally found his family. It was only now that she realized that she hadn’t ruined just her life, but she’d ruined his as well.
One thing that Ryan didn’t know; couldn’t know, was that Jarod *had* wanted a family of his own. He’d desperately wanted one, but she’d shattered that dream for him, hadn’t she? Her hands were shaking violently and her composure slipping away as she finally reached out for the box, running her fingers gently across the lid. Finally she picked it up, clasping it to her breast just as she would have held him if he’d been there. Opening it, she slowly began to inspect the contents inside.
Ryan noticed the naval cross first. It looked very old. There were also some pictures of people he’d never seen before. He recognized the subject of one old, wrinkled photograph, though----it was her; younger of course, and as beautiful as he had expected her to be. The same sad expression he’d seen when she first opened the door to him covered her face in that picture. She would have been stunningly gorgeous if she had only smiled.
There were also some odd things, like PEZ dispensers, a necklace that would have looked fine in an old Western movie, several small silver discs, and plenty of other items he couldn’t identify at all; let alone know how they could be important to Jarod. Well, except for the PEZ dispensers----Jarod had been addicted to them. The contents of the box meant nothing to him, but judging from her tender expression they certainly meant something to her. She was on the verge of tears, but she wouldn’t let them fall, he noticed. He found himself wondering how long her control would hold.
"Two roses." She blurted the words out abruptly.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Two roses. That's what he sent me every year on this day. Two roses; one white the other red." She clarified, her eyes still fixed on the contents of the box.
Friendship and love. Jarod had given him a book about flowers and their meanings on one of his birthdays. He said it was something definitely worth knowing. He hadn’t truly understood until now what Jarod had meant by that.
"Today would have been the fifteenth time. No matter where I was at the time, and I moved quite often over the years, but those roses always found their way to me until today."
"But I don't understand. Why did he..."
"Because I hurt him---I hurt him badly."
Ryan couldn't find any logic in her answer. Why would someone send flowers to someone who hurt him?
Why she felt the need to explain everything to him was beyond her. Perhaps she had kept this inside of her for too long. Ryan was a stranger, he had nothing to gain or lose by knowing the truth. If anyone stood to gain anything it was her. She needed to confess this and ease the burden of guilt that had grown on her soul as the years had gone by.
"He didn’t tell you the whole truth, you know----about not wanting his own family. Everything he did, who he was, screamed of his desire for family; to have one, not only with his parents and sister but also one he founded himself with some special woman." She stopped for a while thinking how to continue.
Suddenly she stood up, started pacing around the room, and continued her confession, "It doesn't matter so much now but in order for you to understand the story you have to know that Jarod and I grew up in an environment I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy. At first I considered myself lucky to have a family, unlike him, but later I realized how alike we were-- unhappy and alone.
"He managed to defeat the organization responsible for his---our suffering, against all odds, and all by himself. I hadn't been much help to him, stubborn and confused as I was. Then, after everything had gone to hell, so to speak, he came to me as he so often had in the past and requested that I finally trust him. He needed me to return his feelings of friendship and love, now that nothing stood in our way anymore. Be my Valentine, that's all he wanted. But his timing was wrong, so terribly wrong.
"I was angry, oh, God, I was angry, furious at the whole world, disappointed by those I had trusted and most of all furious at him just for being there and having that arrogant smirk on his face saying "I told you so."
"But that wasn’t what he was saying. I wasn't able to see his innocent soul and honesty, I was too damn proud and weak to accept his vulnerable heart reaching out to me. I rejected him. And I don't mean rejected him in the normal sense, I mocked him, humiliated him, degraded him the way he would never expect me to-----that I would never have believed I was capable of. I didn’t become aware of what I had done, of what I had said until I heard the door shut behind him.
"Then I ran after him screaming the words of apology and sorrow; not understanding how empty and meaningless they were in comparison to my betrayal of him."
***************************
Standing by the trees he watched her. Being so close to her again gave him the same sensation and warmth that he had felt when he first met her. Although he had expected her to be here today, he was still a bit surprised to see her. Part of him had doubted the truthfulness of the old man’s words, which was why he’d returned on this particular day. Seeing her there, looking so sad and alone almost made him feel sorry for her, but she wouldn't want that----not Parker.
She knelt by the grave nearly an hour before she stood up to leave.
The first thing he had noted on his initial visit to this place was the serenity and solitude of this place. He had visited a few graveyards over the years but this one was different...
"You feel it too, don't you?" Turning towards the voice he gasped in surprise. Standing before him was probably the oldest and the most peculiar man he had ever laid eyes upon.
"Don't let the sight of me fool you. I'm real and still very much alive. I can’t do the hundred yards dash in ten seconds anymore but my mind is as sharp as it has always been."
He was still speechless with surprise. It wasn’t often that someone succeeded in startling him so much.
"I don't get too many visitors up here so I couldn't help but notice you standing by the new one."
"New one?" He heard himself utter mechanically while he was still trying to adjust to the old man's appearance; his back bent a bit----although that was no wonder at his age. He wore old fashioned clothes and had a thick white beard. He looked like a character taken from one of the fairy tales he read as a youngster.
"Well, seven years but it's still fresh comparing to the others. That's probably why he's the only one of all those lonely souls that gets a visit once a year. Twice, counting you now."
"It was quite difficult to find this place. Refuge, I must add, is an interesting name for a cemetery. I didn't even know they could have names at all."
"Not my idea. A long time ago a woman had brought me here, gave me a job as a caretaker and told me to be nice to these poor souls. They hadn't had an easy life, she told me, so it was only right to give them peace and refuge in their final resting-place. She said it was the least she could do for them. And that's what it became; a refuge----I made sure of that. You couldn't find us up here because there's no official record of this graveyard. And even if people had known about this place they would have still preferred that fancy one near town; I'm sure of it as I stand before you. World's changing rapidly but here it is still like it was thirty years ago when she was still visiting us."
He intended to ask the old man about that second visitor to the "new one" but he didn't get the chance because the old man just couldn't stop talking. Obviously meeting people so rarely made him overly loquacious in return. He was undoubtedly eager to compensate for the lack of living conversationalists in his life. The poor lonely souls that shared his Refuge with him were hardly company. But the more he talked the faster the pieces of the puzzle surrounding this Refuge and its occupants fell into place.
"It was really busy here thirty years ago. Almost every six months there was a new arrival, big caskets, small caskets, heavy, light you name it, they all went through my hands, so to speak. Later urns replaced them, of course. Strange and impersonal as it all was that nice lady, who had hired me to take care of them, made it better by coming here once a year putting a flower on each and every one of those graves. The only person remembering this place...I miss her." The old man's thoughts drifted away for a second but he quickly recovered. "And then suddenly everything changed. First she stopped coming-- something must have happened to her; then, several years later the new arrivals stopped all together. I have a suspicion it had to do with closing down that strange place below at the foot of the hill. Who knows? I've been the sole guardian of this place ever since, but I found out that I wasn’t the only one after all. A few years back some city men wanted to tear this place down to build a factory, but someone or rather 'something' prevented it." After saying that he looked suggestively up to the sky.
"Now that I think about it, that lady who has been visiting the same grave as you just did looks exactly like 'our' lady friend from the past."
It had to be Parker, it had to. But why would she want to visit his grave after everything she had done. Maybe the old man could give him some insight into understanding her better.
"Would you be so kind and tell me something about her? You said she was the only one who came here after the new..."
"The only person after the lady from the past..."
"Amazing! This really is a refuge of the lonely souls, isn't it?"
"Yes, that's what I've been telling you all along. Pay attention!" The impatience amused him but he held himself back from laughing. His earlier decision to leave the old man to his ‘lonely souls’ and memories and depart as soon as he could had been replaced with an eager anticipation for the rest of the puzzle pieces to the mystery he was unraveling.
"I can still hear the crying that startled me one day when I was mowing the lawn behind those trees. It was one of those moments when you know you shouldn't intrude so I just stayed hidden and listened. Well, I was also a bit interested in what that sobbing was all about; never had the experience of someone mourning here before, you know."
"She was crying?!"
"Yes, and all the time repeating the same words-- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, so very sorry and cried and cried. I got so worried about her that I gathered my courage and approached her. She never noticed me and I was standing only three feet away. She was repeatedly moving her fingers gently over the letters cut in the stone like they were made from the finest glass.
"When she turned around and saw me she froze for a moment and then started running not once looking back. I still feel guilty for disturbing her and although she never cried again except for that first time I will carry the image of that deep pain in her tormented eyes with me for as long as I live."
"So she came again?"
"Yes, she has been coming here ever since, once a year, always on the same day and never without those two roses; red and white."
He gasped in surprise again. So she did care about him after all. Why, why, why his mind screamed. So much time lost, so many lives destroyed, and for what? Her choice, their pain, had profited no one.
************************
"Jarod...?"
"No, I'm not him. My name is Jordan."
J...Jordan?" She had that look in her eyes that-----damned look he hated so much. It's been a while since he saw such expression on someone's face but it still bothered him.
No, not bothered or annoyed, he simply hated being mistaken for Jarod and hated to see that look of disappointment that replaced the one of joy and happiness. And Parker's was even worse. The glimpse of hope in her eyes dying the moment he mentioned his name was Jordan not Jarod filled him with feelings of anger and sadness at the same time.
"Don't you remember me? We had met once before, ages ago..." still no sign of recognition, "For God's sake, I'm Jarod's..."
"No, no, I'm sorry...I remember who you are, of course I do." She was focusing her warm smile completely on him now and he calmed down, ashamed of his emotional response.
She'll never know how grateful he was to her for interrupting him before he'd be forced to say that awful word - clone. His emotional baggage and the unresolved issues eating him inside were getting stronger and harder to bear by the day but he shouldn't blame her for that. Her smile faded slightly after continuing,
"It's just...the last time I saw Jarod he was about your age and...well, probably you know that we didn’t part on the best of terms. So when you appeared in front of me out of nowhere I was taken aback a little. But I'm fully functional now, all plugs and wires back in their places, I assure you."
A short ragged laugh escaped his mouth almost against his will. A sense of humor in this situation? That was something that would definitely be worth remembering.
"There must be a reason you're here. Is it me or Jarod?" A straightforward and simple question that should have received the same response, but nothing was simple with him, was it?
He had asked himself a million times what he actually wanted here. Missing his 'brother' would be an exaggeration at the very least, if not an outright lie. Avoiding this place for seven years and now coming the second time in two months because he missed Jarod was certainly not a plausible explanation. Was it her he wanted to see? Perhaps that was it; why else would've he come on this day otherwise? In some small way it was a little of both, he finally decided.
Keeping his distance from Jarod had satisfied him at the beginning. It had given him a sense of individuality and independence, a feeling he had needed desperately while growing up in that horrible place. But feeling like an individual had become impossible after years of looking at himself twenty years down the road. Only now was the feeling of emptiness and the knowledge that something had been missing during all those years apart starting to sink into his mind.
It was at that point in his musings that his anger towards "poor" Miss Parker arose again. She had been so nice to him; comforting him, promising him a better life after she helped him escape the Centre. But then she had destroyed any chance he’d had at a happy life…
That last thought scared him dreadfully. If she had ruined his own life when she’d destroyed Jarod’s, then he was admitting that he was not Jordan, but Jarod. No, no that wasn’t acceptable.
She hadn’t ruined *his* life; she had ruined Jarod's. Running away hadn't solved anything; being mad at Jarod for his mere existence was unfair, and in the end... Where did all that bring him? Here, slowly realizing that he was still him no matter how deep his denial was buried.
"To be honest, because of you, Jarod and me."
"I see." He wondered if she really could.
"I do. I can see you don't believe me---but it's not important. As surprised as I am to see you, I’m also very happy you’re here. Honestly. I have often wondered what path your life has taken and whether or not you're happy."
She gathered from Jordan's expression that he was not.
Did destiny have to be so cruel? She had always thought of him as Jarod's second chance to be normal and content with his life. But it seemed that even that had been denied by fate. Not wanting to distress him any further she quickly shook her head indicating that he didn't need to answer her question. Instead she asked another one, not realizing that it would be just as distressing as her previous question---if not more.
"Tell me something about him...about Jarod...please. The things I picked up from his time at the University were sketchy and didn’t draw a happy picture of his life. Please tell me he was happy, at least for some time. He had to be after he found his family and you were all reunited. Tell me he was content...please, tell me he was."
She was on the verge of tears and openly begging him for any kind of information that would ease her guilt, but she didn't know that he knew even less about Jarod's life as she has. University---he’d had no idea Jarod had even been at one, let alone which one or what else he might have done with his life. He was guilty of abandoning him, too.
"I don't know much about him really. We were never a family again after his...our parents died. There was a constant tension between us. I was the main reason for it but in the end Jarod gave in and admitted that we couldn't live together after our parents' death. He tried very hard to prevent our estrangement despite of me and my actions but there was no neutral ground between us anymore to ease that tension. We totally lost contact and I had only gathered the strength to come here two months ago. So you see, you are not alone in seeking his forgiveness by his grave and not while he was alive when it could have actually made a difference."
Finally looking at her more carefully, he noticed her pale face and tortured eyes and the sadness the old man had mentioned. His confession certainly hadn't helped her conscience, if anything, their encounter had aged her ten years, so devastated did she look at that point.
"The thing I don't understand is why he is buried here and not with our parents or at the place he had lived?"
"It was his wish."
"Why would he want his last resting place to be the graveyard reserved for failed Centre experiments?"
"You answered your own question. By deserting him, we made him feel just that-- that he was a lab experiment not worthy of any different fate than all those unfortunate souls resting here. Living alone and dying alone as well----I can't do anything about that but I can try to make it up for abandoning him by remembering him and keeping him company now."
Saying this, she decided to leave. She couldn't stand talking to Jordan any longer. It wasn’t his fault; she just felt what little strength she had left draining away and she knew that if she didn’t leave soon she would fall apart right in front of him. It was not an impression she waned to leave behind her---one of weakness and defeat. It was probably too late already; if he was anything like Jarod at all he’d already seen right through her. She was going to try, though.
"Jarod was a good man...I did love him." She said with her last strength. She managed with the last of her energy.
"I believe you... I know you did, despite everything." He was looking after her retreating figure when all of a sudden he felt he couldn't let her go like that. He wouldn't have been able to explain why but he felt a strong urge to comfort her. It was like being driven by some higher force.
"He forgave you, a long time ago." His words made her stop abruptly but she didn't turn. "Those two roses meant forgiveness. Don't ask me how I know this, maybe because I'm him...or partly him...oh, hell, even I don't know who I am but I'm certain of this; he forgave you the first time he sent them to you...the time has come now for you to forgive yourself."
Still with her back to him she said, "Thank you, Jordan." And then she left; not once turning around because she didn't want him to see the tears streaming down her face or the hopeless yearning shining from her eyes that Jarod had been the one standing there and saying those words of forgiveness instead of him.
*************************
Avoiding this place for so long and now coming here the third time in six months would normally made him laugh, but the irony eluded him this time. A sort of expectant air hovered over this place now, different than before. It felt like an end of one era and the beginning of a new one.
Was it presumptuous of him to think that he could lay the foundations for the new one? Not according to the letter but still---did he have the strength to do it?
"They are together now." The always unexpected voice belonged to the old man taking care of this place.
He had an annoying habit of sneaking up on him without being noticed every time he had come here. Jordan wondered how he managed it at his age. Nodding his head in agreement, he directed his look back at the tombstone and knelt down besides it, extending his hand to follow the line of the letters with his fingers like he had seen miss Parker do. So simple----just two names, nothing else, and yet so much meaning in it; JAROD on top and VALENTINE beneath.
"The only grave here with two names on it, you know." The old man informed him. "I didn’t have the privilege of knowing them but I have a feeling that they belong together."
"Yes, they do. She had kept her promise of never letting him be alone again. They were both extraordinary and special in their own way. Jarod was----my brother and Valentine----she was the love of his life. Not many things happened the way they had wished but destiny brought them together in the end."
"You will come here again, won't you?"
"Of course. I would come again even if hadn't a promise to keep. Besides, I am going to be staying in this area for a while. I finally have a purpose in my life, a second chance if you'd like, and I'm not going to let it pass."
"So the letter helped?"
"You have no idea how much." After another long period of silence he turned to the old man. "Take good care of them."
"You can count on me...and Him, sir." He did that often, Jordan noticed, pointed up to the sky alluding to the possibility of God having something to do with everything related to this Refuge. Whatever... He had one more stop to make today so he decided to leave the old man to his delusions and drove away.
**************************
Sitting in his spacious, comfortable office he couldn't stop his thoughts from drifting back a year and remembering the events and especially people that have brought him here. Despite Jarod's immense influence on his entire life it was Miss Parker of all people who had given him what he had now----a purpose, a goal he wanted and had been searching for unsuccessfully for all those years.
The old man at the cemetery asked him if the letter had helped. Ah, the letter. It was still one of his most valuable possessions. It was also a reminder, a reminder of their mistakes and his own fears. And that's why he kept it; to never repeat or forget the same faults and most of all to never give in to his fears again. He stood up from the chair and took the letter from the safe wanting to read it again. He did that once in a while ever since the old man had given it to him. He said it was sent at the Refuge with instructions to be given to him the next time he came - To Jordan.
"How did you know it was for me? It only says to Jordan."
"God told me...besides you're the only person coming here, anyway." Came the confused answer.
Jordan hadn't been able to figure out what was wrong with this old man to this day, nothing obvious but he was strange all right. He wasn't sure that he even had a name so he always referred to him as the old man. Focusing on the letter in his hands he let his questioning thoughts about the sole breathing occupant of the Refuge pass by,
Dear Jordan,
I know this letter may come as a surprise to you, we briefly met only twice in our lives but it was more than enough for me to realize how important those short encounters had been. After reading this letter I hope you will at least understand if not agree. It's not in my nature to beat around the bush, so here's the point: I named you as my only heir in my last will and testament. And yes, there is a reason, bear with me I'm going to explain. My assets are large. There are some minor obligations and they must be kept in the future but all in all, the inheritance is a prize for you.
I'm not the type to give it all to charities so our meeting a few months ago enabled me to do something meaningful with it. You may not be aware of it but The Centre was and still is a Parker family possession, which means it has been mine for the last twenty years or so. It has been abandoned ever since its downfall. After I'm gone there will be no one left connected to that place anymore and that's why I believe it will be the time for someone to make it what it was founded for----an institution for research into and the development of the human mind; with an emphasis on special psychological abilities and their furtherance.
I would like that someone to be you, Jordan. There was never even a possibility of Jarod or I doing it; we were both too close to the horrors going on there and too affected by it to make a fresh start. But you, on the other hand, are perfect for the task. You experienced the place for long enough to know how dangerous such institution can become if placed in to the wrong hands and you weren’t so affected by it to lose the needed determination and strength to run it.
I believe---no, I know you have the willpower and desire to do it. I can't avoid saying this---you have his soul inside you no matter what. I felt it when we talked. You didn't believe me then but I understood what you were trying to tell me, what had been eating you inside for all those years and most of all I understood your reasons for coming.
And what I have to say is this; you are Jarod and at the same time you are not. He was unique, no one could replace him, especially in my eyes, but you are unique, too. You have an opportunity now to forge a different future; to make it better and more worthwhile. Not for Jarod, not for me, not for anybody but you and you alone.
You are creating your own life and the "Jarod" in you will only make the obstacles you encounter easier to overcome. He understood that, so he let you go---to find your own path through life. He only hoped that someday it would lead you back to him. And it did lead you to him; it also led you to me and I think you should continue to follow that path and see where it will take you next.
I want you to think about what I said and about my proposition. If you chose not to have anything to do with The Centre, the inheritance is still yours to have. If you do, there should be no problem in renovating and reopening it; the other parts of my property will provide sufficient funds for that.
In case you would want to refuse the heritage all together I have a special favor to ask of you. One of the pieces of property I own is The Refuge----the cemetery Jarod and I are buried on. I bought it a few years back when it was in danger of being torn down by the city. Surprisingly, it was never an official Centre property. Perhaps they were covering their tracks. The favor I'm asking is for you to take care of it. The old man, as caring as he is, can't last for much longer. If you do accept the challenge of running the reformed Centre, the Refuge will also be there as a reminder, a reminder you must never forget no matter what you decide.
One last note....
"I'm sorry to disturb you sir..." Upset at being interrupted by the voice on the intercom, he sounded quite annoyed when he answered.
"Yes?"
"I have this woman here at the gate who is looking for someone named Jordan and demanding to speak with him. She said that some old man at the Refuge had told her to look for him down here. She won’t leave without speaking to him and well, you are the only one with that name here that I know of so I called you to...."
"Let her in John."
"Okay, Sir." Jordan wondered what anybody could possibly want with the Refuge.
He hoped she wasn't one of those nosy reporters that had been lurking around ever since this place had reopened. And what, for God's sake, possessed that old man to direct her to him? He should've known better than to connect The Refuge to this place and expose it to the public. Besides, how on earth did he know where to find him in the first place? It seemed he knew more than he let on.
Standing up, he walked to the window and got sucked into memories again. He was so proud of his achievement. Who would've thought that in only six months this place would be running at full capacity? The first time he had laid eyes on this place was a year ago, and as abandoned as it had been, it really hadn't had the affect on him that he had anticipated. It had looked like any other closed facility. But he'd gone beyond the walls and, after entering to inspect the interior, the feelings he'd expected had emerged. Right then, in that spot, he had decided to do everything in his power to ensure that the next time he came here the feelings would be gone.
He had succeeded in that endeavor, and his only regret was that Jarod and Valentine weren’t there to see it. They would have been proud of him. He was so engrossed in his musings that he completely missed hearing the sound of his door opening, or the arrival of his visitor.
"I apologize but there was no one at your secretary's desk." The unexpected voice abruptly interrupting his reminiscing almost made him jump with surprise.
He turned quickly to identify the intruder and he suddenly felt something he hadn't felt for----well, ever. There she was, standing in his office, the most... the most...hell; he couldn't even find the right words to describe her. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen was nowhere near descriptive enough, she was so much more than that. He could feel her soul, literally. She brought something into his office with her that touched the most sensitive receptors in his brain.
He was totally at a loss for words. When she spoke again her voice sent shivers down his spine. It was low and husky but instead of sounding sultry or seductive she simply sounded unsure. He didn’t know how, but somehow he knew that she rarely showed such vulnerability in public.
"I did knock." She was talking very quickly, apparently explaining why she was here; he wouldn’t have been able to follow her words even if he hadn't been entirely mesmerized by her presence.
"Would it be very rude of me to ask you to repeat what you just said? I'm sorry but my thoughts just drifted away for a moment." He said with his most humble expression.
"Oh, I didn't mean to---I tend to talk very fast when I get nervous, you know."
Oops! That wasn’t exactly what she wanted to say, but this guy had knocked her off her feet the moment she had stepped into his office and saw him staring out the window. Instead of announcing herself she had stood by the door and watched him; for a moment she completely forgot why she had come at all. And when he turned and looked at her with those extraordinary soft yet sharply intelligent eyes she felt like she was touching his soul and he was touching hers.
She couldn't have found a rational explanation for it even if she had wanted to. No one had ever made such a powerful impression on her or made her speak with that tiny and insecure voice. She was well on her way to making a complete fool of herself. First she had totally intimidated the guard in the lobby and just a few minutes later she turned into total mush. She finally met the man of her dreams and can't speak a full sentence without stuttering. No wonder he didn’t understand a word she said.
"I came here because of my family. I----" Her explanation was cut off in mid-sentence by his abrupt question.
"I didn't catch your name." What was that she said to herself before--- a fool, confused but still a fool. She castigated herself for forgetting something so simple. The man actually made her feel like one!
"Oh, yes, of course. My name is Christina Mallory and as I said I came..." He interrupted her again.
"My name is Jordan but you already knew that. Do you like Chinese food?"
[What is wrong with him?] She wondered, beginning to feel irritated. [Didn’t he want to know why she was here? Why she had fought so hard to make him see her?]
He actually looked like he expected the answer to that absurd question of his. What did her taste in food got to do with----anything? Her blood was beginning to boil. She had a goal and not even this perfect male specimen standing before her was going to stop her from getting the answers she had come for. Perhaps she should be grateful to him; the insecurity from a few minutes ago had evaporated like it never existed.
"Sir----Jordan," she paused and smiled reassuringly like she would when talking to a small child, "I have a reason for coming here and I would very much appreciate if you took some of your precious time and listened to me. Is that too much to ask?"
Jordan suddenly remembered the Refuge and his fears of someone asking too many questions about it. Her appearance had totally thrown him off track. She had guts, though. He had to admit that; coming in here speaking like she was the one in charge, trying to put him on defensive.
"Yes, I want to know what you want and especially what it has to do with The Refuge...So, speak! You can sit down first of course,"
She hadn’t expected the sharpness in his voice and sat down obediently, although it was completely against her nature to comply with such thinly veiled commands. She was disappointed to see the man she sensed on entering disappear and someone tougher replace him. But she could see that the reason for his about face was his concern for that strange graveyard. It obviously meant a lot to him.
"At the cemetery the old man directed me to you. By the way, he really is odd, isn't he? He was mumbling something about being there for far too long because every time he gets a visit from a lady now-a-days, he sees the same one. Have you any idea what he meant by that?"
Jordan opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted before he could make a sound.
"He also said you might be able to help me with the search for my family. But first things first. You want to know why did I end up looking for my roots here?"
Finally, he thought amused at her bluntness. He tried to focus on the rapid delivery of information that followed, but his mind kept wandering to her affect on him, and he only caught snatches of her explanation.
She’d been given up for adoption almost three decades ago because her parents had died when she was a baby. An anonymous person had provided a trust fund for her. Then, six months ago the bank had informed her that a trustee was taking over the trust fund because the original benefactor had died. Then she’d hired a Private Investigator to find out the name of her benefactor. He’d come up with a name; Miss Parker, supposedly related to her and buried in Blue Cove Delaware? She’d found the cemetery; Refuge, and the old man saying that someone named Jordan had known the woman she was looking for and could help her further.
The moment she repeated the old man's words he knew why she looked so familiar to him. He was stunned.
[Is it possible?] His bewildered mind wondered? Her story only confirmed his previous suspicions but still----could it be possible?
"The trail of clues has led me to you. So can you tell me about my past? My family? My heritage?"
Had Jarod ever felt like this; trapped between desire and bitter reality? He was getting older and he had begun to wonder if he’d ever find someone that he could join his life to and have his own family with. The desire had never been so strong, nor had he ever felt like he was so close to fulfilling his dreams as he had the moment he turned from the window and saw her standing in the doorway, but he knew better than to believe she could, or would, be the one.
She was younger than he was, by more than ten years. She would never choose to be with him when she undoubtedly attracted men like flies to honey. Besides, she would never want to stay here after he told her about the past, her family and this place, and the part that his family had played in destroying hers. His words would destroy the dream utterly, and send this woman that he felt so bonded to running in the other direction.
True, her family wasn’t what she undoubtedly was hoping they had been; no one to be proud of with the exception of her aunt. He wondered if she could even cope with the ugly truth of her relatives, her very existence. Still, he sensed a powerful will, much like he’d sensed in her Aunt Valentine, but he couldn’t imagine anyone reacting well to having people like Brigitte and Lyle as your parents.
His concern for her unhappiness, and his foreboding of her rejection made his eyes sadden and his head bowed with the burden of the fears entering his heart. But then his eyes fell on the letter still lying on his desk and he remembered Parker’s final words to him.
Don't ever let your fears and insecurity win, don't let them consume you and prevent you from finding happiness and love----because if you do, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. Believe me, I know.
Suddenly his head came up and he walked towards her with the most amazing smile she had seen in her life. His hand was extended towards her in invitation as he spoke.
"Let's talk about your family over lunch. Would Chinese be okay?"
She had to close her eyes for a moment. His look wasn't inquiring about her taste in food; it was asking something more and promising at least as much in return. Her entire being recognized the inevitability of this moment. She knew that if she accepted that hand he offered her that her future would be forever intertwined with his; that once he got hold of her hand he would never let it go again.
Hesitating only for as long as it took her to breathe in, she slowly lifted her hand and placed it into his, feeling not even a moment of uncertainty. Her past didn't seem so very important anymore; it had fulfilled its purpose----her past had brought her to this man, and everything else faded in comparison. The smile accompanying her gesture promised him a world he dared to imagine only in his dreams.
He had wondered, somewhere in the back of his mind, if there was a woman who could fill the emptiness in his soul; someone destined to be with him, as Jarod and Valentine had seemed to be preordained to be together. Valentine had been unique, but Jarod had been re-created in him. Jordan had always feared that since he had been created by man and not God that he wasn’t fully human; that he was doomed to have the same longings and loves as Jarod, but that there would be no person to fulfill them----but today…. Today God had sent an angel to Earth just for him, and nothing was impossible anymore.
The day seemed brighter, the colors clearer, and everything had the glow of promise about it as he escorted her through the halls of the Centre, both of them rejoicing that fate had brought their paths together.
"Let me tell you about your aunt Valentine first. You have no idea how much you look like her...." Jordan began, a soft smile on his lips.
THE END
Feedback please : lucija@mare.eu.org
TWO ROSES
by Lucija
Lifting herself from the ground took more of her energy than she had thought it would. It wasn’t only her body that was exhausted; her mind was tired too. She’d always dragged herself here with the last dregs of her energy, but she usually went away with just enough energy to see her through the next year. Today, though, the revitalization was absent. As she was leaving, she turned back for one last look; something she’d never done in the past. It was as though she had a premonition that this would be her last visit here.
Preoccupied with her troubled memories, she didn’t notice the man standing in the shade of the nearby trees. She would have passed him by without ever being aware of his presence if he hadn’t taken the few steps necessary to block her way. She looked up then and her eyes went wide with shock before she closed them tightly, willing the image back into her memories from where she was sure it had come. It didn’t help; he was still standing there when she opened them again.
Maybe it was the place. Maybe it was her exhaustion, but she couldn’t seem to comprehend his presence in front of her. It isn’t him; it can’t be him----or, had her prayers been answered and he had come to forgive her? A wave of dizziness swept over her and, combined with her shaking knees, would have made her fall to the ground if he hadn’t extended a hand to support her. Even with his hand on her arm she couldn’t convince herself that this was really happening.
"Jarod...?"
***********************
It was that day again. The happiest, and saddest, day of the year. She wondered why, in all of the years that had passed, her feelings for this day had never changed. It didn’t matter where she was or what she was doing, every year on this day she would awaken with the same thought; Jarod.
It was almost one o’clock and still her doorbell hadn’t rung. She began to pace around her living room, trying to relieve the restlessness that had overtaken her. At four she called the post office and asked if there was a problem that had caused their shipments to be delayed. They informed her that everything was running smoothly, but she didn’t accept that. In her best tones of irritation she demanded to speak with someone in authority. She had almost reduced the clerk to tears when she finally realized how fruitless it was to take out her anger and fear on a total stranger.
The only way to make it through this day, she decided, was to switch to autopilot. She still had that ability within her, even though she hadn’t exercised it for quite a while. At thirteen minutes bast six she decided to ignore the day; to pretend it had never happened. I only have to live through 364 more days before everything is all right, she told herself over and over, when suddenly the bell rang. It had to ring several times before she finally realized that wasn’t her imagination. Her heart started pounding so loudly that she could barely hear her own troubled thoughts. She knew it wasn’t the postman, they didn’t deliver after six, and she closed her eyes briefly. It isn’t good to get so agitated, she admonished herself, and taking a deep breath, she finally opened her door.
The disappointment that overwhelmed her when she opened her eyes to see a total stranger standing on her doorstep was more powerful than she would have believed possible.
"What do you want?" She had expected him---no, *wanted* him to be Jarod so much that she completely forgot the resolution she had made years ago not to push people away for no reason. She had lost *him* that way.
The young man was so shocked he couldn’t say anything for several long moments. When he finally managed to open his mouth and speak, his voice shook with a mixture of intimidation and respect. His mentor had warned him about the cold reception he would probably receive, but he hadn’t prepared him for how powerful and intimidating the woman would be. He certainly wasn’t ready for how strongly impressed he was by her just standing at her door. The situation he had planned so carefully had been turned on its end and he was suddenly off guard.
"I—I apologize for intruding on your privacy but----Maybe this will sound strange to you, but I’m here to fulfill a promise I made to a dear friend…" She still hadn’t moved a muscle as his voice trailed off uncertainly. She just stared somewhere just beyond his head as if she’d expected something that wasn’t there.
"---Mr. Phillips." He finally finished his sentence miserably.
"Mr. Phillips?" She finally spoke, awakening from whatever thoughts had held her earlier. Her piercing blue eyes settled on his face, finally seeming to see him and not someone else. Once again he was overwhelmed by the impression that he was in the presence of a person with an indomitable will.
"You are Miss Parker----aren’t you?"
"Well, I see there’s no question of your sleuthing ability. Yes, I am Miss Parker----and you are…?"
Her sarcastic query made him feel like a little boy again, being reminded of his manners. He had been so caught up in his thoughts about her and his reason for being here that he had completely forgotten that she didn’t know who he was.
"I’m sorry. My name is Ryan Peters and, like I said earlier, I came her to fulfill a promise I made to Mr. Phillips."
"I’m sorry too, Mr. Peters, but I don’t know anybody named Phillips."
"Oh…" He frowned helplessly for a few moments before the problem dawned on him. "I’m talking about Jarod, Jarod Phillips."
He heard her gasp with surprise and gathered that she did know who he was talking about.
"Please, come in. We can't stand here all day, can we?"
"Of course not." He agreed as he followed her into the house.
Looking around him curiously, he noticed how stylish everything was. Her taste in interior decorating was as impeccable as her taste in clothing. He added this observation to the picture he was assembling in his mind of this astonishing woman.
He examined her again, more closely. Not only did she project a powerful image of strength and iron control, but she was beautiful too. If he hadn’t known that she was over 50 years old he would have guessed that she was much younger.
"Why did he send you this year? How’s he doing anyway? Is he still as annoying as he was twenty years ago?" She fired the barrage of questions with the speed of a semi-automatic handgun, switching the focus of them bewilderingly in mid-sentence.
He could barely comprehend the words, so rapid and staccato was her delivery. He wondered if she had guessed what his message was and only needed him to confirm her suspicions. He decided it would be best if he simply told her outright and didn’t approach the subject cautiously, as he would normally prefer. Jarod had often told him that his difficulty in getting to the point was his greatest weakness and advised him to work on overcoming it. But never, in his wildest imaginings, could he have anticipated the depth of sorrow, of devastation, that filled her eyes as he informed her of Jarod’s death.
"Oh, God, I’m so sorry! I should have known better than to just blurt it out!" He exclaimed remorsefully and he helped her to sit on the sofa before she fell. "I’m such an idiot. Trust me to decide to follow his advice at the worst possible moment."
"What advice?" she asked quietly.
He looked at her and was amazed at how composed she looked. Her expression was so calm it was almost blank. If it hadn’t been for the soft, nearly inaudible voice she used to ask her question no one would have been able to even guess at her distress just moments ago.
‘This is one tough woman.’ He told himself admiringly.
"He was always telling me to be straightforward and honest in my conversations. He said if I wasn’t I would be wasting valuable time that I’d never be able to get back. Time, he often joked, is something you have no time to waste."
Miss Parker smiled; it was a statement that was pure "Jarod". He would have loved to have annoyed her with that one, but---her thoughts turned suddenly gloomy, he won’t, ever again. She turned her face away from her guest to regain her composure, and when she spoke again her voice was strong and even.
"As much as I hate to admit it, I agree with him. I would undoubtedly have lost my temper if I thought you were beating around the bush. To be honest, I knew already----I just didn’t want to accept it."
"How did you----I’m sorry, I don’t mean to…"
"No, no it's okay. I knew because the package didn't arrive."
"Of course, the package. Why didn't I think of it before?"
"You know about the package?"
"Not really. I know he sent a package every year on this day, but I never knew what was in it. I asked about it once but he wouldn't tell me so I never asked again. I knew it was very important to him, though."
The ticking of the clock was the only sound in the room for a few moments. She seemed to have fallen into memories again, sad ones by the expression on her face, but once again she regained her composure faster than he had expected.
"What was your relationship to Jarod? How well did you know him?"
"He was my mentor at the university but we met the year before I started there. He helped my family with a problem we had and arranged for me to get a scholarship. Imagine my surprise when I met my new mentor at the university.
"He became some sort of a guardian angel of mine----a friend and a teacher at the same time. I asked him once if he was there because of me, but he said he had gone there to teach from time to time for several years whenever he needed a break from his other activities. The atmosphere there relaxed him.
And so it was; he came once or twice a year to teach for a couple of months and then disappeared again.
"If he had kept to a regular schedule the college could have easily filled every one of his classes a year in advance. He was that popular with the students. Everyone was overjoyed when he accepted the permanent position the college had kept open for him. He said he was getting tired and needed to settle down for a while.
"Just long enough to regain my strength." He’d tell me, but we both knew better.
"That was when I got a position as his assistant and we spent a lot of time together, especially those last few months when his condition worsened. The doctors couldn’t figure out what was actually wrong with him, he just seemed to slowly be drained of energy; fading away. He told me that he was paying for the sins of the past.
"Whose sins, I wondered, but he only smiled and said it didn’t matter whose they were just that they were. I never exactly knew what he meant, but it doesn't matter anymore. He's gone forever now."
"Gone forever…" She echoed softly, and they were both silent for a while, each occupied with their own memories of Jarod.
"Was that the promise...to inform me of his death in person?"
"No...well, yes...The main reason for my presence here is to give you this."
How she could have missed noticing the shoe box he was holding was beyond her comprehension. The years certainly hadn’t sharpened her mind, she reflected ruefully.
"Mystery always surrounded him. It still does, in fact. He named you as his only heir." Putting the box onto the coffee table in front of her he continued.
"Believe it or not, this is everything he owned except his clothes and a few knickknacks he kept in his office on campus. He asked me to deliver this box personally to you. If you don’t take it, or if I couldn’t find you, he told me to burn it."
What about his family? He searched for them for so many years----why didn’t he leave it to them?"
"I knew about his search. He rarely discussed his past, and everything I know is really just what I conjectured from his rare confidences when relaxed his guard. He mentioned that his parents had died long ago, but he never mentioned them again after that. The thing that puzzled me the most was that he had no family of his own----and everyone who knew him wondered why. There couldn’t be another man so suited to having a wife and children.
"He hardly ever lost his temper, in spite of my frequent questions, not even when I kept asking him about his past. In fact, I only remember him losing it with me once. It was on this day, I think----yes, yes it was on this day when I bumped into him in town. He always took today off, every year. He said it was his personal holiday. But I never knew what he did during his time away.
"When I ran across him in town, though, we chatted for a few minutes about generalities. Then I brought up my family. I told him that I always took a few days off every year to visit them too----I assumed, you see, that family was the reason for his absences. I joked with him that I would never get away with only one day to visit them, though.
"Suddenly he was yelling at me to mind my own business. If I really *had* to know, he went on to say, his family was dead and he had no intention of ever having one of his own. He wasn’t taking a family day, but a personal holiday-----a holiday of defeat, he called it.
"I remember thinking that was very strange; that anyone would expect him to *want* a family, as lonely as he was. In spite of his popularity, his generosity and many kind acts, he was basically the loneliest person I have ever met. I don’t know if he would have wanted me to share all of this with you, but…" Ryan’s voice trailed off and there was another silent moment between the two of them.
Lonely---the story of her life and her fault entirely. She believed everything Ryan had told her was the absolute truth. Jarod was one of the loneliest people she knew, barring herself, of course. But she’d never expected him to remain alone after he finally found his family. It was only now that she realized that she hadn’t ruined just her life, but she’d ruined his as well.
One thing that Ryan didn’t know; couldn’t know, was that Jarod *had* wanted a family of his own. He’d desperately wanted one, but she’d shattered that dream for him, hadn’t she? Her hands were shaking violently and her composure slipping away as she finally reached out for the box, running her fingers gently across the lid. Finally she picked it up, clasping it to her breast just as she would have held him if he’d been there. Opening it, she slowly began to inspect the contents inside.
Ryan noticed the naval cross first. It looked very old. There were also some pictures of people he’d never seen before. He recognized the subject of one old, wrinkled photograph, though----it was her; younger of course, and as beautiful as he had expected her to be. The same sad expression he’d seen when she first opened the door to him covered her face in that picture. She would have been stunningly gorgeous if she had only smiled.
There were also some odd things, like PEZ dispensers, a necklace that would have looked fine in an old Western movie, several small silver discs, and plenty of other items he couldn’t identify at all; let alone know how they could be important to Jarod. Well, except for the PEZ dispensers----Jarod had been addicted to them. The contents of the box meant nothing to him, but judging from her tender expression they certainly meant something to her. She was on the verge of tears, but she wouldn’t let them fall, he noticed. He found himself wondering how long her control would hold.
"Two roses." She blurted the words out abruptly.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Two roses. That's what he sent me every year on this day. Two roses; one white the other red." She clarified, her eyes still fixed on the contents of the box.
Friendship and love. Jarod had given him a book about flowers and their meanings on one of his birthdays. He said it was something definitely worth knowing. He hadn’t truly understood until now what Jarod had meant by that.
"Today would have been the fifteenth time. No matter where I was at the time, and I moved quite often over the years, but those roses always found their way to me until today."
"But I don't understand. Why did he..."
"Because I hurt him---I hurt him badly."
Ryan couldn't find any logic in her answer. Why would someone send flowers to someone who hurt him?
Why she felt the need to explain everything to him was beyond her. Perhaps she had kept this inside of her for too long. Ryan was a stranger, he had nothing to gain or lose by knowing the truth. If anyone stood to gain anything it was her. She needed to confess this and ease the burden of guilt that had grown on her soul as the years had gone by.
"He didn’t tell you the whole truth, you know----about not wanting his own family. Everything he did, who he was, screamed of his desire for family; to have one, not only with his parents and sister but also one he founded himself with some special woman." She stopped for a while thinking how to continue.
Suddenly she stood up, started pacing around the room, and continued her confession, "It doesn't matter so much now but in order for you to understand the story you have to know that Jarod and I grew up in an environment I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy. At first I considered myself lucky to have a family, unlike him, but later I realized how alike we were-- unhappy and alone.
"He managed to defeat the organization responsible for his---our suffering, against all odds, and all by himself. I hadn't been much help to him, stubborn and confused as I was. Then, after everything had gone to hell, so to speak, he came to me as he so often had in the past and requested that I finally trust him. He needed me to return his feelings of friendship and love, now that nothing stood in our way anymore. Be my Valentine, that's all he wanted. But his timing was wrong, so terribly wrong.
"I was angry, oh, God, I was angry, furious at the whole world, disappointed by those I had trusted and most of all furious at him just for being there and having that arrogant smirk on his face saying "I told you so."
"But that wasn’t what he was saying. I wasn't able to see his innocent soul and honesty, I was too damn proud and weak to accept his vulnerable heart reaching out to me. I rejected him. And I don't mean rejected him in the normal sense, I mocked him, humiliated him, degraded him the way he would never expect me to-----that I would never have believed I was capable of. I didn’t become aware of what I had done, of what I had said until I heard the door shut behind him.
"Then I ran after him screaming the words of apology and sorrow; not understanding how empty and meaningless they were in comparison to my betrayal of him."
***************************
Standing by the trees he watched her. Being so close to her again gave him the same sensation and warmth that he had felt when he first met her. Although he had expected her to be here today, he was still a bit surprised to see her. Part of him had doubted the truthfulness of the old man’s words, which was why he’d returned on this particular day. Seeing her there, looking so sad and alone almost made him feel sorry for her, but she wouldn't want that----not Parker.
She knelt by the grave nearly an hour before she stood up to leave.
The first thing he had noted on his initial visit to this place was the serenity and solitude of this place. He had visited a few graveyards over the years but this one was different...
"You feel it too, don't you?" Turning towards the voice he gasped in surprise. Standing before him was probably the oldest and the most peculiar man he had ever laid eyes upon.
"Don't let the sight of me fool you. I'm real and still very much alive. I can’t do the hundred yards dash in ten seconds anymore but my mind is as sharp as it has always been."
He was still speechless with surprise. It wasn’t often that someone succeeded in startling him so much.
"I don't get too many visitors up here so I couldn't help but notice you standing by the new one."
"New one?" He heard himself utter mechanically while he was still trying to adjust to the old man's appearance; his back bent a bit----although that was no wonder at his age. He wore old fashioned clothes and had a thick white beard. He looked like a character taken from one of the fairy tales he read as a youngster.
"Well, seven years but it's still fresh comparing to the others. That's probably why he's the only one of all those lonely souls that gets a visit once a year. Twice, counting you now."
"It was quite difficult to find this place. Refuge, I must add, is an interesting name for a cemetery. I didn't even know they could have names at all."
"Not my idea. A long time ago a woman had brought me here, gave me a job as a caretaker and told me to be nice to these poor souls. They hadn't had an easy life, she told me, so it was only right to give them peace and refuge in their final resting-place. She said it was the least she could do for them. And that's what it became; a refuge----I made sure of that. You couldn't find us up here because there's no official record of this graveyard. And even if people had known about this place they would have still preferred that fancy one near town; I'm sure of it as I stand before you. World's changing rapidly but here it is still like it was thirty years ago when she was still visiting us."
He intended to ask the old man about that second visitor to the "new one" but he didn't get the chance because the old man just couldn't stop talking. Obviously meeting people so rarely made him overly loquacious in return. He was undoubtedly eager to compensate for the lack of living conversationalists in his life. The poor lonely souls that shared his Refuge with him were hardly company. But the more he talked the faster the pieces of the puzzle surrounding this Refuge and its occupants fell into place.
"It was really busy here thirty years ago. Almost every six months there was a new arrival, big caskets, small caskets, heavy, light you name it, they all went through my hands, so to speak. Later urns replaced them, of course. Strange and impersonal as it all was that nice lady, who had hired me to take care of them, made it better by coming here once a year putting a flower on each and every one of those graves. The only person remembering this place...I miss her." The old man's thoughts drifted away for a second but he quickly recovered. "And then suddenly everything changed. First she stopped coming-- something must have happened to her; then, several years later the new arrivals stopped all together. I have a suspicion it had to do with closing down that strange place below at the foot of the hill. Who knows? I've been the sole guardian of this place ever since, but I found out that I wasn’t the only one after all. A few years back some city men wanted to tear this place down to build a factory, but someone or rather 'something' prevented it." After saying that he looked suggestively up to the sky.
"Now that I think about it, that lady who has been visiting the same grave as you just did looks exactly like 'our' lady friend from the past."
It had to be Parker, it had to. But why would she want to visit his grave after everything she had done. Maybe the old man could give him some insight into understanding her better.
"Would you be so kind and tell me something about her? You said she was the only one who came here after the new..."
"The only person after the lady from the past..."
"Amazing! This really is a refuge of the lonely souls, isn't it?"
"Yes, that's what I've been telling you all along. Pay attention!" The impatience amused him but he held himself back from laughing. His earlier decision to leave the old man to his ‘lonely souls’ and memories and depart as soon as he could had been replaced with an eager anticipation for the rest of the puzzle pieces to the mystery he was unraveling.
"I can still hear the crying that startled me one day when I was mowing the lawn behind those trees. It was one of those moments when you know you shouldn't intrude so I just stayed hidden and listened. Well, I was also a bit interested in what that sobbing was all about; never had the experience of someone mourning here before, you know."
"She was crying?!"
"Yes, and all the time repeating the same words-- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, so very sorry and cried and cried. I got so worried about her that I gathered my courage and approached her. She never noticed me and I was standing only three feet away. She was repeatedly moving her fingers gently over the letters cut in the stone like they were made from the finest glass.
"When she turned around and saw me she froze for a moment and then started running not once looking back. I still feel guilty for disturbing her and although she never cried again except for that first time I will carry the image of that deep pain in her tormented eyes with me for as long as I live."
"So she came again?"
"Yes, she has been coming here ever since, once a year, always on the same day and never without those two roses; red and white."
He gasped in surprise again. So she did care about him after all. Why, why, why his mind screamed. So much time lost, so many lives destroyed, and for what? Her choice, their pain, had profited no one.
************************
"Jarod...?"
"No, I'm not him. My name is Jordan."
J...Jordan?" She had that look in her eyes that-----damned look he hated so much. It's been a while since he saw such expression on someone's face but it still bothered him.
No, not bothered or annoyed, he simply hated being mistaken for Jarod and hated to see that look of disappointment that replaced the one of joy and happiness. And Parker's was even worse. The glimpse of hope in her eyes dying the moment he mentioned his name was Jordan not Jarod filled him with feelings of anger and sadness at the same time.
"Don't you remember me? We had met once before, ages ago..." still no sign of recognition, "For God's sake, I'm Jarod's..."
"No, no, I'm sorry...I remember who you are, of course I do." She was focusing her warm smile completely on him now and he calmed down, ashamed of his emotional response.
She'll never know how grateful he was to her for interrupting him before he'd be forced to say that awful word - clone. His emotional baggage and the unresolved issues eating him inside were getting stronger and harder to bear by the day but he shouldn't blame her for that. Her smile faded slightly after continuing,
"It's just...the last time I saw Jarod he was about your age and...well, probably you know that we didn’t part on the best of terms. So when you appeared in front of me out of nowhere I was taken aback a little. But I'm fully functional now, all plugs and wires back in their places, I assure you."
A short ragged laugh escaped his mouth almost against his will. A sense of humor in this situation? That was something that would definitely be worth remembering.
"There must be a reason you're here. Is it me or Jarod?" A straightforward and simple question that should have received the same response, but nothing was simple with him, was it?
He had asked himself a million times what he actually wanted here. Missing his 'brother' would be an exaggeration at the very least, if not an outright lie. Avoiding this place for seven years and now coming the second time in two months because he missed Jarod was certainly not a plausible explanation. Was it her he wanted to see? Perhaps that was it; why else would've he come on this day otherwise? In some small way it was a little of both, he finally decided.
Keeping his distance from Jarod had satisfied him at the beginning. It had given him a sense of individuality and independence, a feeling he had needed desperately while growing up in that horrible place. But feeling like an individual had become impossible after years of looking at himself twenty years down the road. Only now was the feeling of emptiness and the knowledge that something had been missing during all those years apart starting to sink into his mind.
It was at that point in his musings that his anger towards "poor" Miss Parker arose again. She had been so nice to him; comforting him, promising him a better life after she helped him escape the Centre. But then she had destroyed any chance he’d had at a happy life…
That last thought scared him dreadfully. If she had ruined his own life when she’d destroyed Jarod’s, then he was admitting that he was not Jordan, but Jarod. No, no that wasn’t acceptable.
She hadn’t ruined *his* life; she had ruined Jarod's. Running away hadn't solved anything; being mad at Jarod for his mere existence was unfair, and in the end... Where did all that bring him? Here, slowly realizing that he was still him no matter how deep his denial was buried.
"To be honest, because of you, Jarod and me."
"I see." He wondered if she really could.
"I do. I can see you don't believe me---but it's not important. As surprised as I am to see you, I’m also very happy you’re here. Honestly. I have often wondered what path your life has taken and whether or not you're happy."
She gathered from Jordan's expression that he was not.
Did destiny have to be so cruel? She had always thought of him as Jarod's second chance to be normal and content with his life. But it seemed that even that had been denied by fate. Not wanting to distress him any further she quickly shook her head indicating that he didn't need to answer her question. Instead she asked another one, not realizing that it would be just as distressing as her previous question---if not more.
"Tell me something about him...about Jarod...please. The things I picked up from his time at the University were sketchy and didn’t draw a happy picture of his life. Please tell me he was happy, at least for some time. He had to be after he found his family and you were all reunited. Tell me he was content...please, tell me he was."
She was on the verge of tears and openly begging him for any kind of information that would ease her guilt, but she didn't know that he knew even less about Jarod's life as she has. University---he’d had no idea Jarod had even been at one, let alone which one or what else he might have done with his life. He was guilty of abandoning him, too.
"I don't know much about him really. We were never a family again after his...our parents died. There was a constant tension between us. I was the main reason for it but in the end Jarod gave in and admitted that we couldn't live together after our parents' death. He tried very hard to prevent our estrangement despite of me and my actions but there was no neutral ground between us anymore to ease that tension. We totally lost contact and I had only gathered the strength to come here two months ago. So you see, you are not alone in seeking his forgiveness by his grave and not while he was alive when it could have actually made a difference."
Finally looking at her more carefully, he noticed her pale face and tortured eyes and the sadness the old man had mentioned. His confession certainly hadn't helped her conscience, if anything, their encounter had aged her ten years, so devastated did she look at that point.
"The thing I don't understand is why he is buried here and not with our parents or at the place he had lived?"
"It was his wish."
"Why would he want his last resting place to be the graveyard reserved for failed Centre experiments?"
"You answered your own question. By deserting him, we made him feel just that-- that he was a lab experiment not worthy of any different fate than all those unfortunate souls resting here. Living alone and dying alone as well----I can't do anything about that but I can try to make it up for abandoning him by remembering him and keeping him company now."
Saying this, she decided to leave. She couldn't stand talking to Jordan any longer. It wasn’t his fault; she just felt what little strength she had left draining away and she knew that if she didn’t leave soon she would fall apart right in front of him. It was not an impression she waned to leave behind her---one of weakness and defeat. It was probably too late already; if he was anything like Jarod at all he’d already seen right through her. She was going to try, though.
"Jarod was a good man...I did love him." She said with her last strength. She managed with the last of her energy.
"I believe you... I know you did, despite everything." He was looking after her retreating figure when all of a sudden he felt he couldn't let her go like that. He wouldn't have been able to explain why but he felt a strong urge to comfort her. It was like being driven by some higher force.
"He forgave you, a long time ago." His words made her stop abruptly but she didn't turn. "Those two roses meant forgiveness. Don't ask me how I know this, maybe because I'm him...or partly him...oh, hell, even I don't know who I am but I'm certain of this; he forgave you the first time he sent them to you...the time has come now for you to forgive yourself."
Still with her back to him she said, "Thank you, Jordan." And then she left; not once turning around because she didn't want him to see the tears streaming down her face or the hopeless yearning shining from her eyes that Jarod had been the one standing there and saying those words of forgiveness instead of him.
*************************
Avoiding this place for so long and now coming here the third time in six months would normally made him laugh, but the irony eluded him this time. A sort of expectant air hovered over this place now, different than before. It felt like an end of one era and the beginning of a new one.
Was it presumptuous of him to think that he could lay the foundations for the new one? Not according to the letter but still---did he have the strength to do it?
"They are together now." The always unexpected voice belonged to the old man taking care of this place.
He had an annoying habit of sneaking up on him without being noticed every time he had come here. Jordan wondered how he managed it at his age. Nodding his head in agreement, he directed his look back at the tombstone and knelt down besides it, extending his hand to follow the line of the letters with his fingers like he had seen miss Parker do. So simple----just two names, nothing else, and yet so much meaning in it; JAROD on top and VALENTINE beneath.
"The only grave here with two names on it, you know." The old man informed him. "I didn’t have the privilege of knowing them but I have a feeling that they belong together."
"Yes, they do. She had kept her promise of never letting him be alone again. They were both extraordinary and special in their own way. Jarod was----my brother and Valentine----she was the love of his life. Not many things happened the way they had wished but destiny brought them together in the end."
"You will come here again, won't you?"
"Of course. I would come again even if hadn't a promise to keep. Besides, I am going to be staying in this area for a while. I finally have a purpose in my life, a second chance if you'd like, and I'm not going to let it pass."
"So the letter helped?"
"You have no idea how much." After another long period of silence he turned to the old man. "Take good care of them."
"You can count on me...and Him, sir." He did that often, Jordan noticed, pointed up to the sky alluding to the possibility of God having something to do with everything related to this Refuge. Whatever... He had one more stop to make today so he decided to leave the old man to his delusions and drove away.
**************************
Sitting in his spacious, comfortable office he couldn't stop his thoughts from drifting back a year and remembering the events and especially people that have brought him here. Despite Jarod's immense influence on his entire life it was Miss Parker of all people who had given him what he had now----a purpose, a goal he wanted and had been searching for unsuccessfully for all those years.
The old man at the cemetery asked him if the letter had helped. Ah, the letter. It was still one of his most valuable possessions. It was also a reminder, a reminder of their mistakes and his own fears. And that's why he kept it; to never repeat or forget the same faults and most of all to never give in to his fears again. He stood up from the chair and took the letter from the safe wanting to read it again. He did that once in a while ever since the old man had given it to him. He said it was sent at the Refuge with instructions to be given to him the next time he came - To Jordan.
"How did you know it was for me? It only says to Jordan."
"God told me...besides you're the only person coming here, anyway." Came the confused answer.
Jordan hadn't been able to figure out what was wrong with this old man to this day, nothing obvious but he was strange all right. He wasn't sure that he even had a name so he always referred to him as the old man. Focusing on the letter in his hands he let his questioning thoughts about the sole breathing occupant of the Refuge pass by,
Dear Jordan,
I know this letter may come as a surprise to you, we briefly met only twice in our lives but it was more than enough for me to realize how important those short encounters had been. After reading this letter I hope you will at least understand if not agree. It's not in my nature to beat around the bush, so here's the point: I named you as my only heir in my last will and testament. And yes, there is a reason, bear with me I'm going to explain. My assets are large. There are some minor obligations and they must be kept in the future but all in all, the inheritance is a prize for you.
I'm not the type to give it all to charities so our meeting a few months ago enabled me to do something meaningful with it. You may not be aware of it but The Centre was and still is a Parker family possession, which means it has been mine for the last twenty years or so. It has been abandoned ever since its downfall. After I'm gone there will be no one left connected to that place anymore and that's why I believe it will be the time for someone to make it what it was founded for----an institution for research into and the development of the human mind; with an emphasis on special psychological abilities and their furtherance.
I would like that someone to be you, Jordan. There was never even a possibility of Jarod or I doing it; we were both too close to the horrors going on there and too affected by it to make a fresh start. But you, on the other hand, are perfect for the task. You experienced the place for long enough to know how dangerous such institution can become if placed in to the wrong hands and you weren’t so affected by it to lose the needed determination and strength to run it.
I believe---no, I know you have the willpower and desire to do it. I can't avoid saying this---you have his soul inside you no matter what. I felt it when we talked. You didn't believe me then but I understood what you were trying to tell me, what had been eating you inside for all those years and most of all I understood your reasons for coming.
And what I have to say is this; you are Jarod and at the same time you are not. He was unique, no one could replace him, especially in my eyes, but you are unique, too. You have an opportunity now to forge a different future; to make it better and more worthwhile. Not for Jarod, not for me, not for anybody but you and you alone.
You are creating your own life and the "Jarod" in you will only make the obstacles you encounter easier to overcome. He understood that, so he let you go---to find your own path through life. He only hoped that someday it would lead you back to him. And it did lead you to him; it also led you to me and I think you should continue to follow that path and see where it will take you next.
I want you to think about what I said and about my proposition. If you chose not to have anything to do with The Centre, the inheritance is still yours to have. If you do, there should be no problem in renovating and reopening it; the other parts of my property will provide sufficient funds for that.
In case you would want to refuse the heritage all together I have a special favor to ask of you. One of the pieces of property I own is The Refuge----the cemetery Jarod and I are buried on. I bought it a few years back when it was in danger of being torn down by the city. Surprisingly, it was never an official Centre property. Perhaps they were covering their tracks. The favor I'm asking is for you to take care of it. The old man, as caring as he is, can't last for much longer. If you do accept the challenge of running the reformed Centre, the Refuge will also be there as a reminder, a reminder you must never forget no matter what you decide.
One last note....
"I'm sorry to disturb you sir..." Upset at being interrupted by the voice on the intercom, he sounded quite annoyed when he answered.
"Yes?"
"I have this woman here at the gate who is looking for someone named Jordan and demanding to speak with him. She said that some old man at the Refuge had told her to look for him down here. She won’t leave without speaking to him and well, you are the only one with that name here that I know of so I called you to...."
"Let her in John."
"Okay, Sir." Jordan wondered what anybody could possibly want with the Refuge.
He hoped she wasn't one of those nosy reporters that had been lurking around ever since this place had reopened. And what, for God's sake, possessed that old man to direct her to him? He should've known better than to connect The Refuge to this place and expose it to the public. Besides, how on earth did he know where to find him in the first place? It seemed he knew more than he let on.
Standing up, he walked to the window and got sucked into memories again. He was so proud of his achievement. Who would've thought that in only six months this place would be running at full capacity? The first time he had laid eyes on this place was a year ago, and as abandoned as it had been, it really hadn't had the affect on him that he had anticipated. It had looked like any other closed facility. But he'd gone beyond the walls and, after entering to inspect the interior, the feelings he'd expected had emerged. Right then, in that spot, he had decided to do everything in his power to ensure that the next time he came here the feelings would be gone.
He had succeeded in that endeavor, and his only regret was that Jarod and Valentine weren’t there to see it. They would have been proud of him. He was so engrossed in his musings that he completely missed hearing the sound of his door opening, or the arrival of his visitor.
"I apologize but there was no one at your secretary's desk." The unexpected voice abruptly interrupting his reminiscing almost made him jump with surprise.
He turned quickly to identify the intruder and he suddenly felt something he hadn't felt for----well, ever. There she was, standing in his office, the most... the most...hell; he couldn't even find the right words to describe her. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen was nowhere near descriptive enough, she was so much more than that. He could feel her soul, literally. She brought something into his office with her that touched the most sensitive receptors in his brain.
He was totally at a loss for words. When she spoke again her voice sent shivers down his spine. It was low and husky but instead of sounding sultry or seductive she simply sounded unsure. He didn’t know how, but somehow he knew that she rarely showed such vulnerability in public.
"I did knock." She was talking very quickly, apparently explaining why she was here; he wouldn’t have been able to follow her words even if he hadn't been entirely mesmerized by her presence.
"Would it be very rude of me to ask you to repeat what you just said? I'm sorry but my thoughts just drifted away for a moment." He said with his most humble expression.
"Oh, I didn't mean to---I tend to talk very fast when I get nervous, you know."
Oops! That wasn’t exactly what she wanted to say, but this guy had knocked her off her feet the moment she had stepped into his office and saw him staring out the window. Instead of announcing herself she had stood by the door and watched him; for a moment she completely forgot why she had come at all. And when he turned and looked at her with those extraordinary soft yet sharply intelligent eyes she felt like she was touching his soul and he was touching hers.
She couldn't have found a rational explanation for it even if she had wanted to. No one had ever made such a powerful impression on her or made her speak with that tiny and insecure voice. She was well on her way to making a complete fool of herself. First she had totally intimidated the guard in the lobby and just a few minutes later she turned into total mush. She finally met the man of her dreams and can't speak a full sentence without stuttering. No wonder he didn’t understand a word she said.
"I came here because of my family. I----" Her explanation was cut off in mid-sentence by his abrupt question.
"I didn't catch your name." What was that she said to herself before--- a fool, confused but still a fool. She castigated herself for forgetting something so simple. The man actually made her feel like one!
"Oh, yes, of course. My name is Christina Mallory and as I said I came..." He interrupted her again.
"My name is Jordan but you already knew that. Do you like Chinese food?"
[What is wrong with him?] She wondered, beginning to feel irritated. [Didn’t he want to know why she was here? Why she had fought so hard to make him see her?]
He actually looked like he expected the answer to that absurd question of his. What did her taste in food got to do with----anything? Her blood was beginning to boil. She had a goal and not even this perfect male specimen standing before her was going to stop her from getting the answers she had come for. Perhaps she should be grateful to him; the insecurity from a few minutes ago had evaporated like it never existed.
"Sir----Jordan," she paused and smiled reassuringly like she would when talking to a small child, "I have a reason for coming here and I would very much appreciate if you took some of your precious time and listened to me. Is that too much to ask?"
Jordan suddenly remembered the Refuge and his fears of someone asking too many questions about it. Her appearance had totally thrown him off track. She had guts, though. He had to admit that; coming in here speaking like she was the one in charge, trying to put him on defensive.
"Yes, I want to know what you want and especially what it has to do with The Refuge...So, speak! You can sit down first of course,"
She hadn’t expected the sharpness in his voice and sat down obediently, although it was completely against her nature to comply with such thinly veiled commands. She was disappointed to see the man she sensed on entering disappear and someone tougher replace him. But she could see that the reason for his about face was his concern for that strange graveyard. It obviously meant a lot to him.
"At the cemetery the old man directed me to you. By the way, he really is odd, isn't he? He was mumbling something about being there for far too long because every time he gets a visit from a lady now-a-days, he sees the same one. Have you any idea what he meant by that?"
Jordan opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted before he could make a sound.
"He also said you might be able to help me with the search for my family. But first things first. You want to know why did I end up looking for my roots here?"
Finally, he thought amused at her bluntness. He tried to focus on the rapid delivery of information that followed, but his mind kept wandering to her affect on him, and he only caught snatches of her explanation.
She’d been given up for adoption almost three decades ago because her parents had died when she was a baby. An anonymous person had provided a trust fund for her. Then, six months ago the bank had informed her that a trustee was taking over the trust fund because the original benefactor had died. Then she’d hired a Private Investigator to find out the name of her benefactor. He’d come up with a name; Miss Parker, supposedly related to her and buried in Blue Cove Delaware? She’d found the cemetery; Refuge, and the old man saying that someone named Jordan had known the woman she was looking for and could help her further.
The moment she repeated the old man's words he knew why she looked so familiar to him. He was stunned.
[Is it possible?] His bewildered mind wondered? Her story only confirmed his previous suspicions but still----could it be possible?
"The trail of clues has led me to you. So can you tell me about my past? My family? My heritage?"
Had Jarod ever felt like this; trapped between desire and bitter reality? He was getting older and he had begun to wonder if he’d ever find someone that he could join his life to and have his own family with. The desire had never been so strong, nor had he ever felt like he was so close to fulfilling his dreams as he had the moment he turned from the window and saw her standing in the doorway, but he knew better than to believe she could, or would, be the one.
She was younger than he was, by more than ten years. She would never choose to be with him when she undoubtedly attracted men like flies to honey. Besides, she would never want to stay here after he told her about the past, her family and this place, and the part that his family had played in destroying hers. His words would destroy the dream utterly, and send this woman that he felt so bonded to running in the other direction.
True, her family wasn’t what she undoubtedly was hoping they had been; no one to be proud of with the exception of her aunt. He wondered if she could even cope with the ugly truth of her relatives, her very existence. Still, he sensed a powerful will, much like he’d sensed in her Aunt Valentine, but he couldn’t imagine anyone reacting well to having people like Brigitte and Lyle as your parents.
His concern for her unhappiness, and his foreboding of her rejection made his eyes sadden and his head bowed with the burden of the fears entering his heart. But then his eyes fell on the letter still lying on his desk and he remembered Parker’s final words to him.
Don't ever let your fears and insecurity win, don't let them consume you and prevent you from finding happiness and love----because if you do, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. Believe me, I know.
Suddenly his head came up and he walked towards her with the most amazing smile she had seen in her life. His hand was extended towards her in invitation as he spoke.
"Let's talk about your family over lunch. Would Chinese be okay?"
She had to close her eyes for a moment. His look wasn't inquiring about her taste in food; it was asking something more and promising at least as much in return. Her entire being recognized the inevitability of this moment. She knew that if she accepted that hand he offered her that her future would be forever intertwined with his; that once he got hold of her hand he would never let it go again.
Hesitating only for as long as it took her to breathe in, she slowly lifted her hand and placed it into his, feeling not even a moment of uncertainty. Her past didn't seem so very important anymore; it had fulfilled its purpose----her past had brought her to this man, and everything else faded in comparison. The smile accompanying her gesture promised him a world he dared to imagine only in his dreams.
He had wondered, somewhere in the back of his mind, if there was a woman who could fill the emptiness in his soul; someone destined to be with him, as Jarod and Valentine had seemed to be preordained to be together. Valentine had been unique, but Jarod had been re-created in him. Jordan had always feared that since he had been created by man and not God that he wasn’t fully human; that he was doomed to have the same longings and loves as Jarod, but that there would be no person to fulfill them----but today…. Today God had sent an angel to Earth just for him, and nothing was impossible anymore.
The day seemed brighter, the colors clearer, and everything had the glow of promise about it as he escorted her through the halls of the Centre, both of them rejoicing that fate had brought their paths together.
"Let me tell you about your aunt Valentine first. You have no idea how much you look like her...." Jordan began, a soft smile on his lips.
THE END
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