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Chapter or Story
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The King and the Pawn
The King and the Pawn
Puzzles
By Phenyx
The sun was just beginning to set in the west when there was a knock at the front door.
"Damn." Parker grumbled around the finger she had stuck in her mouth.
She was in no mood for company. Having spent the last several hours meticulously searching every painting from the closet, Parker was disheveled and filthy. None of the other paintings had seemed to contain foreign objects. But in order to be sure, she had used a sharp knife to cut open the backing of all the framed canvasses.
Parker had found no more photographs, no messages from her mother. She had succeeded only in slicing her finger, which was now bleeding. Pulling the finger from her mouth, Parker tried to inspect the damage but blood immediately began to well from the cut again, making it impossible to see the wound.
The knock at the front door was repeated and Parker stomped toward it.
"I'm coming, damn you." She hollered.
Peeking through the aperture in the door, Parker gasped when she realized the identity of her visitor. Throwing open the door she hissed, "Are you insane? You can't just waltz up to my front door in broad daylight!"
"Good afternoon, Ma'am. My name is Jarod and I have an incredible offer to share with you today. I represent the Kirby vacuum cleaner company and if you have a few minutes I'd like to show you the last vacuum you'll ever need to purchase." The tall lean man said seriously.
Miss Parker glared at him. "Jarod, you don't have any vacuum cleaner."
The athletically built, dark-haired man suddenly grinned, his handsome features brightening with mischievous glee. "I knew I was forgetting something." He snickered.
"For pity's sake get in here before someone sees you." Parker growled, stepping aside to let him pass.
Slamming the door closed once Jarod had entered, Miss Parker turned the deadbolt. As she slid the chain lock into place, she bumped her bleeding finger against the copper fastener.
"Damn." She muttered again shoving the offending appendage back into her mouth.
"Parker, you're bleeding." Jarod frowned.
"Brilliant, Sherlock." She groused. "No wonder they call you genius."
"What happened?" Jarod asked.
Parker glared at him. "I cut myself." She growled. She stormed into the kitchen and held the bleeding finger under the tap, letting cool water wash away the dust and grime on her hands.
"How did you manage that?" Jarod asked as he followed her.
"With a knife, you idiot." Parker snarled.
With a sigh, Jarod stepped over to the sink and gently pulled Parker's hand from under the water. "Let me see it." He said softly when she glared at him.
Parker nodded reluctantly.
Jarod took a paper towel from the rack nearby and wrapped it firmly around her finger. Grasping the wound, Jarod held the makeshift bandage tightly.
"Ouch." Parker frowned.
"I need to apply pressure to stop the bleeding." Jarod said. "Is the first aid kit still in the bathroom?"
"Yes." Parker hissed.
Still holding her hand firmly, Jarod led Parker through the house to the master bathroom. He opened a cupboard and retrieved the items he needed without hesitation.
Glaring angrily, Miss Parker said, "You could at least have the manners to act like you don't know my house as well as I do."
Jarod grinned crookedly at her. "I spend too much of my life pretending. Besides, I would never try to deceive you in any way, Miss Parker."
Parker scoffed. "You couldn't fool me. I'd see right through your charade."
Gazing seriously into Miss Parker's eyes Jarod tilted his head and murmured, "I don't doubt that one bit. You know me too well."
Jarod shrugged and bent over Parker's wounded hand. Peeling away the blood spotted paper towel, Jarod gingerly inspected the cut. "It isn't so bad." He commented. "You don't need stitches."
"Good." Parker sighed.
With a smirk, Jarod glanced up at her. "If I said you did need stitches, would you go to the E.R.?"
"Probably not." Parker admitted slyly.
Jarod chuckled softly as he cleaned the rest of the blood away, liberally applied antibiotic ointment and tightly bandaged Miss Parker's finger.
Inspecting the neat job when he'd finished, Miss Parker said, "Nice work. Thanks."
Jarod bowed tauntingly at her. "We aim to please, Ma'am. Now about that vacuum cleaner,"
"Shut up, Jarod." Parker moaned as she walked back toward the livingroom.
Jarod followed. "Got it. No vacuums." He grinned playfully at the glare Miss Parker threw over her shoulder. "Well then, can I see the photograph?"
Parker went to the studio where she'd left the photo sitting on the window seat. Handing the picture to Jarod she said, "I was looking through my mother's old paintings and found this between the canvas and the backing."
Jarod took the image as she offered it to him and slowly sat on the cushioned seat as he looked at the picture for the first time. Parker watched his reaction closely. For a moment he just blinked silently as though he expected the square of paper to vanish. Then a grin began to spread across his face.
Glancing at the woman standing at his side, Jarod said, "You were a cute baby, Miss Parker."
"All babies are cute, Jarod." She answered indulgently sitting carefully beside him.
Jarod laughed. "I guess we've known each other longer than we thought."
Parker shrugged. "I suppose there is the possibility that those are two different children. Or that could be you and some other little girl."
The pretender raised his eyebrows at her skeptically. "It has been my experience that Jarod is not a terribly popular name. And there are various ways of spelling it. The probability that this little boy happens to share my name without being me is highly unlikely. Even more unlikely would be your mother having a picture of some other little girl who just happens to share your birthday."
"I have no doubt that this is a picture of the two of us as babies. I just thought I should mention it is possible that I could be wrong." Parker said.
For several long minutes they sat in silence studying the photograph. After a time Jarod whispered, "May I have a copy of this?" Parker glanced at him questioningly and he shrugged sadly. "I have no baby pictures, Parker."
Parker nodded in understanding.
Jarod shook his head and laughed softly. "Its hard to imagine." He said. "You and I sitting together in this window, in this very spot, so many years ago. What does it mean?"
"I don't know." Parker said.
"Were my parents here with me?" Jarod asked.
"I don't know." Miss Parker repeated. "You know just as much as I do about it."
Jarod frowned. "In which painting did you find it hidden?"
Parker reached over and drew the storybook painting toward her. Showing the colorful artwork to Jarod she watched him smile delightedly. His laughter was much like Parker's had sounded when she'd first seen the painting again this morning.
"I recognize some of these characters." The pretender exclaimed. "That's Peter Pan."
A grin broke out on Miss Parker's face. "It figures that you would know about the boy who never grew up."
The two of them grinned ridiculously at each other for a moment. When Jarod looked back to the painting he asked, "I don't understand the poultry."
Parker snickered. Pointing to the ducks she said, "This is the story of the ugly duckling. The black one on the end isn't a duck at all. It's a swan."
Jarod frowned, tilting his head in concentration. "What about the chick with the umbrella?"
"Chicken Little." Parker replied. "Something fell on her head, an acorn I think, and she over-reacted. She thought the sky was falling."
Studying the pictures intently, Jarod gently brushed his fingertips across each colorful character. "Who are the children on the see-saw?"
Parker shrugged. "I always assumed that they were Hansel and Gretel."
At Jarod's questioning glance, Parker explained further. "Hansel and Gretel were left in the woods by their father because he couldn't support them. Lost and wandering in the forest they come across a house made of candy."
"Candy?" Jarod smiled.
Parker nodded. "Except a witch lives in the house. She locks them up and tries to eat them."
"That's a terrible story!" Jarod grumbled.
"It ends happily." Parker assured him. "They shove the witch into the oven, find their father and live in the candy house with plenty to eat."
"Cannibalism, murder, abandonment and starvation do not make for a good children's story if you ask me." Jarod said.
"I didn't write it Jarod." Parker chuckled. "I'm just repeating an ages old story."
Frowning, Jarod held the painting up for Parker to see. "Do you notice anything odd about this picture?" He asked.
Parker blinked in surprise. "No. I've known that picture all my life."
"Don't you think that the positioning of each character seems very. deliberate some how?" He said.
"What are you saying Jarod?" Miss Parker asked warningly.
Excitement brightened Jarod's eyes. "What if this means something?" Jarod asked. "What if this painting is actually some kind of map or a puzzle that needs to be deciphered?"
"Really?" Parker asked, flabbergasted.
Jarod shrugged. "I'm not sure. But my gut is telling me that this is important. This is very important somehow."
-
Some part of Jarod's mind knew that he was asleep. He'd sat in the studio in Parker's house for hours, staring at the colorful painting. He'd tried to imagine himself in the playground, riding the merry-go-round and the slide. He'd even made Parker bring him a ruler so that he could measure different aspects of the painting in an attempt to find some kind of pattern.
But hours had gone by and it had gotten dark. Parker had carried a lamp from another room so that Jarod could see. The pretender had racked his brain in an attempt to figure out what this painting was trying to say to him. Frustration crept into his mind to distract him.
Parker eagerly did her best to help him. But her enthusiasm only made matters worse. Jarod knew that Miss Parker was counting on him. She was depending on him to discover the hidden meaning in the fairy tale painting. The possibility of letting her down was crushing.
Jarod had used his calming exercises to overcome his frustration. One must have a clear mind in order to think clearly, Sydney had always said.
The pretender's deep breathing had worked. He had relaxed so completely that somewhere along the way he'd drifted to sleep, not even realizing that he had succeeded in achieving a form of self-hypnosis.
As a result, while one small part of his mind was aware that he lay curled on his side in the window seat, the rest of his consciousness was running through a mist shrouded forest. Jarod was running but he wasn't afraid. He ran through the fog happily, gleefully following the sound of a child's laughter.
Giggles surrounded him as Jarod dashed through the trees. His own voice bubbled in his ears as he laughed as well.
"This way, Jarod." A soft voice lilted through the mist. "Look this way."
Changing direction, Jarod now followed the soothing sound of a woman's voice. The voice sang a melody he knew all too well.
"Cree craw toad's foot geese walk barefoot." The voice sang. "Sing with me, Jarod. Sing with me. Cree craw toad's foot geese walk barefoot."
Jarod opened his mouth but the deep timber of his voice was gone, replaced by the lisp of a young child. "Cree craw toad foots geese walks bare foot."
Jarod suddenly found himself in a large room that resembled the studio in Miss Parker's house. But this room was huge compared to the one he's fallen asleep in. He abruptly felt himself flying in the air, twirling around and around as warm, safe arms danced him around the room.
"I knew you could do it, Jarod." The soft voice surrounded him. "You sweet baby. Promise me that you'll never forget."
Jarod blinked at the woman holding him in her arms. He was tired and he very much wanted to put his thumb in his mouth. But he had promised to be a good boy while his mommy and daddy were away. Mommy had told him that if he was very good, they would bring Jarod a brother or sister.
But he had to be good and not cry or suck his thumb like babies. He wasn't a baby anymore.
"Sing with me again, Jarod." The woman said.
Jarod obliged, his young voice calling out the words like a little parrot. "Cree craw toad foots geese walks bare foot."
"What a remarkable boy you are." She whispered. "Now you won't forget what Auntie Catherine taught you, right? Don't ever forget." She said, pointing to a painting with frogs and cows and piggies and ducks.
"That's you Jarod." The woman said. "That's you in the picture. Don't forget. Be a good boy and don't ever forget. That is you sitting right above the secret place."
"I'm a good boy." Baby Jarod vowed. He was being good. Maybe Mommy and Daddy would come back soon with a little brother. A brother would be better than a sister for Jarod had realized earlier today that girls didn't like to play trucks with him. Girls cried and sucked their thumbs.
Bouncing excitedly in the woman's arms Jarod sang for her once more, for good measure, "Cree craw toads foot geese walk barefoot."
The woman smiled gloriously. "Good boy. Mommy and Daddy will be so proud of you."
"Mommy?" Jarod asked hopefully.
"Not yet, precious." The woman soothed. "She isn't back yet."
Jarod sighed and put his head on the woman's shoulder. He was tired. He didn't want to wait anymore. He wanted his mommy and daddy. But it took a long time to get a baby, Jarod knew.
Daddy had told Jarod all about getting a baby. Mommy had to go to the place where Jarod had gotten stitches in his chin. You had to go to that scary place and wait and wait for your turn to see the people with the lollipops. But instead of getting stitches, Mommy would get a baby and bring it home for Jarod.
"She'll be back soon, precious." The woman cooed. She rocked Jarod back and forth as she whispered into his ear. "Don't forget, Jarod. Don't forget."
-
"Jarod?"
Snapping awake with a violent start, Jarod nearly tumbled off of the window seat. Miss Parker crouched beside him, her hair still damp from a recent shower.
"Jarod." Parker called firmly. "You're okay. It's only me."
Taking deep breaths, Jarod closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "How long have I been asleep?" he asked.
Parker shrugged. "A couple of hours. It's nearly midnight."
Running his hands through his hair Jarod stood and paced across the room.
"Are you okay?" Parker asked gently.
Jarod shook his head. "I can't figure it out, Parker." He sighed. "I know that painting is important. I can remember your mother telling me how important it is."
Parker stood and folded her arms. "You remember the painting?"
"Yes." The pretender whispered. "Until now, all I had remembered was the song. That stupid song."
Parker waited for Jarod to go on.
"For some reason I thought that my mother had taught it to me." He said.
Parker frowned. "Didn't she?"
"No." Jarod replied, shaking his head. "It was your mother."
"I don't understand." Parker said.
Jarod slumped down onto the cushioned seat. "I was here while my mother was in the hospital giving birth, to Kyle I guess."
"Your parents must have known mine pretty well, to leave you here like that." Parker said thoughtfully.
Jarod nodded. "One would assume. But I get the feeling that your father wasn't here."
"It wasn't usual for my mother to come up here in the middle of winter." Parker mused. "Maybe she brought us here rather than staying at the house with my father."
"Two toddlers would have been a nuisance to him." Jarod agreed.
"Jarod," Parker hesitated. "Is the painting a message of some kind?"
Jarod nodded. "Your mother said that I was in the painting, sitting over the secret place. But I don't understand the significance of the seesaw. I just can't figure it out." He growled angrily.
"You'll do it." Parker said confidently. "I know you will."
Jarod sighed.
"Tell you what." Parker suggested. "Let's get something to eat. Walk away from it for a little while."
Parker managed to get Jarod out of the room for all of about twenty minutes. She made him a fried egg sandwich, a delicacy Jarod had never tried, that he gulped down in three huge bites. Once she made him a second one, he took the sandwich and wandered back to the studio, munching away as he walked.
Parker quickly turned off the stove and hurried after the troubled pretender. She found him sitting cross-legged on the floor. The painting was propped up on the window seat so that Jarod had to look up to see it.
When he noticed her questioning look, Jarod explained, "Maybe a change of perspective will help. When I saw it as a baby, I would have been looking at it from this angle."
Curling her legs up beneath her, Parker sat down beside Jarod on the floor. They sat together in silence staring at the painting.
After a time Parker asked, "What did my mother tell you about the painting exactly?"
Jarod sighed. "She said that I was in the painting. That I'm sitting above the secret place."
"Nothing else?" Parker asked hopefully.
"Nothing." Jarod whined. "She just kept telling me not to forget. That I was sitting above the secret place and don't ever. " Jarod's face suddenly fell and his mouth dropped open in surprise.
"What?" Parker whispered.
"Idiot!" Jarod exclaimed, jumping up from the floor. "You stupid idiot!"
"What?" Parker cried.
Eyes flashing with excitement, Jarod frantically began searching his pockets. "She didn't say painting." Jarod said excitedly. "She said 'picture'. It's me in the picture and I'm sitting above the secret place."
Slowly pulling the photograph from his shirt pocket, Jarod held it out to Miss Parker. The two babies sat in the bay window totally ignorant of the misery looming in their futures. As if on cue Jarod and Miss Parker both turned toward the window seat as realization dawned on them both.
Scrambling across the floor they knelt in front of the wooden bench. Parker carefully lifted the painting aside as Jarod began tapping with his knuckles on the wooden outer surface of the window seat.
"It is hollow." He said, his eyes twinkling merrily.
Parker grinned. "Kick it in." she demanded.
"Wait." Jarod cautioned. He spent several moments inspecting the cushioned bench. Along the back edge, he found old coppery hinges tarnished with age. With his fingers, he tried to open the compartment to no avail. "It's nailed shut. Get me a hammer."
Parker dashed away, returning only moments later with a hammer and a long heavy screwdriver.
"Stand back." Jarod warned as he placed the screwdriver between the boards and whacked at it with the hammer. After a minute or two of prying at the sturdy old nails, they finally gave way with a shriek and the cushioned seat flew open.
Inside the dark chest they found only a metal box about the size of a large shoebox. The tiny lock was merely a formality as Jarod easily pounded it open with the hammer.
Giggling at each other in triumph, Jarod tilted the box to reveal its contents to Miss Parker. It was a very old, leather bound book, worn soft with use. Engraved on the cover along the bottom of the book was the name "E. J. Parker"
Jarod carefully lifted the book out of its metal case and flipped through the pages. Each page was covered with neat handwritten script. Only the last handful of pages were blank. As Jarod came to the end of the book, an envelope made of high quality paper slipped from within and dropped to the floor.
Parker crouched and picked up the envelope. A chill of foreboding raced down her spine as she read the words on the front.
"The last will and testament of Eugene Jarod Parker." She read aloud.
Jarod swallowed. "I have bad feeling about this, Parker." He said as he handed the leather bound volume over to her.
Parker didn't respond, choosing instead to inspect the book in her hands. She turned it over and over, feeling its smoothness before she finally worked up the courage to open it. She was aware of Jarod nearly pressing against her back as he leaned over her shoulder to see the first page with her.
"February 19th, 1899" was written at the top of the page.
The first paragraph read, "I am Eugene Jarod Parker. Most everyone who knew me called me Gene. At least that is who I was, before that life ended. My mother and my brothers and sister are all dead, and all who knew me believe me dead with them. I am fifteen years of age and this is the tale of my journey to America."
The King and the Pawn
The King and the Pawn
Puzzles
By Phenyx
The sun was just beginning to set in the west when there was a knock at the front door.
"Damn." Parker grumbled around the finger she had stuck in her mouth.
She was in no mood for company. Having spent the last several hours meticulously searching every painting from the closet, Parker was disheveled and filthy. None of the other paintings had seemed to contain foreign objects. But in order to be sure, she had used a sharp knife to cut open the backing of all the framed canvasses.
Parker had found no more photographs, no messages from her mother. She had succeeded only in slicing her finger, which was now bleeding. Pulling the finger from her mouth, Parker tried to inspect the damage but blood immediately began to well from the cut again, making it impossible to see the wound.
The knock at the front door was repeated and Parker stomped toward it.
"I'm coming, damn you." She hollered.
Peeking through the aperture in the door, Parker gasped when she realized the identity of her visitor. Throwing open the door she hissed, "Are you insane? You can't just waltz up to my front door in broad daylight!"
"Good afternoon, Ma'am. My name is Jarod and I have an incredible offer to share with you today. I represent the Kirby vacuum cleaner company and if you have a few minutes I'd like to show you the last vacuum you'll ever need to purchase." The tall lean man said seriously.
Miss Parker glared at him. "Jarod, you don't have any vacuum cleaner."
The athletically built, dark-haired man suddenly grinned, his handsome features brightening with mischievous glee. "I knew I was forgetting something." He snickered.
"For pity's sake get in here before someone sees you." Parker growled, stepping aside to let him pass.
Slamming the door closed once Jarod had entered, Miss Parker turned the deadbolt. As she slid the chain lock into place, she bumped her bleeding finger against the copper fastener.
"Damn." She muttered again shoving the offending appendage back into her mouth.
"Parker, you're bleeding." Jarod frowned.
"Brilliant, Sherlock." She groused. "No wonder they call you genius."
"What happened?" Jarod asked.
Parker glared at him. "I cut myself." She growled. She stormed into the kitchen and held the bleeding finger under the tap, letting cool water wash away the dust and grime on her hands.
"How did you manage that?" Jarod asked as he followed her.
"With a knife, you idiot." Parker snarled.
With a sigh, Jarod stepped over to the sink and gently pulled Parker's hand from under the water. "Let me see it." He said softly when she glared at him.
Parker nodded reluctantly.
Jarod took a paper towel from the rack nearby and wrapped it firmly around her finger. Grasping the wound, Jarod held the makeshift bandage tightly.
"Ouch." Parker frowned.
"I need to apply pressure to stop the bleeding." Jarod said. "Is the first aid kit still in the bathroom?"
"Yes." Parker hissed.
Still holding her hand firmly, Jarod led Parker through the house to the master bathroom. He opened a cupboard and retrieved the items he needed without hesitation.
Glaring angrily, Miss Parker said, "You could at least have the manners to act like you don't know my house as well as I do."
Jarod grinned crookedly at her. "I spend too much of my life pretending. Besides, I would never try to deceive you in any way, Miss Parker."
Parker scoffed. "You couldn't fool me. I'd see right through your charade."
Gazing seriously into Miss Parker's eyes Jarod tilted his head and murmured, "I don't doubt that one bit. You know me too well."
Jarod shrugged and bent over Parker's wounded hand. Peeling away the blood spotted paper towel, Jarod gingerly inspected the cut. "It isn't so bad." He commented. "You don't need stitches."
"Good." Parker sighed.
With a smirk, Jarod glanced up at her. "If I said you did need stitches, would you go to the E.R.?"
"Probably not." Parker admitted slyly.
Jarod chuckled softly as he cleaned the rest of the blood away, liberally applied antibiotic ointment and tightly bandaged Miss Parker's finger.
Inspecting the neat job when he'd finished, Miss Parker said, "Nice work. Thanks."
Jarod bowed tauntingly at her. "We aim to please, Ma'am. Now about that vacuum cleaner,"
"Shut up, Jarod." Parker moaned as she walked back toward the livingroom.
Jarod followed. "Got it. No vacuums." He grinned playfully at the glare Miss Parker threw over her shoulder. "Well then, can I see the photograph?"
Parker went to the studio where she'd left the photo sitting on the window seat. Handing the picture to Jarod she said, "I was looking through my mother's old paintings and found this between the canvas and the backing."
Jarod took the image as she offered it to him and slowly sat on the cushioned seat as he looked at the picture for the first time. Parker watched his reaction closely. For a moment he just blinked silently as though he expected the square of paper to vanish. Then a grin began to spread across his face.
Glancing at the woman standing at his side, Jarod said, "You were a cute baby, Miss Parker."
"All babies are cute, Jarod." She answered indulgently sitting carefully beside him.
Jarod laughed. "I guess we've known each other longer than we thought."
Parker shrugged. "I suppose there is the possibility that those are two different children. Or that could be you and some other little girl."
The pretender raised his eyebrows at her skeptically. "It has been my experience that Jarod is not a terribly popular name. And there are various ways of spelling it. The probability that this little boy happens to share my name without being me is highly unlikely. Even more unlikely would be your mother having a picture of some other little girl who just happens to share your birthday."
"I have no doubt that this is a picture of the two of us as babies. I just thought I should mention it is possible that I could be wrong." Parker said.
For several long minutes they sat in silence studying the photograph. After a time Jarod whispered, "May I have a copy of this?" Parker glanced at him questioningly and he shrugged sadly. "I have no baby pictures, Parker."
Parker nodded in understanding.
Jarod shook his head and laughed softly. "Its hard to imagine." He said. "You and I sitting together in this window, in this very spot, so many years ago. What does it mean?"
"I don't know." Parker said.
"Were my parents here with me?" Jarod asked.
"I don't know." Miss Parker repeated. "You know just as much as I do about it."
Jarod frowned. "In which painting did you find it hidden?"
Parker reached over and drew the storybook painting toward her. Showing the colorful artwork to Jarod she watched him smile delightedly. His laughter was much like Parker's had sounded when she'd first seen the painting again this morning.
"I recognize some of these characters." The pretender exclaimed. "That's Peter Pan."
A grin broke out on Miss Parker's face. "It figures that you would know about the boy who never grew up."
The two of them grinned ridiculously at each other for a moment. When Jarod looked back to the painting he asked, "I don't understand the poultry."
Parker snickered. Pointing to the ducks she said, "This is the story of the ugly duckling. The black one on the end isn't a duck at all. It's a swan."
Jarod frowned, tilting his head in concentration. "What about the chick with the umbrella?"
"Chicken Little." Parker replied. "Something fell on her head, an acorn I think, and she over-reacted. She thought the sky was falling."
Studying the pictures intently, Jarod gently brushed his fingertips across each colorful character. "Who are the children on the see-saw?"
Parker shrugged. "I always assumed that they were Hansel and Gretel."
At Jarod's questioning glance, Parker explained further. "Hansel and Gretel were left in the woods by their father because he couldn't support them. Lost and wandering in the forest they come across a house made of candy."
"Candy?" Jarod smiled.
Parker nodded. "Except a witch lives in the house. She locks them up and tries to eat them."
"That's a terrible story!" Jarod grumbled.
"It ends happily." Parker assured him. "They shove the witch into the oven, find their father and live in the candy house with plenty to eat."
"Cannibalism, murder, abandonment and starvation do not make for a good children's story if you ask me." Jarod said.
"I didn't write it Jarod." Parker chuckled. "I'm just repeating an ages old story."
Frowning, Jarod held the painting up for Parker to see. "Do you notice anything odd about this picture?" He asked.
Parker blinked in surprise. "No. I've known that picture all my life."
"Don't you think that the positioning of each character seems very. deliberate some how?" He said.
"What are you saying Jarod?" Miss Parker asked warningly.
Excitement brightened Jarod's eyes. "What if this means something?" Jarod asked. "What if this painting is actually some kind of map or a puzzle that needs to be deciphered?"
"Really?" Parker asked, flabbergasted.
Jarod shrugged. "I'm not sure. But my gut is telling me that this is important. This is very important somehow."
-
Some part of Jarod's mind knew that he was asleep. He'd sat in the studio in Parker's house for hours, staring at the colorful painting. He'd tried to imagine himself in the playground, riding the merry-go-round and the slide. He'd even made Parker bring him a ruler so that he could measure different aspects of the painting in an attempt to find some kind of pattern.
But hours had gone by and it had gotten dark. Parker had carried a lamp from another room so that Jarod could see. The pretender had racked his brain in an attempt to figure out what this painting was trying to say to him. Frustration crept into his mind to distract him.
Parker eagerly did her best to help him. But her enthusiasm only made matters worse. Jarod knew that Miss Parker was counting on him. She was depending on him to discover the hidden meaning in the fairy tale painting. The possibility of letting her down was crushing.
Jarod had used his calming exercises to overcome his frustration. One must have a clear mind in order to think clearly, Sydney had always said.
The pretender's deep breathing had worked. He had relaxed so completely that somewhere along the way he'd drifted to sleep, not even realizing that he had succeeded in achieving a form of self-hypnosis.
As a result, while one small part of his mind was aware that he lay curled on his side in the window seat, the rest of his consciousness was running through a mist shrouded forest. Jarod was running but he wasn't afraid. He ran through the fog happily, gleefully following the sound of a child's laughter.
Giggles surrounded him as Jarod dashed through the trees. His own voice bubbled in his ears as he laughed as well.
"This way, Jarod." A soft voice lilted through the mist. "Look this way."
Changing direction, Jarod now followed the soothing sound of a woman's voice. The voice sang a melody he knew all too well.
"Cree craw toad's foot geese walk barefoot." The voice sang. "Sing with me, Jarod. Sing with me. Cree craw toad's foot geese walk barefoot."
Jarod opened his mouth but the deep timber of his voice was gone, replaced by the lisp of a young child. "Cree craw toad foots geese walks bare foot."
Jarod suddenly found himself in a large room that resembled the studio in Miss Parker's house. But this room was huge compared to the one he's fallen asleep in. He abruptly felt himself flying in the air, twirling around and around as warm, safe arms danced him around the room.
"I knew you could do it, Jarod." The soft voice surrounded him. "You sweet baby. Promise me that you'll never forget."
Jarod blinked at the woman holding him in her arms. He was tired and he very much wanted to put his thumb in his mouth. But he had promised to be a good boy while his mommy and daddy were away. Mommy had told him that if he was very good, they would bring Jarod a brother or sister.
But he had to be good and not cry or suck his thumb like babies. He wasn't a baby anymore.
"Sing with me again, Jarod." The woman said.
Jarod obliged, his young voice calling out the words like a little parrot. "Cree craw toad foots geese walks bare foot."
"What a remarkable boy you are." She whispered. "Now you won't forget what Auntie Catherine taught you, right? Don't ever forget." She said, pointing to a painting with frogs and cows and piggies and ducks.
"That's you Jarod." The woman said. "That's you in the picture. Don't forget. Be a good boy and don't ever forget. That is you sitting right above the secret place."
"I'm a good boy." Baby Jarod vowed. He was being good. Maybe Mommy and Daddy would come back soon with a little brother. A brother would be better than a sister for Jarod had realized earlier today that girls didn't like to play trucks with him. Girls cried and sucked their thumbs.
Bouncing excitedly in the woman's arms Jarod sang for her once more, for good measure, "Cree craw toads foot geese walk barefoot."
The woman smiled gloriously. "Good boy. Mommy and Daddy will be so proud of you."
"Mommy?" Jarod asked hopefully.
"Not yet, precious." The woman soothed. "She isn't back yet."
Jarod sighed and put his head on the woman's shoulder. He was tired. He didn't want to wait anymore. He wanted his mommy and daddy. But it took a long time to get a baby, Jarod knew.
Daddy had told Jarod all about getting a baby. Mommy had to go to the place where Jarod had gotten stitches in his chin. You had to go to that scary place and wait and wait for your turn to see the people with the lollipops. But instead of getting stitches, Mommy would get a baby and bring it home for Jarod.
"She'll be back soon, precious." The woman cooed. She rocked Jarod back and forth as she whispered into his ear. "Don't forget, Jarod. Don't forget."
-
"Jarod?"
Snapping awake with a violent start, Jarod nearly tumbled off of the window seat. Miss Parker crouched beside him, her hair still damp from a recent shower.
"Jarod." Parker called firmly. "You're okay. It's only me."
Taking deep breaths, Jarod closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "How long have I been asleep?" he asked.
Parker shrugged. "A couple of hours. It's nearly midnight."
Running his hands through his hair Jarod stood and paced across the room.
"Are you okay?" Parker asked gently.
Jarod shook his head. "I can't figure it out, Parker." He sighed. "I know that painting is important. I can remember your mother telling me how important it is."
Parker stood and folded her arms. "You remember the painting?"
"Yes." The pretender whispered. "Until now, all I had remembered was the song. That stupid song."
Parker waited for Jarod to go on.
"For some reason I thought that my mother had taught it to me." He said.
Parker frowned. "Didn't she?"
"No." Jarod replied, shaking his head. "It was your mother."
"I don't understand." Parker said.
Jarod slumped down onto the cushioned seat. "I was here while my mother was in the hospital giving birth, to Kyle I guess."
"Your parents must have known mine pretty well, to leave you here like that." Parker said thoughtfully.
Jarod nodded. "One would assume. But I get the feeling that your father wasn't here."
"It wasn't usual for my mother to come up here in the middle of winter." Parker mused. "Maybe she brought us here rather than staying at the house with my father."
"Two toddlers would have been a nuisance to him." Jarod agreed.
"Jarod," Parker hesitated. "Is the painting a message of some kind?"
Jarod nodded. "Your mother said that I was in the painting, sitting over the secret place. But I don't understand the significance of the seesaw. I just can't figure it out." He growled angrily.
"You'll do it." Parker said confidently. "I know you will."
Jarod sighed.
"Tell you what." Parker suggested. "Let's get something to eat. Walk away from it for a little while."
Parker managed to get Jarod out of the room for all of about twenty minutes. She made him a fried egg sandwich, a delicacy Jarod had never tried, that he gulped down in three huge bites. Once she made him a second one, he took the sandwich and wandered back to the studio, munching away as he walked.
Parker quickly turned off the stove and hurried after the troubled pretender. She found him sitting cross-legged on the floor. The painting was propped up on the window seat so that Jarod had to look up to see it.
When he noticed her questioning look, Jarod explained, "Maybe a change of perspective will help. When I saw it as a baby, I would have been looking at it from this angle."
Curling her legs up beneath her, Parker sat down beside Jarod on the floor. They sat together in silence staring at the painting.
After a time Parker asked, "What did my mother tell you about the painting exactly?"
Jarod sighed. "She said that I was in the painting. That I'm sitting above the secret place."
"Nothing else?" Parker asked hopefully.
"Nothing." Jarod whined. "She just kept telling me not to forget. That I was sitting above the secret place and don't ever. " Jarod's face suddenly fell and his mouth dropped open in surprise.
"What?" Parker whispered.
"Idiot!" Jarod exclaimed, jumping up from the floor. "You stupid idiot!"
"What?" Parker cried.
Eyes flashing with excitement, Jarod frantically began searching his pockets. "She didn't say painting." Jarod said excitedly. "She said 'picture'. It's me in the picture and I'm sitting above the secret place."
Slowly pulling the photograph from his shirt pocket, Jarod held it out to Miss Parker. The two babies sat in the bay window totally ignorant of the misery looming in their futures. As if on cue Jarod and Miss Parker both turned toward the window seat as realization dawned on them both.
Scrambling across the floor they knelt in front of the wooden bench. Parker carefully lifted the painting aside as Jarod began tapping with his knuckles on the wooden outer surface of the window seat.
"It is hollow." He said, his eyes twinkling merrily.
Parker grinned. "Kick it in." she demanded.
"Wait." Jarod cautioned. He spent several moments inspecting the cushioned bench. Along the back edge, he found old coppery hinges tarnished with age. With his fingers, he tried to open the compartment to no avail. "It's nailed shut. Get me a hammer."
Parker dashed away, returning only moments later with a hammer and a long heavy screwdriver.
"Stand back." Jarod warned as he placed the screwdriver between the boards and whacked at it with the hammer. After a minute or two of prying at the sturdy old nails, they finally gave way with a shriek and the cushioned seat flew open.
Inside the dark chest they found only a metal box about the size of a large shoebox. The tiny lock was merely a formality as Jarod easily pounded it open with the hammer.
Giggling at each other in triumph, Jarod tilted the box to reveal its contents to Miss Parker. It was a very old, leather bound book, worn soft with use. Engraved on the cover along the bottom of the book was the name "E. J. Parker"
Jarod carefully lifted the book out of its metal case and flipped through the pages. Each page was covered with neat handwritten script. Only the last handful of pages were blank. As Jarod came to the end of the book, an envelope made of high quality paper slipped from within and dropped to the floor.
Parker crouched and picked up the envelope. A chill of foreboding raced down her spine as she read the words on the front.
"The last will and testament of Eugene Jarod Parker." She read aloud.
Jarod swallowed. "I have bad feeling about this, Parker." He said as he handed the leather bound volume over to her.
Parker didn't respond, choosing instead to inspect the book in her hands. She turned it over and over, feeling its smoothness before she finally worked up the courage to open it. She was aware of Jarod nearly pressing against her back as he leaned over her shoulder to see the first page with her.
"February 19th, 1899" was written at the top of the page.
The first paragraph read, "I am Eugene Jarod Parker. Most everyone who knew me called me Gene. At least that is who I was, before that life ended. My mother and my brothers and sister are all dead, and all who knew me believe me dead with them. I am fifteen years of age and this is the tale of my journey to America."
