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Chapter or Story
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. No money has changed hands and no copyright infringement is intended.
Thanks to my beta reader, Bec-Bec. Commas are our friends!
Invitations Part 1
By Phenyx
-
Major and Mrs. Charles Rourke
Request the honor of your presence
at the marriage of
Miss Zoë Amelia Bolger
to their son
Mr. Jarod Michael Rourke
Saturday, June fourteenth
Two Thousand three
at three o’clock
Trinity Church
24 Enola Drive
Ellingsworth, Nebraska
-
Miss Parker stood at her office window, gazing sightlessly through the glass as she thoughtfully tapped the ivory placard against her chin. The invitation was of a high quality, with the lettering engraved in silver. The edges of the card were adorned with designs of bells, roses and doves intertwined. It was lovely.
The card had arrived in her office mail this afternoon, addressed to "Miss M. Parker and guest." When she had first seen it, Parker had laughed. But the more she stared at it, the more irritating it became.
A soft voice from across her office caused Parker to turn with a hiss.
"I see that you’ve received one too," Sydney observed, holding up a matching white card.
"He’s rubbing our noses in it," Parker growled. "He’s laughing at us."
Sydney sighed. "Perhaps Jarod is simply creating a life for himself, now that The Centre’s hold on him is gone."
"If so, " Parker groused, "Wonder-boy is in an awfully big hurry. Lyle was indicted barely three months ago for pity’s sake."
Sydney shrugged. "I’m sure he has known this young lady long enough to know what he’s doing."
Parker slumped into the leather office chair beside her desk. It was too much. So much had happened so fast. Mr. Parker’s sudden death nearly a year ago had left Raines in charge at The Centre. With that ghoul at the helm, it hadn’t taken long for the rest of the world to realize what Miss Parker had known for years: William Raines was a maniacal fiend.
Lyle, psychopath that he was, had dutifully served at Raines’ side. By the time the Triumvirate became aware of the insanity of this new leadership, it was too late. Lyle’s nocturnal hobbies had brought down the wrath of federal investigators.
The Centre’s slide into oblivion had been devastatingly rapid. When Raines dropped dead from a stroke four months ago, all hell had broken loose. The Triumvirate had abandoned the facility with blinding speed in a feeble attempt at self-preservation.
Parker, Sydney and Broots still came to work every day, but pursuing Jarod was no longer on the agenda. Hundreds of employees had to be released. The courts had ordered copies of thousands of documents. Accountants were brought in to scour the books. Inmates and residents had to be evaluated and relocated.
Mr. Parker’s attempts to keep Centre secrets from his adopted daughter had turned out to be her salvation. According to the records, Miss Parker knew nothing about what had been going on around her. She and her team had come through the investigations looking like idiots, but none of them had to face any charges.
Jarod’s name never came up in any of the investigative reports. As usual, he had slipped through the minefield of lawyers and detectives without being noticed.
Sydney heard from the rat on a somewhat regular basis. Jarod was living in some Podunk little town on the far side of nowhere. He’d reunited with mommy and daddy. Evidently, the little pain in the ass was now getting hitched.
Turning toward Sydney with a frown, Parker abruptly asked, "Why would he invite me?"
Sydney shrugged. "He considers you a friend, Miss Parker."
Parker scoffed, "It’s more probable that he is trying to pad his half of the guest list. "
"He’s invited Angelo as well," Sydney stated. "Perhaps Jarod just wants his childhood friends to celebrate this joy with him."
"Well, I’m not going," Parker groused.
"Jarod will be disappointed," Sydney said gently.
"Tough," She growled. With a sigh, Parker moaned, "I won’t know anyone! It’ll be at least two days of fatal boredom."
"I’ll be there, Miss Parker," Sydney offered. "And Angelo too."
Parker rolled her eyes. "Oh that helps."
"As the groom’s brother, I’m sure that Ethan will attend," Sydney suggested.
Parker sighed. She hadn’t seen her half-brother, Ethan, in ages.
Sydney suppressed a smirk. He could see Parker teetering on the edge of submission. "I look forward to talking with the Major again. And meeting Jarod’s mother will be an honor."
Parker shook her head dejectedly.
Behaving as nonchalantly as he could, the aging psychiatrist added, "A nice long wedding reception would give you plenty of opportunity to speak with Mrs. Rourke. I’m sure she would be delighted to spend time with Catherine’s daughter."
Parker slumped into her chair in defeat. "Oh, alright! You make the arrangements. Just book me on whatever flight you use. But I won’t sit next to mush head during the trip! You keep him entertained!"
"Whatever you say, Miss Parker," Sydney agreed. He left the room quickly as he felt Miss Parker’s ire grow. She was extremely irritated. Jarod had always had the ability to get under Parker’s skin but her reaction to the innocuous invite seemed even more extreme than usual.
The wedding was in two weeks. Sydney had a feeling that Miss Parker would be rather difficult to work with during the interim.
--
Miss Parker stood in the back hallway of the church. Leaning against a doorway that led into a children’s play area, she gazed into the room, carefully watching Angelo as he stacked wooden blocks. Oblivious to the tuxedo he wore, Angelo sat cross-legged on the floor as he concentrated intently on his task. There was an impressive tower growing in front of the furry little man.
Dressed in a shimmering silver outfit barely long enough to be considered decent, Parker shifted from one foot to the other. The stiletto heels of her shoes, bought a week ago to match the new dress, added more than three inches to her height but weren’t made for a lot of standing around.
Parker thought briefly about sitting in one of the child sized chairs before quickly deciding against it. She looked fantastic and she knew it. The wedding and following reception would last well into the night. Parker wasn’t going to wrinkle the perfection of her attire before it was necessary.
She would rather chew on hot nails than admit it to Sydney, but Parker had gone to great lengths to look her best today. It had taken days of scouring the finest shops in New York before Parker had found the classic yet simple dress she wore. The thin spaghetti straps revealed flawless shoulders that curved gracefully up to her neck. She’d spent an inordinate amount of time on her hair this morning, finally deciding to pin it up in such a way that fine tendrils curled at her nape.
Parker looked absolutely stunning. When she’d met the rest of her group in the hotel lobby, the men waiting for her had been suitably impressed. Broots, who had also been invited much to Parker’s dismay, had been reduced to a stuttering idiot as usual. Sydney had nodded appreciatively. But it had been Angelo’s simple "Wow" that had brought a grin of satisfaction to Parker’s lips.
As if by unspoken agreement, none of The Centre alumni had brought along a guest, even though the invitations had each specifically referred to one. Broots had even left Debbie with her girlfriend for the weekend instead of bringing her along.
Now, as everyone stood around waiting for the ceremony to begin, Parker was taking her turn keeping an eye on Angelo. He was handling the crowds and the new environment with remarkable ease.
With a sigh, Parker shifted back to the other foot. She loathed admitting it, but so far the weekend really hadn’t sucked too badly at all.
The rehearsal dinner last evening had turned in to a back yard barbeque of sorts. Party lanterns and candles had been placed around dozens of picnic tables and folding chairs. Music had lilted through the air from a CD player somewhere. Jarod, fink that he was, had been the consummate host, mingling everywhere and making sure everyone had a good time.
The attempts of Parker and her little troop to confine themselves to their own little clique had been easily thwarted by the Pretender. He introduced his parents to the group, then abruptly left them to go in search of his fiancée.
Jarod’s parents had been very kind. After a few moments of awkwardness on her part, Parker was finally able to talk with Margaret Rourke for a few minutes about her mother. But, with so many guests to attend to, the older woman hadn’t been able to spend much time on the subject.
At one point during the evening, a thin little man by the name of Argyle had swooped in on Parker and asked her dance. By Parker’s best estimate, the guy must have been brain damaged because he just wasn’t picking up on her hints to get lost. And Parker wasn’t known for the subtlety of such suggestions.
Just when Parker was beginning to think she might have to hurt the little cretin, Jarod had appeared and rescued her. Or rescued him, depending on how you looked at the situation.
"Argyle," Jarod had warned in a throaty growl.
"Hey J-man," The smaller man said. "I wasn’t doing anything wrong. Just asking the pretty lady for a dance is all."
Jarod leaned in close. "Argyle," he said conspiratorially. "Remember the blonde in Philadelphia?"
The little man nodded fearfully.
"This one," Jarod said, jerking a thumb in Miss Parker’s direction. "Could kick her ass without breaking a nail."
Argyle got the message and slinked away to pester some other poor soul.
"Thanks," Parker said. "Is he a friend of yours?"
Jarod shrugged. "Yeah. A really good friend." When he saw Parker’s smirk he shrugged again. "Argyle kind of grows on you."
"Like slime on the bottom of a rock," Parker murmured.
They had shared a good laugh. Angelo had joined them, trailing a piece of string on the ground behind him. The three Centre offspring had spent the next twenty minutes sitting in the grass playing a game that Jarod called "witch’s broom."
Parker vaguely remembered something like it when she was very little. The string was tied into a big loop and intertwined among one player’s fingers. The object of the game was to transfer the string from one player’s hands to the next player’s hands without breaking the twisted design of the string around the fingers.
It had been a carefree few minutes that had brought back tender feelings of childhood camaraderie. Parker had enjoyed it immensely. The three of them were giggling like fools when Jarod’s fiancée came upon them.
The Pretender quickly introduced Parker and Angelo. Plastering a smile on her face, Parker shook the curly redhead’s hand.
"I’ve heard a lot about you, Zoë," Parker said with a grin that didn’t reach her eyes.
"So you’re Miss Parker," The girl said cautiously.
Parker huffed playfully. "Well, don’t believe everything Jarod tells you about me. I’m not always a bitch."
Zoë sighed. "Well, I wouldn’t know," she said. Turning to Jarod with a frown she added frostily, "He’s never mentioned you to me."
"Parker and I go way back," Jarod admitted softly. "There’s a lot of history between us."
"We spent time together at The Centre when we were children," Parker interjected.
The puzzled look Zoë flashed in Jarod’s direction said volumes. Parker knew immediately that Zoë had no clue what The Centre was or how it pertained to her betrothed.
A flash of anger rose in Miss Parker. How could this woman fully understand Jarod’s needs if she didn’t know about his life? Jarod’s experiences at The Centre were such an integral part of who he was and yet Zoë knew nothing of it. This woman would never recognize how incredible her husband was because she didn’t know what obstacles he had overcome to reach this point in his life. Parker almost felt sorry for the other girl.
Almost.
Truth be told, Parker found the other woman to be incredibly irritating. Zoë’s bouncing, airy attitude was just too perky for Miss Parker’s tastes. Within a matter of minutes, everything the little teeny-bopper said or did began to grate on Parker’s nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard.
Miss Parker had never been particularly adept at hiding her feelings of dislike. Out of respect for the setting, Parker tightly reigned in her desire to snarl at the girl when Zoë made a snide comment about Jarod’s secrets.
As Zoë drew Jarod away toward another group of guests, Sydney, who had approached while they were talking, commented, "She seems nice."
Parker made a disgusted sound.
Raising his eyebrows, Sydney said, "Don’t hide your opinion, Miss Parker. Tell us what you really think."
Crossing her arms angrily, Parker said, "She’s too flighty. I half expect her to start tripping merrily through the fields with a fairy’s wand."
Sydney smirked. "Perhaps Jarod is looking for a more lighthearted outlook on life."
"She may be a lot of fun for now." Parker frowned. "But I have to wonder if she’s afraid of the dark. Parts of Jarod’s life are very dark indeed."
"The Centre is no longer a threat," Sydney argued. "That shadow is behind them."
Parker glared furiously at the aging psychiatrist. "Not even Jarod can erase the marks The Centre left on him. He can’t pretend those scars away, Syd." She gazed thoughtfully in the direction the couple had gone. "I hope she can handle those demons when they come back to haunt him."
Parker had spent the rest of the evening in self-inflicted semi-isolation. Only Angelo and Ethan had been able to coax her into conversation. She’d gone back to the hotel early and gone to bed, refusing to examine her sudden despondency too closely.
Glancing at the delicate watch on her wrist, Parker noticed that the wedding was due to start in fifteen minutes. "Angelo," she called softly. "Put the blocks away now. We need to go find our seats so we can see Jarod’s wedding."
Angelo looked up at her with that empty gaze of his and said simply, "No."
Parker groaned inwardly. "Please, Angelo. We don’t want to miss the ceremony."
The shaggy-haired man shrugged. "Everybody will."
Turning her face to the ceiling in a silent plea for patience, Parker asked, "Everybody will, what? Angelo?"
Still stacking the blocks carefully he answered, "Everybody will miss the ceremony."
No sooner had the words fallen from Angelo’s lips than Parker heard a door slam from the other end of the hallway. Parker turned and saw Zoë, wearing blue jeans and a flowered shirt, standing in the corridor. A moment later, the door that had just slammed shut opened again and Jarod appeared, dressed to the nines in a black tuxedo and gray cummerbund.
"Zoë," Jarod said in exasperation.
Whirling around, the red-head cried softly, "Jarod, no!" She shook her head tearfully. "I can’t do this." Then, turning on her heel, Zoë dashed down the hallway passed Miss Parker toward the exit at the opposite end.
Stunned for a moment, Parker stared down the hall at Jarod. The Pretender looked dazed, as if someone had just kicked him in the head. A heartbeat later, Parker turned to Angelo and growled, "Sit! Stay!" She then took off after the fleeing bride.
Parker caught up to Zoë in the parking lot as the other girl rummaged through her bag for the keys to her car.
"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Miss Parker snarled.
"Leaving," the other girl sniffled.
"You can’t just abandon him," Parker said coldly.
Zoë glared. "I’m not abandoning anyone," she cried.
"It doesn’t seem that way to me," Parker hissed. Leaning against the car door to block Zoë’s escape, Parker said, "Look at him." She gestured across the parking lot toward the church.
Jarod was standing on the steps leading to the rear entrance. His head was tilted in that confused, intrigued manner that Parker had seen before. It was the same look Jarod would get on his face when someone made a reference to something he didn’t understand. Even from this distance, Parker could see the wheels turning in the Pretender’s head.
"Look at him," Parker said again, more insistently.
The two women gazed across the pavement at Jarod, causing a perplexed frown to crease his face. He stepped off the stairs toward them but Parker made a motion with her hand, indicating that he should stay put. He didn’t like being so far away. He couldn’t hear anything they were saying. But Jarod did as Parker instructed.
Parker sighed. Jarod looked fantastic in the perfectly fitted tux. The cut of the fabric accentuated his broad shoulders, angling down to his flat stomach. The piping along the sides of the slacks made his legs seem even longer. With his freshly shaved jaw and new haircut, the Pretender looked like something that had just stepped off the cover of a men’s fashion magazine.
"He is looking particularly delicious today," Zoë said with a sad smile.
Parker whirled on the girl. "How can you walk away from that?" she asked. "Not only is he somewhat attractive, but Jarod is also one of the nicest, most generous and caring individuals I’ve ever met," Parker said, her voice shaking with indignation. "He’ll do anything for those people lucky enough to be important to him. As his wife, Jarod will spend a lifetime doing everything in his power to make you feel like a queen."
"I don’t want that kind of devotion," Zoë snapped. "I can never be as perfect as he is. I could never live up to what he expects of me."
Parker laughed in a cold burst of derision. "Jarod is far from perfect. And he expects nothing from you but your love. If you walk away from that now, if you betray the trust he has placed in you, you’ll never get it back. Trust is very important to him."
"He’ll forgive me," Zoë said softly, almost to herself. "Jarod never stays angry for long."
Parker nodded. "Yes. He will forgive you. But Jarod won’t forget, ever. He won’t ever forget that you walked out on him."
Zoë yanked hard on the car door, trying to push Parker out of the way. "This is none of your damned business," she snarled.
"Jarod is my business, always has been," Parker hissed back. "And if you leave him like this, I will not allow you back into his life. I won’t run the risk of you hurting him again."
"Who the hell do you think you are?" Zoë cried. "You have no say in this."
Parker’s fury was like a tangible thing, boiling through her veins. "You’d be surprised," she growled in a low dangerous voice.
For a long moment, the two women simply stared at each other, stubborn rage flaring in their eyes.
Parker took a deep breath in a vain attempt to calm down. "He loves you," she said, forcing her tone into a gentler timbre. "You love him. Go marry him."
Zoë’s lower lip trembled. "I’m not sure," she whispered. "Jarod and I have had a lot of fun together but I’m not sure that I want to spend the rest of my life with him."
"Fine," Parker replied coldly. Stepping back, she pulled open the car door, holding it for the other girl like a chauffeur. "If you can’t appreciate the gift he’s given you, then you don’t deserve it."
Zoë glanced warily at Jarod’s distant form. He was still watching the women curiously.
As Zoë climbed behind the steering wheel, Parker said bluntly, "This is it, Zoë. You won’t get any second chances here." Straightening regally Parker added, "I won’t permit it."
The other girl shoved a pair of sunglasses on her face and turned menacingly as she fired the ignition. "Fuck you, Miss Parker," she said angrily. Slamming the door, Zoë gunned the engine as she peeled out of the lot and drove away.
Parker’s heels clicked in a sharp staccato as she crossed the asphalt to where Jarod stood. When she reached his side, the two stood and watched Zoë’s car disappear around a bend in the road.
After a moment, Jarod said softly, "Thanks."
Parker glared at him. "For what?" she ground out between clenched teeth.
Jarod shrugged. Undoing his bow tie, he said, "For trying. For not shooting her," he added with a small smile.
"I left my gun in Delaware," Parker growled dejectedly.
Jarod watched Parker’s reactions intently for a full minute. "You’re angry," He said finally.
Nearly shaking in her fury, Parker turned on the Pretender. "Hell yes, I’m angry! And you should be too!"
Jarod shrugged again. "Should I? I’ve never been dumped before. I’m not sure how I’m expected to behave. What should I do now?" He asked, innocently turning to Parker for advice.
Gazing sorrowfully into Jarod’s eyes, Parker could see the confusion swirling in those deep brown orbs. With a sigh Parker said, "First, someone needs to tell all those people that there will be no wedding today."
Jarod groaned. "Oh, lovely."
"I can get your father or Sydney. Either of them can do it. Under the circumstances, everyone will understand your reluctance to face such a crowd," Parker said. Anger roiled in her again as she saw the reluctant look cross Jarod’s face.
"No," Jarod said with a sigh. "I’ll do it."
Thanks to my beta reader, Bec-Bec. Commas are our friends!
Invitations Part 1
By Phenyx
-
Major and Mrs. Charles Rourke
Request the honor of your presence
at the marriage of
Miss Zoë Amelia Bolger
to their son
Mr. Jarod Michael Rourke
Saturday, June fourteenth
Two Thousand three
at three o’clock
Trinity Church
24 Enola Drive
Ellingsworth, Nebraska
-
Miss Parker stood at her office window, gazing sightlessly through the glass as she thoughtfully tapped the ivory placard against her chin. The invitation was of a high quality, with the lettering engraved in silver. The edges of the card were adorned with designs of bells, roses and doves intertwined. It was lovely.
The card had arrived in her office mail this afternoon, addressed to "Miss M. Parker and guest." When she had first seen it, Parker had laughed. But the more she stared at it, the more irritating it became.
A soft voice from across her office caused Parker to turn with a hiss.
"I see that you’ve received one too," Sydney observed, holding up a matching white card.
"He’s rubbing our noses in it," Parker growled. "He’s laughing at us."
Sydney sighed. "Perhaps Jarod is simply creating a life for himself, now that The Centre’s hold on him is gone."
"If so, " Parker groused, "Wonder-boy is in an awfully big hurry. Lyle was indicted barely three months ago for pity’s sake."
Sydney shrugged. "I’m sure he has known this young lady long enough to know what he’s doing."
Parker slumped into the leather office chair beside her desk. It was too much. So much had happened so fast. Mr. Parker’s sudden death nearly a year ago had left Raines in charge at The Centre. With that ghoul at the helm, it hadn’t taken long for the rest of the world to realize what Miss Parker had known for years: William Raines was a maniacal fiend.
Lyle, psychopath that he was, had dutifully served at Raines’ side. By the time the Triumvirate became aware of the insanity of this new leadership, it was too late. Lyle’s nocturnal hobbies had brought down the wrath of federal investigators.
The Centre’s slide into oblivion had been devastatingly rapid. When Raines dropped dead from a stroke four months ago, all hell had broken loose. The Triumvirate had abandoned the facility with blinding speed in a feeble attempt at self-preservation.
Parker, Sydney and Broots still came to work every day, but pursuing Jarod was no longer on the agenda. Hundreds of employees had to be released. The courts had ordered copies of thousands of documents. Accountants were brought in to scour the books. Inmates and residents had to be evaluated and relocated.
Mr. Parker’s attempts to keep Centre secrets from his adopted daughter had turned out to be her salvation. According to the records, Miss Parker knew nothing about what had been going on around her. She and her team had come through the investigations looking like idiots, but none of them had to face any charges.
Jarod’s name never came up in any of the investigative reports. As usual, he had slipped through the minefield of lawyers and detectives without being noticed.
Sydney heard from the rat on a somewhat regular basis. Jarod was living in some Podunk little town on the far side of nowhere. He’d reunited with mommy and daddy. Evidently, the little pain in the ass was now getting hitched.
Turning toward Sydney with a frown, Parker abruptly asked, "Why would he invite me?"
Sydney shrugged. "He considers you a friend, Miss Parker."
Parker scoffed, "It’s more probable that he is trying to pad his half of the guest list. "
"He’s invited Angelo as well," Sydney stated. "Perhaps Jarod just wants his childhood friends to celebrate this joy with him."
"Well, I’m not going," Parker groused.
"Jarod will be disappointed," Sydney said gently.
"Tough," She growled. With a sigh, Parker moaned, "I won’t know anyone! It’ll be at least two days of fatal boredom."
"I’ll be there, Miss Parker," Sydney offered. "And Angelo too."
Parker rolled her eyes. "Oh that helps."
"As the groom’s brother, I’m sure that Ethan will attend," Sydney suggested.
Parker sighed. She hadn’t seen her half-brother, Ethan, in ages.
Sydney suppressed a smirk. He could see Parker teetering on the edge of submission. "I look forward to talking with the Major again. And meeting Jarod’s mother will be an honor."
Parker shook her head dejectedly.
Behaving as nonchalantly as he could, the aging psychiatrist added, "A nice long wedding reception would give you plenty of opportunity to speak with Mrs. Rourke. I’m sure she would be delighted to spend time with Catherine’s daughter."
Parker slumped into her chair in defeat. "Oh, alright! You make the arrangements. Just book me on whatever flight you use. But I won’t sit next to mush head during the trip! You keep him entertained!"
"Whatever you say, Miss Parker," Sydney agreed. He left the room quickly as he felt Miss Parker’s ire grow. She was extremely irritated. Jarod had always had the ability to get under Parker’s skin but her reaction to the innocuous invite seemed even more extreme than usual.
The wedding was in two weeks. Sydney had a feeling that Miss Parker would be rather difficult to work with during the interim.
--
Miss Parker stood in the back hallway of the church. Leaning against a doorway that led into a children’s play area, she gazed into the room, carefully watching Angelo as he stacked wooden blocks. Oblivious to the tuxedo he wore, Angelo sat cross-legged on the floor as he concentrated intently on his task. There was an impressive tower growing in front of the furry little man.
Dressed in a shimmering silver outfit barely long enough to be considered decent, Parker shifted from one foot to the other. The stiletto heels of her shoes, bought a week ago to match the new dress, added more than three inches to her height but weren’t made for a lot of standing around.
Parker thought briefly about sitting in one of the child sized chairs before quickly deciding against it. She looked fantastic and she knew it. The wedding and following reception would last well into the night. Parker wasn’t going to wrinkle the perfection of her attire before it was necessary.
She would rather chew on hot nails than admit it to Sydney, but Parker had gone to great lengths to look her best today. It had taken days of scouring the finest shops in New York before Parker had found the classic yet simple dress she wore. The thin spaghetti straps revealed flawless shoulders that curved gracefully up to her neck. She’d spent an inordinate amount of time on her hair this morning, finally deciding to pin it up in such a way that fine tendrils curled at her nape.
Parker looked absolutely stunning. When she’d met the rest of her group in the hotel lobby, the men waiting for her had been suitably impressed. Broots, who had also been invited much to Parker’s dismay, had been reduced to a stuttering idiot as usual. Sydney had nodded appreciatively. But it had been Angelo’s simple "Wow" that had brought a grin of satisfaction to Parker’s lips.
As if by unspoken agreement, none of The Centre alumni had brought along a guest, even though the invitations had each specifically referred to one. Broots had even left Debbie with her girlfriend for the weekend instead of bringing her along.
Now, as everyone stood around waiting for the ceremony to begin, Parker was taking her turn keeping an eye on Angelo. He was handling the crowds and the new environment with remarkable ease.
With a sigh, Parker shifted back to the other foot. She loathed admitting it, but so far the weekend really hadn’t sucked too badly at all.
The rehearsal dinner last evening had turned in to a back yard barbeque of sorts. Party lanterns and candles had been placed around dozens of picnic tables and folding chairs. Music had lilted through the air from a CD player somewhere. Jarod, fink that he was, had been the consummate host, mingling everywhere and making sure everyone had a good time.
The attempts of Parker and her little troop to confine themselves to their own little clique had been easily thwarted by the Pretender. He introduced his parents to the group, then abruptly left them to go in search of his fiancée.
Jarod’s parents had been very kind. After a few moments of awkwardness on her part, Parker was finally able to talk with Margaret Rourke for a few minutes about her mother. But, with so many guests to attend to, the older woman hadn’t been able to spend much time on the subject.
At one point during the evening, a thin little man by the name of Argyle had swooped in on Parker and asked her dance. By Parker’s best estimate, the guy must have been brain damaged because he just wasn’t picking up on her hints to get lost. And Parker wasn’t known for the subtlety of such suggestions.
Just when Parker was beginning to think she might have to hurt the little cretin, Jarod had appeared and rescued her. Or rescued him, depending on how you looked at the situation.
"Argyle," Jarod had warned in a throaty growl.
"Hey J-man," The smaller man said. "I wasn’t doing anything wrong. Just asking the pretty lady for a dance is all."
Jarod leaned in close. "Argyle," he said conspiratorially. "Remember the blonde in Philadelphia?"
The little man nodded fearfully.
"This one," Jarod said, jerking a thumb in Miss Parker’s direction. "Could kick her ass without breaking a nail."
Argyle got the message and slinked away to pester some other poor soul.
"Thanks," Parker said. "Is he a friend of yours?"
Jarod shrugged. "Yeah. A really good friend." When he saw Parker’s smirk he shrugged again. "Argyle kind of grows on you."
"Like slime on the bottom of a rock," Parker murmured.
They had shared a good laugh. Angelo had joined them, trailing a piece of string on the ground behind him. The three Centre offspring had spent the next twenty minutes sitting in the grass playing a game that Jarod called "witch’s broom."
Parker vaguely remembered something like it when she was very little. The string was tied into a big loop and intertwined among one player’s fingers. The object of the game was to transfer the string from one player’s hands to the next player’s hands without breaking the twisted design of the string around the fingers.
It had been a carefree few minutes that had brought back tender feelings of childhood camaraderie. Parker had enjoyed it immensely. The three of them were giggling like fools when Jarod’s fiancée came upon them.
The Pretender quickly introduced Parker and Angelo. Plastering a smile on her face, Parker shook the curly redhead’s hand.
"I’ve heard a lot about you, Zoë," Parker said with a grin that didn’t reach her eyes.
"So you’re Miss Parker," The girl said cautiously.
Parker huffed playfully. "Well, don’t believe everything Jarod tells you about me. I’m not always a bitch."
Zoë sighed. "Well, I wouldn’t know," she said. Turning to Jarod with a frown she added frostily, "He’s never mentioned you to me."
"Parker and I go way back," Jarod admitted softly. "There’s a lot of history between us."
"We spent time together at The Centre when we were children," Parker interjected.
The puzzled look Zoë flashed in Jarod’s direction said volumes. Parker knew immediately that Zoë had no clue what The Centre was or how it pertained to her betrothed.
A flash of anger rose in Miss Parker. How could this woman fully understand Jarod’s needs if she didn’t know about his life? Jarod’s experiences at The Centre were such an integral part of who he was and yet Zoë knew nothing of it. This woman would never recognize how incredible her husband was because she didn’t know what obstacles he had overcome to reach this point in his life. Parker almost felt sorry for the other girl.
Almost.
Truth be told, Parker found the other woman to be incredibly irritating. Zoë’s bouncing, airy attitude was just too perky for Miss Parker’s tastes. Within a matter of minutes, everything the little teeny-bopper said or did began to grate on Parker’s nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard.
Miss Parker had never been particularly adept at hiding her feelings of dislike. Out of respect for the setting, Parker tightly reigned in her desire to snarl at the girl when Zoë made a snide comment about Jarod’s secrets.
As Zoë drew Jarod away toward another group of guests, Sydney, who had approached while they were talking, commented, "She seems nice."
Parker made a disgusted sound.
Raising his eyebrows, Sydney said, "Don’t hide your opinion, Miss Parker. Tell us what you really think."
Crossing her arms angrily, Parker said, "She’s too flighty. I half expect her to start tripping merrily through the fields with a fairy’s wand."
Sydney smirked. "Perhaps Jarod is looking for a more lighthearted outlook on life."
"She may be a lot of fun for now." Parker frowned. "But I have to wonder if she’s afraid of the dark. Parts of Jarod’s life are very dark indeed."
"The Centre is no longer a threat," Sydney argued. "That shadow is behind them."
Parker glared furiously at the aging psychiatrist. "Not even Jarod can erase the marks The Centre left on him. He can’t pretend those scars away, Syd." She gazed thoughtfully in the direction the couple had gone. "I hope she can handle those demons when they come back to haunt him."
Parker had spent the rest of the evening in self-inflicted semi-isolation. Only Angelo and Ethan had been able to coax her into conversation. She’d gone back to the hotel early and gone to bed, refusing to examine her sudden despondency too closely.
Glancing at the delicate watch on her wrist, Parker noticed that the wedding was due to start in fifteen minutes. "Angelo," she called softly. "Put the blocks away now. We need to go find our seats so we can see Jarod’s wedding."
Angelo looked up at her with that empty gaze of his and said simply, "No."
Parker groaned inwardly. "Please, Angelo. We don’t want to miss the ceremony."
The shaggy-haired man shrugged. "Everybody will."
Turning her face to the ceiling in a silent plea for patience, Parker asked, "Everybody will, what? Angelo?"
Still stacking the blocks carefully he answered, "Everybody will miss the ceremony."
No sooner had the words fallen from Angelo’s lips than Parker heard a door slam from the other end of the hallway. Parker turned and saw Zoë, wearing blue jeans and a flowered shirt, standing in the corridor. A moment later, the door that had just slammed shut opened again and Jarod appeared, dressed to the nines in a black tuxedo and gray cummerbund.
"Zoë," Jarod said in exasperation.
Whirling around, the red-head cried softly, "Jarod, no!" She shook her head tearfully. "I can’t do this." Then, turning on her heel, Zoë dashed down the hallway passed Miss Parker toward the exit at the opposite end.
Stunned for a moment, Parker stared down the hall at Jarod. The Pretender looked dazed, as if someone had just kicked him in the head. A heartbeat later, Parker turned to Angelo and growled, "Sit! Stay!" She then took off after the fleeing bride.
Parker caught up to Zoë in the parking lot as the other girl rummaged through her bag for the keys to her car.
"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Miss Parker snarled.
"Leaving," the other girl sniffled.
"You can’t just abandon him," Parker said coldly.
Zoë glared. "I’m not abandoning anyone," she cried.
"It doesn’t seem that way to me," Parker hissed. Leaning against the car door to block Zoë’s escape, Parker said, "Look at him." She gestured across the parking lot toward the church.
Jarod was standing on the steps leading to the rear entrance. His head was tilted in that confused, intrigued manner that Parker had seen before. It was the same look Jarod would get on his face when someone made a reference to something he didn’t understand. Even from this distance, Parker could see the wheels turning in the Pretender’s head.
"Look at him," Parker said again, more insistently.
The two women gazed across the pavement at Jarod, causing a perplexed frown to crease his face. He stepped off the stairs toward them but Parker made a motion with her hand, indicating that he should stay put. He didn’t like being so far away. He couldn’t hear anything they were saying. But Jarod did as Parker instructed.
Parker sighed. Jarod looked fantastic in the perfectly fitted tux. The cut of the fabric accentuated his broad shoulders, angling down to his flat stomach. The piping along the sides of the slacks made his legs seem even longer. With his freshly shaved jaw and new haircut, the Pretender looked like something that had just stepped off the cover of a men’s fashion magazine.
"He is looking particularly delicious today," Zoë said with a sad smile.
Parker whirled on the girl. "How can you walk away from that?" she asked. "Not only is he somewhat attractive, but Jarod is also one of the nicest, most generous and caring individuals I’ve ever met," Parker said, her voice shaking with indignation. "He’ll do anything for those people lucky enough to be important to him. As his wife, Jarod will spend a lifetime doing everything in his power to make you feel like a queen."
"I don’t want that kind of devotion," Zoë snapped. "I can never be as perfect as he is. I could never live up to what he expects of me."
Parker laughed in a cold burst of derision. "Jarod is far from perfect. And he expects nothing from you but your love. If you walk away from that now, if you betray the trust he has placed in you, you’ll never get it back. Trust is very important to him."
"He’ll forgive me," Zoë said softly, almost to herself. "Jarod never stays angry for long."
Parker nodded. "Yes. He will forgive you. But Jarod won’t forget, ever. He won’t ever forget that you walked out on him."
Zoë yanked hard on the car door, trying to push Parker out of the way. "This is none of your damned business," she snarled.
"Jarod is my business, always has been," Parker hissed back. "And if you leave him like this, I will not allow you back into his life. I won’t run the risk of you hurting him again."
"Who the hell do you think you are?" Zoë cried. "You have no say in this."
Parker’s fury was like a tangible thing, boiling through her veins. "You’d be surprised," she growled in a low dangerous voice.
For a long moment, the two women simply stared at each other, stubborn rage flaring in their eyes.
Parker took a deep breath in a vain attempt to calm down. "He loves you," she said, forcing her tone into a gentler timbre. "You love him. Go marry him."
Zoë’s lower lip trembled. "I’m not sure," she whispered. "Jarod and I have had a lot of fun together but I’m not sure that I want to spend the rest of my life with him."
"Fine," Parker replied coldly. Stepping back, she pulled open the car door, holding it for the other girl like a chauffeur. "If you can’t appreciate the gift he’s given you, then you don’t deserve it."
Zoë glanced warily at Jarod’s distant form. He was still watching the women curiously.
As Zoë climbed behind the steering wheel, Parker said bluntly, "This is it, Zoë. You won’t get any second chances here." Straightening regally Parker added, "I won’t permit it."
The other girl shoved a pair of sunglasses on her face and turned menacingly as she fired the ignition. "Fuck you, Miss Parker," she said angrily. Slamming the door, Zoë gunned the engine as she peeled out of the lot and drove away.
Parker’s heels clicked in a sharp staccato as she crossed the asphalt to where Jarod stood. When she reached his side, the two stood and watched Zoë’s car disappear around a bend in the road.
After a moment, Jarod said softly, "Thanks."
Parker glared at him. "For what?" she ground out between clenched teeth.
Jarod shrugged. Undoing his bow tie, he said, "For trying. For not shooting her," he added with a small smile.
"I left my gun in Delaware," Parker growled dejectedly.
Jarod watched Parker’s reactions intently for a full minute. "You’re angry," He said finally.
Nearly shaking in her fury, Parker turned on the Pretender. "Hell yes, I’m angry! And you should be too!"
Jarod shrugged again. "Should I? I’ve never been dumped before. I’m not sure how I’m expected to behave. What should I do now?" He asked, innocently turning to Parker for advice.
Gazing sorrowfully into Jarod’s eyes, Parker could see the confusion swirling in those deep brown orbs. With a sigh Parker said, "First, someone needs to tell all those people that there will be no wedding today."
Jarod groaned. "Oh, lovely."
"I can get your father or Sydney. Either of them can do it. Under the circumstances, everyone will understand your reluctance to face such a crowd," Parker said. Anger roiled in her again as she saw the reluctant look cross Jarod’s face.
"No," Jarod said with a sigh. "I’ll do it."
