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Disclaimer: See chapter 1 -( 09/14/03 )
Stumbling Toward Nirvana
By Phenyx Chapter 6
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Jarod stood thoughtfully on the corner, staring across the street at the brick church with its attached school. Maybe this was a bad idea. He should just go back to the little townhouse and wait in the driveway until someone came home. Prowling around on school grounds could get him into more trouble than he was willing to handle right now.
He wearily scrubbed one hand across his eyes. He was tired, and should probably get some sleep before attempting this. But Jarod knew full well that he'd get no sleep until he had completed his task.
It had taken a little over a week for Jarod to get this far. The simple picture he had found on the Internet ten days ago had been the beginning of a scavenger hunt-like journey across the Central United States. The trail, though more than three years old, had been alarmingly easy for Jarod to follow. The clues that had been left behind were astonishing in their simplicity yet distinctive enough that only Jarod would understand their meanings.
Upon arriving at the bank that had been advertised on the calendar in the picture, Jarod had asked for information about Ms. Parker. The teller had checked her computer for a Jarod Parker and revealed that a safety deposit box existed in his name. But Jarod had no key and was therefore denied access. Speaking to one of the managers, Jarod had conned his way into finding out how long it had been since anyone had used the box.
According to the card used for sign in, there had been only one entry for this box and that had been almost three years ago. Jarod had peeked at the card and found an address for the account owner as well as a small notation scribbled along the side.
"Find your present," it said simply.
Jarod had gone to the address and found a simple boarding house run by a lady by the name of Betty Hansen. Betty had remembered the woman in the photograph and had recognized Jarod's name. She gladly showed Jarod where the "sweet girl" had stayed for the two months she'd lived there. When she had arrived, the woman had been very pregnant. When she left, her son had been six weeks old.
Betty had given Jarod a tour of the house, including the worn but homey kitchen from the picture. Jarod stood in that kitchen and caressed the counter tops, imagining Parker standing in that very spot. If he closed his eyes, he imagined that he could almost smell her perfume.
Jarod found the next clue exactly where he had once told Parker that her father's gift had been hidden. In the antique roll top desk located in the room where Parker had stayed, there was an envelope taped to the back of the lower left hand drawer. He'd torn open the envelope and dumped a safety deposit box key into the palm of his hand.
What had followed had been a series of notes and symbols, each one significant only to Jarod. No one else would ever be able to interpret the signs because only Jarod and Parker knew what they meant. Mementos from his childhood drew Jarod along on his search, brightening his spirits with each new discovery.
He had thought that Miss Parker had forgotten such things. He had believed that he was alone in cherishing those moments in time. That Parker remembered them at all was a balm to his soul. That she knew how important they were to him meant even more.
Jarod had finally found a post office box in Wisconsin with his name on it. When he had opened box number 1019, a tumble of postcards had fallen into his lap. The postmarks indicated that a new card arrived every four or five months. Sorting them chronologically, Jarod had a detailed look of Parker's travels over time. Each card had a different return address and the same simple message.
"Wish you were here." The notes were unsigned.
Jarod had quickly located the newest of the postcards and driven for the next fifteen hours to get to this quiet town. It had been mid-morning when he had arrived at the address printed on the card. The little white duplex had been empty, though it obviously had current occupants.
Painfully aware of his stalker-like actions, Jarod had picked the locks on the door and slipped into the apartment. It was a generic place, decorated in the basic colors and white walls that were typical of furnished rentals. Jarod's heart twisted as he stood in the kitchen and stared at the multitude of crayon colored artwork plastered over the refrigerator door.
Many of the images were unrecognizable jumbles of color, but there was the unmistakable representation of an old-fashioned locomotive with smoke billowing from its stack. Another picture was at first glance a simple oval with four rays jutting from the bottom. Balanced on top was another oval attached to a slithering snake of a line. Jarod stared at it for a moment, transfixed. With trembling hands, Jarod tugged the drawing into his hands. He smiled as he traced the simple lines with one finger.
"That," he whispered to himself. "Is a cowboy."
It was suddenly so obvious to him. The squiggle of a rope and lasso, the wisp of a horse's tail and a brown smudge of a hat were all there, created by the awkward scrawls of a little boy. Jarod clutched the picture to his chest and closed his eyes, trying to imagine the child as he drew. With a sniff, Jarod put the precious artwork back where he'd found it and wandered through the apartment.
There were no pictures, much to Jarod's dismay. He wanted to see what the boy looked like. He needed to know. But aside from a few toys strewn about and a single tiny shoe beneath the coffee table, there were very few personal items to be found. Jarod made his way down the back hall to the single bedroom where he found two beds. One was neatly made while the other, bedecked with images of a furry red Muppet, was a tussled, mangled ball of sheets and blankets.
On an end table bedside the smaller bed, Jarod found a nightlight shaped like a teddy bear and a small silver picture frame. He gazed in wonder at the picture it held. Jarod's own face smiled up at him from under the glass. Jarod wondered if the child had begun to ask questions about his father or if Parker simply kept the photo here on principle.
As Jarod set the frame back in its place, a colored, half-sheet of paper caught his eye. Across the top of the paper were the words, "Progress Report". There were a series of check marks all under the category of "Achieves at expected levels", but it was the header that caught Jarod's attention. The name and address of the school were boldly displayed in one corner.
Jarod knew exactly where his son was at this moment. Parker was undoubtedly at work, so the boy would need to be looked after in some sort of daycare setting. This was the address of that daycare center.
Knowing full well that he should wait for Parker, Jarod had headed for the school none-the-less. He simply couldn't resist the urge to see the child.
So now Jarod stood on the corner watching the school building as he worked on his cover story. He couldn't just stand on the playground, staring blatantly at every little boy who went by. That would get him thrown in jail. Jarod needed to find a way to observe the children without raising suspicions. He needed the time to figure out which child was the one he was looking for.
Pushing a pair of glasses onto his nose, Jarod took a deep sigh and strode across the street toward the school office. Fifteen minutes later, he was inside the building getting a grand tour from the head mistress herself.
"I appreciate you taking time out of your day, Sister Agatha," Jarod purred in his most persuasive tone. Evidently not even old nuns could resist his charm when he really put forth the effort.
"Not a problem, Dr. Hawkins," the woman said. Her black habit was starched stiff so that it barely moved regardless of the excited way the older woman shook her head.
"My wife and I are looking at several possible places to relocate," Jarod went on with his story. "With the triplets, I'm sure you understand that much of our decision will be based upon the educational opportunities for them."
"As it should be Doctor," the nun agreed.
"We want our boys to be part of a community, a strong congregation," Jarod went on.
Bobbing her head Sister Agatha said, "I think you'll agree that our little school is like a big family. Children thrive in a loving environment and we do our best to provide that. In addition, we don't teach our children to pass a standardized test like they do at some public schools. We teach the children to learn, to enjoy learning and to strive toward learning."
The two stopped in front of a glass door as they peered in at a dozen or more students. These children were older, nine or ten years of age and they were all gathered around a large table and a microscope.
"These are our fifth graders," the sister explained. "From here they'll go to the junior high. How old are your triplets Dr. Hawkins?"
"Three." Jarod answered.
The sister's enthusiasm deflated slightly. "Normally we don't take children until they are four," she said.
"No exceptions?" Jarod pried.
"Well," Sister Agatha wrung her hands. "We do have one three-year-old enrolled right now. But he's quite mature for his age and his mother is actually one of the preschool teachers, so we allow it as part of her employment compensation."
Jarod fought to hide his jolt of surprise at that statement. Miss Parker, a nursery school teacher? His lips curled into an amused grin. This he had to see for himself.
"By the time we make our decision, move and get settled in, the boys will be old enough to enroll, Sister." Jarod lied smoothly.
"Oh good," the nun sighed happily. "Then let me show you our pre-K program." Leading Jarod down a different hallway she said, "For obvious reasons, the daycare aspect of the program makes this our largest group of children. We have two or three teachers in each classroom every day, as well as parents who work with the co-op." Stopping suddenly, the nun asked, "Would you or your wife be willing to help out two or three days a week?"
Jarod shrugged, trying hard to stay calm. "My days are quite busy with my practice and all. But my wife loves children."
"Excellent," Sister Agatha exclaimed. "Here is one of the three pre-K classrooms we have," she said, pointing through another glass door.
Jarod gazed into the room and saw a dozen small children sitting in a half circle at a plump old woman's feet. Evidently it was story time.
"Three classrooms?" Jarod asked in dismay. He needed to narrow his search down to one room. "Since the boys will be only barely old enough, would it be possible to have them in the same class as the three-year-old you mentioned?"
"I think we may be able to arrange something," the nun went on helpfully. "Ms. Miller's class is over here."
They stepped across the hall and looked into another room. Jarod felt his heart stop. As before, there were a handful of young children sitting on a brightly colored carpet gazing up in awe at their teacher as she read to them. Jarod was equally spellbound.
The woman sitting in the child sized chair bore a distinct physical similarity to the Miss Parker Jarod had once known. Though still quite slim, she had gained a few pounds. Just enough so that where there had once been sharp angles, she now had soft curves. Her hair was pulled back carelessly into a loose ponytail. Jarod doubted that she'd seen the inside of a salon in months. Her skirt was a long flowing cotton fabric and her blouse was a simple off-the-rack style. Jarod noticed that her shoes were flat sandals with no heel at all. It was an observation that made him wonder if this was the same Parker.
As Sister Agatha quietly opened the door she whispered, "The school day will be over shortly. Would you like to speak with Ms Miller for a few minutes?"
Jarod nodded his head, not daring to trust his voice.
He and Sister Agatha stood at the back of the room and listened as the story went on. Jarod was enthralled by the rich, warm tone of her voice as Parker narrated the tale of a boy named Max. She seemed to put all her heart and soul into the telling of the story even to the point of growling and snarling like the monsters in the book. Jarod nearly laughed out loud when young Max defeated the monsters with a glare and they made Max their king. As the story ended, Parker's smooth voice conveyed serenity and solace, letting her listeners know that all was right in the world.
Jarod had a gut wrenching need to run up to her and lay his head in Parker's lap. Until this very moment, he had not realized how much he had missed her voice.
"Did you like that story, children?" Her tone was light and airy. When one little blonde haired girl began talking excitedly, Parker/Ms. Miller leaned forward, genuinely interested in what the child had to say. She smiled at the girl. It was no shut-up-before-I-shoot-you smile or even a sad hopeless kind of smile. This was a radiant, happy smile full of love and acceptance.
"What a lovely thought, Kayla! Now, give me a hug," Parker said with a laugh. "Your mother is here and its time for you to go."
Jarod realized with a start that as the story had progressed, several other adults had entered the room. Rather than interrupt, the parents had lined up against the back wall, quietly waiting for their children.
A loud bell pealed, making Jarod flinch. What ensued was fifteen minutes of organized chaos as parents and children reunited after a long day.
Sister Agatha spoke over the din. "Ms. Miller teaches from six to three. The children who need extended daycare will now go to Miss Carpenter's classroom. We can keep children until six o'clock PM. Anything after 6:15 and there is an additional fee."
Jarod blinked at the nun. He was momentarily at a loss to understand what she was talking about before he remembered his cover story.
"That shouldn't be an issue," he stammered.
Nearly half the children were now gone and the rest were lined up beside the door, jackets and cloth book bags in their hands.
"Ms. Miller," the aged nun spoke up. "This is Dr. Hawkins. He is considering bring his family to our congregation. Would you be so kind as to talk to him about our program? I'll walk the children across the hall."
"Thank you, Sister." Parker smiled radiantly.
Jarod's gaze met Parker's and he stood speechless before her. Parker's gray eyes twinkled merrily as she looked back. Neither spoke until after the nun had led the train of children out of the room and the door closed behind them.
"You're late," she smirked.
"I," Jarod stuttered. "I only found the picture a few days ago." He shrugged. "I had no idea."
Parker's lips twitched with amusement. "You must be slipping, Pez-head."
Jarod nodded in uneasy agreement. "Must be." He stared at her in silence for a long moment before whispering, "You look fantastic, Parker."
Her smile grew. "I'm happy, Jarod."
Jarod nodded slowly. "You seem to have built a good life."
Parker stepped closer with a nod. Reaching out, she gently traced the white scar on Jarod's jaw. Her touch was so feather-soft that it sent shivers down Jarod's spine. "The only thing missing in my life, is you," she purred huskily.
She leaned toward Jarod and for one heart-stopping moment, Jarod thought he was going to be kissed but a small panic-stricken voice interrupted them.
"Momma!" a child cried. "Momma, I can't find New Hampshire. It's gone!"
Standing just a few feet away was a small boy. He had wavy brown hair that curled around his ears and large dark brown eyes that wavered with unshed tears. The boy was wearing a simple pair of denim blue overalls spotted with yellow paint. One shoelace was untied and flopped awkwardly as the child ran to his mother. Clutched to his chest was a wooden puzzle nearly as big as he was.
"I can't find it!" he cried again.
As the child held the puzzle out toward Parker for her inspection, Jarod could see the face of the design. It was a well-crafted puzzle of the United States. Each piece represented a state and each had a yellow plastic grip located approximately where the state capital should be.
"We'll find it, Charlie," Parker soothed as she crouched beside the little boy. "It's here somewhere."
Something in Jarod's gut twisted hard as he watched Parker caress the little boy's hair.
"Charlie?" Jarod croaked softly.
Parker smiled and scooping the little boy up in her arms she introduced Jarod to his son. "This is Charles Sydney Parker," she said with a grin. "I thought that Sydney Charles sounded better, but in this day and age, little boys named Sydney tend to get beaten up."
"Hello Charlie," Jarod said, his voice little more than a whisper.
"Hello," the child said. Suddenly shy, he buried his face in his mother's hair.
Parker chuckled softly, tickling the child's ribs. "Don't start acting coy, young man. I won't fall for it."
Charlie giggled obligingly. He looked at Jarod curiously and tilted his head in confusion. Jarod recognized the action as one of his own.
"I know you," Charlie blurted accusingly. "Momma has your picture." The child's speech still held just a trace of babyish pronunciation so that the word sounded like pitcher rather than picture.
"She does?" Jarod asked.
The boy nodded vigorously. "She said you would come someday," he said. "She promised."
"Really?" Jarod's head was spinning. This seemed so unreal, like a dream that had suddenly become reality.
As if remembering his upset from a moment ago, Charlie abruptly started to cry again, "New Hampshire! I need it to hold Vermont and Maine down or they'll get lost." He squirmed out of his mother's arms, miraculously keeping the puzzle in place. Stomping his little foot in frustration he moaned, "Then I'll lose all the little states until New York pops out too!"
Parker sighed patiently. "Let's see if we can find it."
Jarod watched for a moment as Parker took the boy by the hand and began to walk across the room. A huge grin began to spread across Jarod's face as he watched them search among the clutter on a small round table not far away.
Jarod joined them and slipping to his hands and knees, he started to look around on the floor beneath the table. He caught Parker smirking at him and he laughed out loud. When he noticed Charlie frowning in puzzlement Jarod said, "If we lose New York, the whole Eastern sea board will disappear. We can't have that now can we?"
Charlie blinked for a moment before crouching on his haunches beneath the table. In an exaggerated whisper the little boy said, "It's only a puzzle, you know."
Jarod laughed again. But when he saw the serious gaze from those large dark eyes, Jarod sobered quickly. Charlie seemed to look right through him. The boy's gaze was so intense. Jarod wondered briefly if this was normal behavior for a three and a half year old. He didn't know. Jarod had not known many small children in his lifetime.
"Here it is!" Parker exclaimed from beside the painting easels.
Charlie flopped onto the floor, landing on his butt with a thud that made Jarod flinch. Placing his puzzle between his spread legs, the child took the puzzle piece from his mother and slid it into place.
"Be a good boy for a minute while Mommy gets our things together, okay Charlie?" Parker said.
"Okay." The little boy chirped happily, his tears forgotten.
Jarod stayed where he was. Sprawled on the floor, with his head propped in one palm, Jarod had the perfect opportunity to study the boy.
"This funny one is Missouri," Charlie said holding the puzzle piece up for Jarod to see. "I was born in Missouri."
"Yes, I know," Jarod smiled.
Charlie's little tongue stuck out between his teeth as he concentrated on placing the Show Me state back in the puzzle. He held up another piece.
"This is Delaware," the boy explained, pointing. "It's too small to have it's own piece, so it holds hands with Maryland. Momma was born in Delaware."
"That is a fact," Jarod agreed.
Maryland/Delaware went back in its slot. "Where were you born?"
"Georgia," Jarod replied softly.
Charlie called across the room to his mother, "It is Georgia, Momma!"
Jarod glanced over his shoulder to see Parker watching tearfully as he interacted with his son for the first time. They smiled waveringly at each other for a moment before Jarod turned back to the little boy.
Charlie prattled on. "Momma thought maybe Georgia but she wasn't sure." The topic of discussion abruptly changed. "Have you been to lots of states? Momma has. She says you've been lots of places too. Have you been lots of places?"
"Yes," Jarod said.
"I was on a airplane once," Charlie said. "When we came to live here, I rode in an airplane. It was a long time ago when I was little but I can remember."
Jarod grinned. He happened to know that Parker had come here with her son less than six months ago.
"Did you ever ride in a plane?" Charlie asked.
Jarod nodded. "Sometimes I even fly the plane myself." He said.
Charlie's confused look came back for a moment causing Jarod to rephrase the comment. "Sometimes I drive the plane."
"Really?" the little boy's eyes grew wide with astonishment. "Wow."
"It's time to go Charlie, put your puzzle in your book bag now," Parker said softly as though she hated to interrupt them.
" 'Kay," the boy said. Hopping from his seat he dashed across the room with his puzzle against his chest. Jarod watched as Charlie pulled a canvas bag from a cubbyhole and slid his puzzle into the bag with an ease born of repetition.
Jarod sat up, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Charlie swung the handles of his tote over one shoulder and came running back toward the center of the room. The boy stopped abruptly about half way and frowned at his errant shoelace as though he had only just noticed it.
Stomping his foot on the floor in front of Jarod, Charlie said demandingly, "Tie my shoe."
Parker gasped, "Charlie! What do you say when you want help?"
Charlie glanced at his mother in chagrin.
Parker crossed her arms and said sternly, "Say the magic word young man."
Charlie turned back to Jarod and said, "Tie my shoe, NOW."
Jarod burst into delighted laughter. Reaching out he grabbed the little boy and swung the squealing child into his lap. Jarod was laughing so hard he could barely breath as he obediently tied Charlie's shoe. Wrapping the child in a huge embrace Jarod sat on the floor and rocked the boy back and forth while he chortled with amusement.
Parker was trying hard not to snicker as she scolded the boy. "Charlie, the magic word is 'Please'."
Twisting his head so he could look up at his father, Charlie asked, "Is it really?"
Jarod huffed and wiped a tear of laughter from one eye. "I don't know, Charlie. NOW always seemed to work for your mom." Jarod dissolved into another fit of chuckling when Parker glared angrily at him.
Charlie glanced uncomprehendingly from one adult to the other. He didn't quite understand what was so funny. But that didn't matter. The little boy started to smile anyway. Pressed close to his daddy's chest the way he was now, Charlie could feel the big man's laughter vibrating through his own small body. It tickled him inside to know that he had made his father so happy.
A moment later, Charlie's giggles joined Jarod's and the two of them laughed like loons until they both had hiccoughs and Parker was forced to rescue them with cold drinks of water.
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Stumbling Toward Nirvana
By Phenyx Chapter 6
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Jarod stood thoughtfully on the corner, staring across the street at the brick church with its attached school. Maybe this was a bad idea. He should just go back to the little townhouse and wait in the driveway until someone came home. Prowling around on school grounds could get him into more trouble than he was willing to handle right now.
He wearily scrubbed one hand across his eyes. He was tired, and should probably get some sleep before attempting this. But Jarod knew full well that he'd get no sleep until he had completed his task.
It had taken a little over a week for Jarod to get this far. The simple picture he had found on the Internet ten days ago had been the beginning of a scavenger hunt-like journey across the Central United States. The trail, though more than three years old, had been alarmingly easy for Jarod to follow. The clues that had been left behind were astonishing in their simplicity yet distinctive enough that only Jarod would understand their meanings.
Upon arriving at the bank that had been advertised on the calendar in the picture, Jarod had asked for information about Ms. Parker. The teller had checked her computer for a Jarod Parker and revealed that a safety deposit box existed in his name. But Jarod had no key and was therefore denied access. Speaking to one of the managers, Jarod had conned his way into finding out how long it had been since anyone had used the box.
According to the card used for sign in, there had been only one entry for this box and that had been almost three years ago. Jarod had peeked at the card and found an address for the account owner as well as a small notation scribbled along the side.
"Find your present," it said simply.
Jarod had gone to the address and found a simple boarding house run by a lady by the name of Betty Hansen. Betty had remembered the woman in the photograph and had recognized Jarod's name. She gladly showed Jarod where the "sweet girl" had stayed for the two months she'd lived there. When she had arrived, the woman had been very pregnant. When she left, her son had been six weeks old.
Betty had given Jarod a tour of the house, including the worn but homey kitchen from the picture. Jarod stood in that kitchen and caressed the counter tops, imagining Parker standing in that very spot. If he closed his eyes, he imagined that he could almost smell her perfume.
Jarod found the next clue exactly where he had once told Parker that her father's gift had been hidden. In the antique roll top desk located in the room where Parker had stayed, there was an envelope taped to the back of the lower left hand drawer. He'd torn open the envelope and dumped a safety deposit box key into the palm of his hand.
What had followed had been a series of notes and symbols, each one significant only to Jarod. No one else would ever be able to interpret the signs because only Jarod and Parker knew what they meant. Mementos from his childhood drew Jarod along on his search, brightening his spirits with each new discovery.
He had thought that Miss Parker had forgotten such things. He had believed that he was alone in cherishing those moments in time. That Parker remembered them at all was a balm to his soul. That she knew how important they were to him meant even more.
Jarod had finally found a post office box in Wisconsin with his name on it. When he had opened box number 1019, a tumble of postcards had fallen into his lap. The postmarks indicated that a new card arrived every four or five months. Sorting them chronologically, Jarod had a detailed look of Parker's travels over time. Each card had a different return address and the same simple message.
"Wish you were here." The notes were unsigned.
Jarod had quickly located the newest of the postcards and driven for the next fifteen hours to get to this quiet town. It had been mid-morning when he had arrived at the address printed on the card. The little white duplex had been empty, though it obviously had current occupants.
Painfully aware of his stalker-like actions, Jarod had picked the locks on the door and slipped into the apartment. It was a generic place, decorated in the basic colors and white walls that were typical of furnished rentals. Jarod's heart twisted as he stood in the kitchen and stared at the multitude of crayon colored artwork plastered over the refrigerator door.
Many of the images were unrecognizable jumbles of color, but there was the unmistakable representation of an old-fashioned locomotive with smoke billowing from its stack. Another picture was at first glance a simple oval with four rays jutting from the bottom. Balanced on top was another oval attached to a slithering snake of a line. Jarod stared at it for a moment, transfixed. With trembling hands, Jarod tugged the drawing into his hands. He smiled as he traced the simple lines with one finger.
"That," he whispered to himself. "Is a cowboy."
It was suddenly so obvious to him. The squiggle of a rope and lasso, the wisp of a horse's tail and a brown smudge of a hat were all there, created by the awkward scrawls of a little boy. Jarod clutched the picture to his chest and closed his eyes, trying to imagine the child as he drew. With a sniff, Jarod put the precious artwork back where he'd found it and wandered through the apartment.
There were no pictures, much to Jarod's dismay. He wanted to see what the boy looked like. He needed to know. But aside from a few toys strewn about and a single tiny shoe beneath the coffee table, there were very few personal items to be found. Jarod made his way down the back hall to the single bedroom where he found two beds. One was neatly made while the other, bedecked with images of a furry red Muppet, was a tussled, mangled ball of sheets and blankets.
On an end table bedside the smaller bed, Jarod found a nightlight shaped like a teddy bear and a small silver picture frame. He gazed in wonder at the picture it held. Jarod's own face smiled up at him from under the glass. Jarod wondered if the child had begun to ask questions about his father or if Parker simply kept the photo here on principle.
As Jarod set the frame back in its place, a colored, half-sheet of paper caught his eye. Across the top of the paper were the words, "Progress Report". There were a series of check marks all under the category of "Achieves at expected levels", but it was the header that caught Jarod's attention. The name and address of the school were boldly displayed in one corner.
Jarod knew exactly where his son was at this moment. Parker was undoubtedly at work, so the boy would need to be looked after in some sort of daycare setting. This was the address of that daycare center.
Knowing full well that he should wait for Parker, Jarod had headed for the school none-the-less. He simply couldn't resist the urge to see the child.
So now Jarod stood on the corner watching the school building as he worked on his cover story. He couldn't just stand on the playground, staring blatantly at every little boy who went by. That would get him thrown in jail. Jarod needed to find a way to observe the children without raising suspicions. He needed the time to figure out which child was the one he was looking for.
Pushing a pair of glasses onto his nose, Jarod took a deep sigh and strode across the street toward the school office. Fifteen minutes later, he was inside the building getting a grand tour from the head mistress herself.
"I appreciate you taking time out of your day, Sister Agatha," Jarod purred in his most persuasive tone. Evidently not even old nuns could resist his charm when he really put forth the effort.
"Not a problem, Dr. Hawkins," the woman said. Her black habit was starched stiff so that it barely moved regardless of the excited way the older woman shook her head.
"My wife and I are looking at several possible places to relocate," Jarod went on with his story. "With the triplets, I'm sure you understand that much of our decision will be based upon the educational opportunities for them."
"As it should be Doctor," the nun agreed.
"We want our boys to be part of a community, a strong congregation," Jarod went on.
Bobbing her head Sister Agatha said, "I think you'll agree that our little school is like a big family. Children thrive in a loving environment and we do our best to provide that. In addition, we don't teach our children to pass a standardized test like they do at some public schools. We teach the children to learn, to enjoy learning and to strive toward learning."
The two stopped in front of a glass door as they peered in at a dozen or more students. These children were older, nine or ten years of age and they were all gathered around a large table and a microscope.
"These are our fifth graders," the sister explained. "From here they'll go to the junior high. How old are your triplets Dr. Hawkins?"
"Three." Jarod answered.
The sister's enthusiasm deflated slightly. "Normally we don't take children until they are four," she said.
"No exceptions?" Jarod pried.
"Well," Sister Agatha wrung her hands. "We do have one three-year-old enrolled right now. But he's quite mature for his age and his mother is actually one of the preschool teachers, so we allow it as part of her employment compensation."
Jarod fought to hide his jolt of surprise at that statement. Miss Parker, a nursery school teacher? His lips curled into an amused grin. This he had to see for himself.
"By the time we make our decision, move and get settled in, the boys will be old enough to enroll, Sister." Jarod lied smoothly.
"Oh good," the nun sighed happily. "Then let me show you our pre-K program." Leading Jarod down a different hallway she said, "For obvious reasons, the daycare aspect of the program makes this our largest group of children. We have two or three teachers in each classroom every day, as well as parents who work with the co-op." Stopping suddenly, the nun asked, "Would you or your wife be willing to help out two or three days a week?"
Jarod shrugged, trying hard to stay calm. "My days are quite busy with my practice and all. But my wife loves children."
"Excellent," Sister Agatha exclaimed. "Here is one of the three pre-K classrooms we have," she said, pointing through another glass door.
Jarod gazed into the room and saw a dozen small children sitting in a half circle at a plump old woman's feet. Evidently it was story time.
"Three classrooms?" Jarod asked in dismay. He needed to narrow his search down to one room. "Since the boys will be only barely old enough, would it be possible to have them in the same class as the three-year-old you mentioned?"
"I think we may be able to arrange something," the nun went on helpfully. "Ms. Miller's class is over here."
They stepped across the hall and looked into another room. Jarod felt his heart stop. As before, there were a handful of young children sitting on a brightly colored carpet gazing up in awe at their teacher as she read to them. Jarod was equally spellbound.
The woman sitting in the child sized chair bore a distinct physical similarity to the Miss Parker Jarod had once known. Though still quite slim, she had gained a few pounds. Just enough so that where there had once been sharp angles, she now had soft curves. Her hair was pulled back carelessly into a loose ponytail. Jarod doubted that she'd seen the inside of a salon in months. Her skirt was a long flowing cotton fabric and her blouse was a simple off-the-rack style. Jarod noticed that her shoes were flat sandals with no heel at all. It was an observation that made him wonder if this was the same Parker.
As Sister Agatha quietly opened the door she whispered, "The school day will be over shortly. Would you like to speak with Ms Miller for a few minutes?"
Jarod nodded his head, not daring to trust his voice.
He and Sister Agatha stood at the back of the room and listened as the story went on. Jarod was enthralled by the rich, warm tone of her voice as Parker narrated the tale of a boy named Max. She seemed to put all her heart and soul into the telling of the story even to the point of growling and snarling like the monsters in the book. Jarod nearly laughed out loud when young Max defeated the monsters with a glare and they made Max their king. As the story ended, Parker's smooth voice conveyed serenity and solace, letting her listeners know that all was right in the world.
Jarod had a gut wrenching need to run up to her and lay his head in Parker's lap. Until this very moment, he had not realized how much he had missed her voice.
"Did you like that story, children?" Her tone was light and airy. When one little blonde haired girl began talking excitedly, Parker/Ms. Miller leaned forward, genuinely interested in what the child had to say. She smiled at the girl. It was no shut-up-before-I-shoot-you smile or even a sad hopeless kind of smile. This was a radiant, happy smile full of love and acceptance.
"What a lovely thought, Kayla! Now, give me a hug," Parker said with a laugh. "Your mother is here and its time for you to go."
Jarod realized with a start that as the story had progressed, several other adults had entered the room. Rather than interrupt, the parents had lined up against the back wall, quietly waiting for their children.
A loud bell pealed, making Jarod flinch. What ensued was fifteen minutes of organized chaos as parents and children reunited after a long day.
Sister Agatha spoke over the din. "Ms. Miller teaches from six to three. The children who need extended daycare will now go to Miss Carpenter's classroom. We can keep children until six o'clock PM. Anything after 6:15 and there is an additional fee."
Jarod blinked at the nun. He was momentarily at a loss to understand what she was talking about before he remembered his cover story.
"That shouldn't be an issue," he stammered.
Nearly half the children were now gone and the rest were lined up beside the door, jackets and cloth book bags in their hands.
"Ms. Miller," the aged nun spoke up. "This is Dr. Hawkins. He is considering bring his family to our congregation. Would you be so kind as to talk to him about our program? I'll walk the children across the hall."
"Thank you, Sister." Parker smiled radiantly.
Jarod's gaze met Parker's and he stood speechless before her. Parker's gray eyes twinkled merrily as she looked back. Neither spoke until after the nun had led the train of children out of the room and the door closed behind them.
"You're late," she smirked.
"I," Jarod stuttered. "I only found the picture a few days ago." He shrugged. "I had no idea."
Parker's lips twitched with amusement. "You must be slipping, Pez-head."
Jarod nodded in uneasy agreement. "Must be." He stared at her in silence for a long moment before whispering, "You look fantastic, Parker."
Her smile grew. "I'm happy, Jarod."
Jarod nodded slowly. "You seem to have built a good life."
Parker stepped closer with a nod. Reaching out, she gently traced the white scar on Jarod's jaw. Her touch was so feather-soft that it sent shivers down Jarod's spine. "The only thing missing in my life, is you," she purred huskily.
She leaned toward Jarod and for one heart-stopping moment, Jarod thought he was going to be kissed but a small panic-stricken voice interrupted them.
"Momma!" a child cried. "Momma, I can't find New Hampshire. It's gone!"
Standing just a few feet away was a small boy. He had wavy brown hair that curled around his ears and large dark brown eyes that wavered with unshed tears. The boy was wearing a simple pair of denim blue overalls spotted with yellow paint. One shoelace was untied and flopped awkwardly as the child ran to his mother. Clutched to his chest was a wooden puzzle nearly as big as he was.
"I can't find it!" he cried again.
As the child held the puzzle out toward Parker for her inspection, Jarod could see the face of the design. It was a well-crafted puzzle of the United States. Each piece represented a state and each had a yellow plastic grip located approximately where the state capital should be.
"We'll find it, Charlie," Parker soothed as she crouched beside the little boy. "It's here somewhere."
Something in Jarod's gut twisted hard as he watched Parker caress the little boy's hair.
"Charlie?" Jarod croaked softly.
Parker smiled and scooping the little boy up in her arms she introduced Jarod to his son. "This is Charles Sydney Parker," she said with a grin. "I thought that Sydney Charles sounded better, but in this day and age, little boys named Sydney tend to get beaten up."
"Hello Charlie," Jarod said, his voice little more than a whisper.
"Hello," the child said. Suddenly shy, he buried his face in his mother's hair.
Parker chuckled softly, tickling the child's ribs. "Don't start acting coy, young man. I won't fall for it."
Charlie giggled obligingly. He looked at Jarod curiously and tilted his head in confusion. Jarod recognized the action as one of his own.
"I know you," Charlie blurted accusingly. "Momma has your picture." The child's speech still held just a trace of babyish pronunciation so that the word sounded like pitcher rather than picture.
"She does?" Jarod asked.
The boy nodded vigorously. "She said you would come someday," he said. "She promised."
"Really?" Jarod's head was spinning. This seemed so unreal, like a dream that had suddenly become reality.
As if remembering his upset from a moment ago, Charlie abruptly started to cry again, "New Hampshire! I need it to hold Vermont and Maine down or they'll get lost." He squirmed out of his mother's arms, miraculously keeping the puzzle in place. Stomping his little foot in frustration he moaned, "Then I'll lose all the little states until New York pops out too!"
Parker sighed patiently. "Let's see if we can find it."
Jarod watched for a moment as Parker took the boy by the hand and began to walk across the room. A huge grin began to spread across Jarod's face as he watched them search among the clutter on a small round table not far away.
Jarod joined them and slipping to his hands and knees, he started to look around on the floor beneath the table. He caught Parker smirking at him and he laughed out loud. When he noticed Charlie frowning in puzzlement Jarod said, "If we lose New York, the whole Eastern sea board will disappear. We can't have that now can we?"
Charlie blinked for a moment before crouching on his haunches beneath the table. In an exaggerated whisper the little boy said, "It's only a puzzle, you know."
Jarod laughed again. But when he saw the serious gaze from those large dark eyes, Jarod sobered quickly. Charlie seemed to look right through him. The boy's gaze was so intense. Jarod wondered briefly if this was normal behavior for a three and a half year old. He didn't know. Jarod had not known many small children in his lifetime.
"Here it is!" Parker exclaimed from beside the painting easels.
Charlie flopped onto the floor, landing on his butt with a thud that made Jarod flinch. Placing his puzzle between his spread legs, the child took the puzzle piece from his mother and slid it into place.
"Be a good boy for a minute while Mommy gets our things together, okay Charlie?" Parker said.
"Okay." The little boy chirped happily, his tears forgotten.
Jarod stayed where he was. Sprawled on the floor, with his head propped in one palm, Jarod had the perfect opportunity to study the boy.
"This funny one is Missouri," Charlie said holding the puzzle piece up for Jarod to see. "I was born in Missouri."
"Yes, I know," Jarod smiled.
Charlie's little tongue stuck out between his teeth as he concentrated on placing the Show Me state back in the puzzle. He held up another piece.
"This is Delaware," the boy explained, pointing. "It's too small to have it's own piece, so it holds hands with Maryland. Momma was born in Delaware."
"That is a fact," Jarod agreed.
Maryland/Delaware went back in its slot. "Where were you born?"
"Georgia," Jarod replied softly.
Charlie called across the room to his mother, "It is Georgia, Momma!"
Jarod glanced over his shoulder to see Parker watching tearfully as he interacted with his son for the first time. They smiled waveringly at each other for a moment before Jarod turned back to the little boy.
Charlie prattled on. "Momma thought maybe Georgia but she wasn't sure." The topic of discussion abruptly changed. "Have you been to lots of states? Momma has. She says you've been lots of places too. Have you been lots of places?"
"Yes," Jarod said.
"I was on a airplane once," Charlie said. "When we came to live here, I rode in an airplane. It was a long time ago when I was little but I can remember."
Jarod grinned. He happened to know that Parker had come here with her son less than six months ago.
"Did you ever ride in a plane?" Charlie asked.
Jarod nodded. "Sometimes I even fly the plane myself." He said.
Charlie's confused look came back for a moment causing Jarod to rephrase the comment. "Sometimes I drive the plane."
"Really?" the little boy's eyes grew wide with astonishment. "Wow."
"It's time to go Charlie, put your puzzle in your book bag now," Parker said softly as though she hated to interrupt them.
" 'Kay," the boy said. Hopping from his seat he dashed across the room with his puzzle against his chest. Jarod watched as Charlie pulled a canvas bag from a cubbyhole and slid his puzzle into the bag with an ease born of repetition.
Jarod sat up, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Charlie swung the handles of his tote over one shoulder and came running back toward the center of the room. The boy stopped abruptly about half way and frowned at his errant shoelace as though he had only just noticed it.
Stomping his foot on the floor in front of Jarod, Charlie said demandingly, "Tie my shoe."
Parker gasped, "Charlie! What do you say when you want help?"
Charlie glanced at his mother in chagrin.
Parker crossed her arms and said sternly, "Say the magic word young man."
Charlie turned back to Jarod and said, "Tie my shoe, NOW."
Jarod burst into delighted laughter. Reaching out he grabbed the little boy and swung the squealing child into his lap. Jarod was laughing so hard he could barely breath as he obediently tied Charlie's shoe. Wrapping the child in a huge embrace Jarod sat on the floor and rocked the boy back and forth while he chortled with amusement.
Parker was trying hard not to snicker as she scolded the boy. "Charlie, the magic word is 'Please'."
Twisting his head so he could look up at his father, Charlie asked, "Is it really?"
Jarod huffed and wiped a tear of laughter from one eye. "I don't know, Charlie. NOW always seemed to work for your mom." Jarod dissolved into another fit of chuckling when Parker glared angrily at him.
Charlie glanced uncomprehendingly from one adult to the other. He didn't quite understand what was so funny. But that didn't matter. The little boy started to smile anyway. Pressed close to his daddy's chest the way he was now, Charlie could feel the big man's laughter vibrating through his own small body. It tickled him inside to know that he had made his father so happy.
A moment later, Charlie's giggles joined Jarod's and the two of them laughed like loons until they both had hiccoughs and Parker was forced to rescue them with cold drinks of water.
-
