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Disclaimer: See chapter 1 -( 09/20/03 )
Stumbling Toward Nirvana
By Phenyx Chapter 7
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". started singing it not knowing what it was, " Charlie's lilting voice sang. "And we'll go on singing it forever just because." The little boy was safely strapped into his car seat in back, his head bobbing back and forth and his feet swinging enthusiastically as he sang.
Jarod sat in the front passenger seat with his back against the door so that he could watch the child. Parker drove her old but sturdy Honda hatchback.
As the car eased to a halt at an intersection, Charlie's song abruptly ended. "S-T-O-P." He spelled. "That spells stop."
"Yes, sweetheart," Parker smiled.
"G-O, spells go," the boy went on as though he was imparting sacred information. "I can spell McDonald's!" he added excitedly. "M-C-D-O-N-A-L-D- S, McDonald's."
Jarod grinned when he saw Parker rolling her eyes dramatically.
"Very good Charlie," Jarod smirked.
The little boy grabbed the cushioned brace in front of him and leaned forward. Charlie's dark eyes shined brightly as he said, "I can spell french fries, too! F-R-E-N-C-H-F-R-Y-S."
"Close enough," Jarod agreed.
"I like french fries," Charlie volunteered. "Do you like french fries, Daddy?" he asked with grim seriousness.
Jarod blinked in startled wonder when he realized that the boy was referring to him. "Yes," Jarod replied slowly. "Yes I do."
Charlie's lips broke into a huge delighted grin. "Momma! Daddy likes french fries! We should buy some for dinner."
"Not tonight, Charlie," Parker said gently. "You had french fries yesterday."
A look of wounded dismay brought a frown to the boy's little face. "But Daddy wasn't here yesterday. He didn't get any."
"Not tonight," Parker repeated.
A soft pink lower lip began to tremble and large dark eyes filled with tears. "But Daddy wants french fries, don't you Daddy?"
"I said 'no'," Parker reiterated more firmly.
Jarod glanced frantically from the woman beside him to the boy in back. Charlie seemed about to burst into tears and Jarod felt a desperate need to make the boy smile again.
"My treat, Parker," Jarod offered. "A few fried potatoes two nights in a row won't hurt him."
Parker smiled sadly, reached out and took one of Jarod's hands in her own. "I know that you want to give him everything right now, Jarod. I know how desperate you are to make up time with him," she gave Jarod's hand a slight squeeze. "But you can't give in to him once you've said 'no'. If you do, he'll be impossible to handle for days. Don't let him manipulate you."
Jarod frowned and glanced back at his son. Tussled hair fell in unruly locks across the boy's forehead and Charlie's large brown eyes shimmered with unshed tears. The toddler looked so forlorn and wounded that it made Jarod's heart ache.
"He doesn't have a scheming bone in his body," Jarod whispered tenderly.
Parker's joyful laughter filled the car. "Don't let him fool you. The little con-artist is his father's son," Parker's smile of joy filled Jarod with amazement. "Besides, we are having spaghetti when we get home."
"With meatballs?" Charlie asked tremulously.
"Yes," Parker grinned again. "With meatballs."
"YEA!" Charlie suddenly crowed kicking his feet excitedly. "It is the song that never ends," he began singing as though he had never paused. Smiling happily and bobbing his head with the tune again, Charlie stared out the window as though his brief distress had never existed.
Jarod gazed at Charlie and then glanced at Parker in astonishment. "He WAS trying to manipulate me," he whispered in dismay.
"He's three and a half years old," Parker smiled indulgently. "A very bright three and a half years old. It's very normal behavior for a child his age to begin testing boundaries."
"Does he do this type of thing often?" Jarod asked with concern.
Parker glanced lovingly at the reflection of her son in the rearview mirror. "He isn't purposely being malicious," she explained. "But Charlie has learned that he can sometimes have things his way if he can make me feel guilty about it." Parker paused for a moment then added, "It is very much the same way his father used to coerce me."
At that point, the little car pulled into the driveway in front of the townhouse that Jarod had visited earlier in the day. Jarod stood by and watched her movements as Parker got out of the vehicle and tipped her seat forward to unbuckle her little boy. Lifting Charlie out of his seat, Parker gave him a warm embrace and kissed the boy's forehead before setting him gently on the sidewalk.
No sooner had Charlie's feet hit the pavement than he turned to the adults and announced, "I'm going to bounce." He then proceeded to hop up and down on both feet.
Parker smiled at the look of total confusion on Jarod's face. With a contented chuckle she said to her son, "Bounce in the general direction of the front door, please."
"'Kay," Charlie said obediently.
As Parker and Jarod strolled up the walk, Charlie bounced happily at his mother's side.
"Bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce" Charlie sang. "Bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce."
Jarod grinned broadly as he quickly recognized the tune to which the child was chanting. Charlie had changed the words yet the familiar melody rang through Jarod's head.
"Cree craw toad's foot," Jarod sang. "Geese walk barefoot."
Charlie stopped abruptly and froze in place. Gazing up at Jarod with wide awestruck eyes, Charlie seemed frightened for a moment. Jarod halted as well and for a long heartbeat in time, the two stared at each other. Then Charlie suddenly broke into peals of laughter and began literally running circles around his parents.
Jarod looked at Parker and smiled in wonder. "He seems to have a great deal of energy."
"He's a bit excited," Parker snickered. "But this is nothing. You should see him after a bowl of ice cream and half a glass of cola."
At Jarod's confused frown, Parker explained, "Take a slightly hyperactive little boy, add sugar and caffeine, and the result is a lovable little bundle of very destructive energy. The chaos theory in action."
Jarod's eyes followed Charlie's progress as he ran around and around. "It must be difficult keeping up with him on your own," Jarod said softly.
Parker placed one hand gently on Jarod's arm. "He's the light of my life. I wouldn't trade one moment with him for anything." She shrugged. "The trick is to keep him occupied. For the most part, he's a very good little boy."
"For the most part?" Jarod asked raising his eyebrows.
As they reached the front door, Parker slid her key into the lock. "He has my temper," she explained apologetically. "And your tenacity. When he decides to throw a tantrum," Parker sighed. Smiling indulgently at her child she said, "Let's just say he can pitch quite a fit when he chooses to do so."
The three crossed the threshold and entered the house. Charlie promptly dashed across the room and down the back hall making motor sounds as he ran.
"How can I tell the different between a con and a temper tantrum?" Jarod asked fearfully.
Parker gazed at Jarod with amusement. "Trust me on this one, Genius. When Junior-Pez decides to explode, you'll know it."
Jarod grinned, "Junior-Pez?"
Parker surprised him by stepping up to Jarod and wrapping him in a warm embrace. Leaning against Jarod's shoulder she said tenderly, "He is so much like you, Jarod. He's so full of wonder and curiosity. He is so sensitive and loving."
Jarod rested his cheek against the top of Parker's head. Closing his eyes he savored this feeling for a moment. "He is my son." Jarod whispered reverently.
Parker nodded.
Jarod squeezed Parker in a hard bear hug. She could feel him trembling against her as Jarod struggled with his overwhelming emotions.
"I'm hungry!" Charlie chirped suddenly as he tugged at Parker's skirt.
Jarod and Parker laughed tearfully at each other before stepping apart.
The next hour was spent in a scene of such domesticity that Jarod was sure he must be dreaming. Parker puttered around in the kitchen cooking pasta and warming a loaf of bread in the oven. Jarod sat at the small table nearby with Charlie in his lap as the boy enthusiastically described all the refrigerator artwork. The child was even so magnanimous as to allow Jarod to share his paper and crayons as together they added to the collection of drawings.
As Parker dumped a pot full of pasta into a colander to drain, Jarod glanced up and asked, "Can I help with anything?"
Wiping her hands on a towel Parker smiled. "You're helping right now, more than you realize," she said with a gesture toward Charlie.
Jarod gazed at the little boy again and lovingly stoked one hand through the child's hair. Charlie turned toward his father and beamed happily.
"Time to wash your hands, baby," Parker said gently. "Supper's ready."
Jarod helped Charlie to the floor so he could run to his mother. Parker swung him up to the kitchen sink where she held him in her arms while he clumsily spread soap over his palms. Jarod watched silently. Every glance, every caress that Parker gave her son was so full of tenderness and love. It made Jarod want to weep at the sheer beauty of them. The sad, haunted woman Jarod had once known was gone. In her place was this incredible creature whose soul called to him.
Jarod realized he was staring when Parker looked at him with a questioning glance.
Mentally shaking himself, Jarod said, "Let's eat."
Digging hungrily into the mound of sauce-covered spaghetti, Jarod exclaimed, "This is really good."
"Don't sound so surprised, Rat." Parker chuckled mildly. "Then again, in all the time we've known each other, I guess this is the first time I've ever cooked for you."
"Second," Jarod corrected around a mouthful of garlic bread.
Parker frowned, trying to remember.
"You were thirteen," Jarod recalled. "You shared a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with me."
Parker smirked. "That hardly constitutes cooking, Jarod."
"Perhaps," he shrugged. "But I have had more than my share of P, B and J in the past decade, Miss Parker. Never once have I been able to find one that tasted as good as the one you made for me."
By the time dinner was over, Charlie had tomato sauce all over his face and in his hair.
"Bath time, young man," Parker announced. Charlie stood on his chair and fell into his mother's waiting arms.
Jarod grinned at the bright red handprint Parker now had on her blouse.
"Here," Parker said as she handed Jarod a large manila envelope that had been sitting on the counter. "Look through these while Mr. Spaghetti-o gets his bath."
It was a regular business type of envelope. It was creased and wrinkled, well worn and repeatedly used. Neatly written across the front were two words, "For Jarod." Jarod had not seen the packet on his first trip through the house and he wondered briefly where Parker had been hiding it.
Jarod placed the envelop on the table in front of him and stared at it for a while. He could hear water running in a tub and Charlie's giggles as water splashed. Finally, with his heartbeat thudding in his ears, Jarod opened the package and dumped the contents out.
They were pictures, dozens and dozens of photographs. Each one was carefully marked on the back with a date and a brief description written in Parker's handwriting. Jarod quickly found a copy of the image he had found on the Internet not long ago. But the earliest was a picture of Parker sprawled awkwardly on a couch. Her hair was loose and curling wildly around her face. She looked tired and worn and swollen, mainly because she was obviously very, very pregnant. But despite her thick ankles and what looked to be an uncomfortable girth, Parker's eyes were bright and shining happily.
Written beneath the date on the back it said, "Just after this picture was taken, my water broke. Our baby was born on the same day, 16 hours later."
The next photo was of Parker and her newborn babe. The child was still slick and wailing. Parker's brow was beaded with sweat and she looked exhausted. Jarod could see the tears of joy shimmering on her face in the picture.
The back of this one said, "How I wish you could have shared this moment with us. I can never give it back to you. Please forgive me."
Jarod wept silently as he carefully went through all of the pictures. Each depicted a precious moment in Charlie's life that Jarod had missed. But Parker had desperately tried to salvage some slice of those moments. The captions on the back of the photos said nothing about where they were taken or what was happening in each shot. Instead, Parker labeled each one with her thoughts and feelings from that point in time.
As Jarod worked his way forward through the years with each snapshot, he lost track of time, totally immersed in the wonder of this precious gift Parker had given him. Before he realized it, two hours had slipped away. Jarod slowly became aware of the fact that the house had gone quiet.
Sliding the treasured photos back in the envelope, Jarod tucked them into this jacket pocket and went looking for Parker. He found her in the single bedroom, stretched out on the smaller bed reading to Charlie who was snoring softly at her side.
Jarod stood in the doorway for a time, leaning against the jamb and listening to Parker's voice.
"You can come in," Parker called to him softly.
Jarod straightened. "I don't want to wake him," he argued.
"He sleeps like the dead," Parker assured him. "You won't wake him."
Jarod walked carefully into the room and knelt beside the bed. Crossing his arms on the mattress in front of him, Jarod laid his head in his arms and gazed in awe at the sleeping child.
"My mother can't get used to the fact that I sleep so little and so uneasily," Jarod whispered. "She says that when I was little I used to sleep like the dead. She used those exact same words."
Parker smiled at Jarod, grinning over the child sleeping between them. "You found your mother," she exclaimed.
Jarod nodded. "Ethan found her and my father," he said. "They are cautiously excited about meeting this little guy."
"Cautiously?" Parker asked.
Jarod smiled sadly. "My mother was not thrilled to learn that my son is a Parker."
"We can change his last name if you want," Parker offered, caressing the little boy's hair.
"Really?" Jarod asked in surprise.
"Sure," she replied. "Why not?"
They sat in silence for several minutes, watching Charlie sleep.
"Tell me what you are thinking," Parker urged.
Jarod frowned, puzzled for a moment as he tried to form his thoughts into something coherent. "I think," Jarod whispered softly. "I think I envy him." He sighed. "I'm jealous of my own son."
"Why?" Parker asked, caressing the scar on Jarod's face.
"He's so small, so tiny. Yet he has managed to do what I never could, what I spent a lifetime striving for but could never attain." Jarod said. "He has chased the sadness from your eyes. He makes you smile."
Parker smiled. "He is an incredible little boy, and he does have a magical power over me," she whispered tenderly. "But, Jarod, he has that gift only because you have given it to him. It is your spark inside him that makes me smile."
The look in Jarod's eyes as he gazed up at Parker was gut wrenching in its intensity. He wanted so much, but after so many years he was afraid to hope for what she seemed to be offering him. When Parker cupped his stubbly cheek in her palm, Jarod closed his eyes and snuggled against her touch.
"Can you ever forgive me, Jarod?" Parker whispered tearfully.
Jarod's eye's snapped open and he stared at her. "What is there to forgive?" he asked innocently.
Parker gasped, "I took you back to The Centre. I failed you. I betrayed our friendship."
Jarod took Parker's hand in his own and tenderly kissed her palm. "You didn't betray me, Parker." He said. "You found a way to escape, knowing full well that they could not keep me there. You did what you had to do to protect yourself and our child."
"I didn't know I was pregnant when I left," Parker denied.
"Didn't you?" Jarod asked. His knowing gaze pierced into her soul. "You must have realized the possibility."
Parker's eyes took on a far away look as she thought back. "It never occurred to me that night, not consciously anyway. But then again, I wasn't really surprised when my cycle didn't come."
"You must have been frightened and angry," Jarod surmised quietly.
"I was never angry," Parker sighed, caressing Jarod's cheek again. "At first, it seemed so surreal, like I was watching everything happen to some other woman. Then I realized that the package I carried inside me was very valuable, another Mirage. I was terrified. I imagined sweepers on every corner, spies in every doorway."
"I'm sorry," Jarod moaned. "I should have been there for you."
Parker's smile grew radiant. "You were," she whispered. "I was sitting on a park bench one day, waiting for a bus, the first time I felt our baby move. I started to cry," Parker gasped her eyes filling at the memory.
Jarod's vision began to blur as well.
"I felt so guilty," Parker went on. "I knew what that moment would have meant to you and I had denied you that experience. So I tried to imagine what you would have done, what you would have said if we had been together."
Parker gazed at Jarod with a tender smile. "I heard your voice in my mind so clearly, Jarod. That was when I knew."
"Knew what?" Jarod asked.
"I knew you were still alive. I knew you would come back to me, to us, one day." Parker sniffed. Casting a loving glance at their sleeping child, Parker placed one hand protectively over his chest. "I had to keep him safe until you could come. And I never once doubted that you would."
Jarod shook his head slowly as a single tear rolled down his cheek. "I don't deserve you," he murmured prayerfully.
Parker laughed. "Too bad, Wonder-boy. You're stuck with me, because I'm never leaving your side again."
"Promise me," Jarod urged desperately.
"I promise," Parker whispered. She leaned gently over their sleeping son and sealed her vow to Jarod with a tender kiss on his lips.
--
It was very early. The sun would not rise for more than an hour.
Jarod sat on the couch in the livingroom studying the photographs that Parker had given him. He was in awe of the changes in her. Jarod had always known that Parker's tough exterior hid a loving and passionate soul. Yet the woman she had become still amazed him.
Even more shocking, in Jarod's mind, was the fact that Parker seemed determined to give Jarod credit for the change in her. Jarod felt it was obvious that the child had softened Parker's heart from within. Charlie had possessed the power to alter her life, even before he'd been born.
Deep down, Jarod knew that he would always envy the boy. He would love his son with every fiber of his being. The child had owned his father completely from the moment Jarod had laid eyes on him. Nothing would ever be able to diminish the overpowering devotion Jarod felt for this little boy.
Yet some part of Jarod, a secret corner on the dark side of his heart, would twist just a little every time Parker smiled at her child. Jarod envied the affection Charlie received, his innocent belief that a mother's love could make all the world's hurts go away.
Jarod closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the couch with a heavy sigh. These thoughts and feelings filled him with shame so he forced them away. Like so many other ugly and frightening aspects of his personality, Jarod shoved the darkness into the furthest recess of his mind and locked them up tight.
A startled little gasp from the doorway caused Jarod to glance up suddenly. Charlie stood less than two yards away wearing a pair of blue footy pajamas decorated with trucks. The little boy's eyes were wide with fear, nearly panic-stricken.
"What's wrong?" Jarod asked fearfully.
"Don't tell Momma," Charlie whispered in a frightened voice. "Don't tell her I got out of bed."
"Why not?" Jarod asked with a frown.
Charlie stepped backward as though preparing to flee back to his room. "Momma doesn't like to be alone," the child intoned seriously. "It makes her cry."
Jarod stared at the boy in puzzlement. "Why?"
Charlie shrugged. "I don't know," he frowned in concentration. "But at Christmas time, I got up to play with my puzzle. I wasn't s'posed to be up so I hid under the table to play," Charlie shrugged. "I fell asleep." The little boy's eye began to fill with tears, "When I woke up, Momma was crying and yelling my name."
"She couldn't find you," Jarod said softly as he began to understand.
"She got scared," Charlie agreed.
"Come here, " Jarod said gently, patting the cushion beside him.
The little boy climbed onto the couch without hesitation. Jarod put one hand on the child's shoulder and gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment. "Momma was afraid someone may have taken you away from her," he said finally.
Charlie nodded solemnly. "The broom people," he whispered.
"Sweepers," Jarod reiterated. "Did Momma tell you about sweepers?"
"Yes," Charlie said quietly. "They are bad people. They took my Daddy - -, I mean, they took you away from us."
"What else did Momma tell you?" Jarod asked.
"Never, never go anywhere alone," the boy said. "And don't ever talk to people you don't know."
Jarod nodded seriously. "Very true. Those are important rules, Charlie. You must always obey those rules. Okay?"
"'Kay," Charlie's big brown eyes gazed up at his father intently for several long moments.
Jarod could see that the child was puzzling over something but was unsure of what to do about his confusion.
"Daddy?" the little boy asked finally.
"Yes," Jarod smiled. It was getting easier. Every time his son called him 'Daddy', Jarod was becoming more accustomed to the name.
"Does that hurt?" Charlie asked, pointing to Jarod's cheek.
Jarod's fingertips caressed the white scar on his jaw as he shook his head, "Not any more," he answered.
"Can I see?" Charlie asked cautiously.
Jarod shrugged. "Sure."
The little boy clambered up until he was standing on the couch. Bouncing excitedly, he stepped onto Jarod's thighs and leaned over. Grasping Jarod's chin in his little hand, Charlie tilted his father's head so that he could get a good look at the old wound.
"There aren't any whiskers there," Charlie observed as he traced the line with one tiny finger.
Jarod sat quietly as Charlie studied him and measured the length of the scar against one palm. The child's gaze was so clinical, so intense, that Jarod began to get the distinct feeling of a bug under a magnifying glass. Just as Jarod began to feel uncomfortable under the boy's scrutiny, the child flopped into a sitting position, straddling Jarod's lap.
"I'm glad it doesn't hurt," Charlie smiled sweetly.
"Me too," Jarod replied with a smirk.
Again the two watched each other silently for a while.
"There is something else you want to ask me," Jarod said.
Charlie blinked in surprise. "Momma said you have magic," he blurted.
It was Jarod's turn to look confused. "Magic?" he asked.
"She said you are special," Charlie explained.
Jarod felt his heart constricting in his chest. "Momma said that about me?"
"Yep," Charlie nodded. "Will you show me some magic, Daddy?"
Jarod obediently made a quarter disappear then pulled it from the little boy's ear. It was a hackneyed old trick but Charlie was delighted. Jarod proceeded to run through his entire repertoire of card tricks and slight of hand while Charlie applauded enthusiastically.
"Are you two having fun?" Miss Parker asked nearly two hours later.
Jarod was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table. Charlie was tucked securely on Jarod's lap as early morning sunshine streamed through the nearby windows. The table's surface and the floor around them were littered with scraps of paper and tightly folded origami birds.
"Look what I did, Momma!" Charlie exclaimed. "I made it all by myself." The crumbled piece of paper that Charlie held out did bear a remarkable resemblance to a bird.
Parker smiled reassuringly at Jarod. "How long did that take you?" she asked him with amusement.
The pretender shrugged. "His fine motor skills are still developing so it took us a few tries."
Crossing her arms with a smirk Parker said, "Just a few?"
With a small laugh Jarod explained, "He wanted to do it on his own." Gazing fondly at the child, Jarod lovingly ruffled Charlie's soft brown hair. "He was rather emphatic about that point."
Parker smiled tearfully at the scene. "He tends to be quite determined about things like that."
"Stubborn," Jarod agreed with a cocky grin. "He gets that from you."
"I don't think so Rat-boy," Parker growled playfully. "You're the hard- headed one."
Jarod smirked gleefully. "I'm tenacious. That's not at all like stubborn."
Parker made a rude scoffing noise as she turned toward the kitchen. Jarod watched her as she scooped fresh grinds into the coffee maker and pressed the button. Dress in a well-worn pair of jeans and a soft pink blouse, Parker moved with the same grace and efficiency that Jarod had always remembered. She was barefoot, Jarod noticed and her hair hung loose around her shoulders. The dark brunette tresses hung nearly to her shoulder blades and were longer than Jarod could remember ever seeing them.
"So what's the plan for today?" Jarod asked.
"We have a fairly regular Saturday routine," Parker replied as she pulled two mugs from a cabinet. "Charlie and I will walk to the end of the driveway and get the paper. Then we'll come back in here and he will read the comics while I make french toast."
"Do you read the funny pages to your mom?" Jarod asked, tickling Charlie's ribs.
"Yes," the little boy giggled. "Well, some of them anyway."
Parker smiled. "He points out the words he knows," she explained. "And usually manages to figure out one or two new ones. Let's go get the paper, baby."
"'Kay," Charlie jumped up happily and ran toward the front door.
"He isn't dressed yet," Jarod pointed out as he watched Parker take the little boy's hand.
"Going outside in my pajamas is what makes it fun!" Charlie exclaimed.
Jarod pulled his knees up so that he could prop his arms across his kneecaps. "I guess that makes sense," he said with a shrug. Parker flashed a brilliant smile over her shoulder and then head down the front steps with Charlie skipping merrily at her side.
Standing quietly, Jarod stepped over to the doorway to watch the two. It was a beautiful day, sunshine filtered through the trees, speckling Parker and her son with light. Jarod was vaguely aware of other people in the neighborhood. A young man across the street was washing his car. The older fellow next door was trimming well-kept hedges. But Jarod ignored them. He had eyes only for this beautiful woman and the child they had made together.
Jarod smiled as he watched Parker lift Charlie from the ground so that the little boy could pull the newspaper from the slot beneath the mailbox. With the paper clutched to his chest, Charlie began skipping back up the sidewalk toward the house.
"Hello, Mr. Sommerset!" Charlie called, waving wildly at the man with the hedges.
"Hello, Charlie," the low grating voice made Jarod flinch. In a purely reflex action, Jarod stepped back, away from the doorway and into the shadows of the house. "Lovely day, isn't it Ms. Miller?" the neighbor said.
Jarod stared at the man. The salt and pepper colored hair was a fine dye job indeed. The gardening hat and sunglasses served to further disguise the man's appearance. Jarod watched in horror as Parker cheerfully crossed the yard to talk to the man.
"She never met him," Jarod whispered to himself in dismay.
"I am a finder," he had said to Jarod all those years ago. "Missing families are my niche. And yours, brother, is a fulltime job."
Mr. White's distinctively low threatening voice had given Jarod pause that day in the furnace room. The albino's knowledge of Jarod and his family had been eerily disturbing then. The man's presence now, mere yards away from the offspring Jarod had just found, was enough to send an icy bolt of panic through Jarod's heart.
Jarod was moving before his mind registered the action. He could see the young man across the street, still absently washing the same bumper of the car as he gazed toward them. Jarod recognized the odd tilt of the man's head, indicating that he had just spoken into a hidden microphone. Out of the corner of his eye, Jarod saw a van on the corner. It was marked with the name of a cable company, but there was no cable connection box on the utility pole above. Jarod's heart was thudding in his ears as he quickly crossed the yard to where Parker stood with Charlie in her arms.
Jarod's fear must have registered on his face because Parker gasped when she saw him. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"Mr. White," Jarod croaked from a dry throat.
Moving with the deliberate slowness Jarod remembered, Mr. White turned toward him and smiled coldly. "Good to see you again, Jarod," he purred.
"Mr. White?" Parker asked, glancing from one man to the other nervously.
"Get in the house, Parker," Jarod hissed.
"Oh my god," Parker gasped as she recalled the name from her memory. She began to back away, clutching her child to her bosom. "Jarod! Are they coming?" Parker asked in a frightened whisper.
"No," Jarod said, feeling his blood turn into ice. "They are already here."
Parker turned and ran. Jarod did what he could to place himself between her and the abruptly growing number of people on the street. But as Parker reached the steps, Willie and two other men stepped out the front door of the house. Having evidently entered through the back door, the sweepers had been prepared to attack them inside.
"He's too young," Jarod pleaded to Mr. White.
With a careless shrug, the albino replied, "Only by a few months. I should thank you, Jarod. Really. The boy was going to bring me only a pittance, barely enough profit to cover my expenses for these last few months. But my vigilance has paid off. With you as an added bonus, I may be able to retire."
The sweepers grabbed Parker by the arms and though she twisted and fought to hold on, Willie pried Charlie away from her.
"Momma?" Charlie began to cry.
When Jarod turned to help her, the car washing man, a man in a cable service uniform and two suited sweepers fell on him, wrestling him to the ground and clapping cuffs around his wrists.
"WILLIE!" Parker screamed. "On my mother's grave, I swear I'll kill you if you hurt that child. I'll rip your god damned head off!" She kicked and hollered and swore at the sweepers with vehemence.
Jarod couldn't see. They had his face pressed into the concrete and there was a knee planted between his shoulder blades. Jarod could only hear Parker's furious screams and the soft sounds of Charlie sobbing.
Jarod's shoulder joints jerked painfully when his captors dragged him to his feet. With a mighty surge, Jarod rushed against the sweepers in an attempt to break free, or at least give Parker the chance to do so. But they were ready for him. A sturdy club impacted with the back of Jarod's head and he went down hard. He fought to stay conscious, blinking away the stars that floated before his eyes.
He heard a thumping whoosh of sound and realized that Parker had just been punched in the stomach. That was when little Charlie's whimpers turned to screams.
A long black car glided to a stop at the curb. Willie carried the child to the waiting vehicle. Jarod struggled frantically against the weight that held him but he was pinned tightly. From his awkward position on the ground, Jarod could see the car door open.
"Hello, Charles," a familiar voice wheezed from within. "I'm your grandpa."
--
Stumbling Toward Nirvana
By Phenyx Chapter 7
-
". started singing it not knowing what it was, " Charlie's lilting voice sang. "And we'll go on singing it forever just because." The little boy was safely strapped into his car seat in back, his head bobbing back and forth and his feet swinging enthusiastically as he sang.
Jarod sat in the front passenger seat with his back against the door so that he could watch the child. Parker drove her old but sturdy Honda hatchback.
As the car eased to a halt at an intersection, Charlie's song abruptly ended. "S-T-O-P." He spelled. "That spells stop."
"Yes, sweetheart," Parker smiled.
"G-O, spells go," the boy went on as though he was imparting sacred information. "I can spell McDonald's!" he added excitedly. "M-C-D-O-N-A-L-D- S, McDonald's."
Jarod grinned when he saw Parker rolling her eyes dramatically.
"Very good Charlie," Jarod smirked.
The little boy grabbed the cushioned brace in front of him and leaned forward. Charlie's dark eyes shined brightly as he said, "I can spell french fries, too! F-R-E-N-C-H-F-R-Y-S."
"Close enough," Jarod agreed.
"I like french fries," Charlie volunteered. "Do you like french fries, Daddy?" he asked with grim seriousness.
Jarod blinked in startled wonder when he realized that the boy was referring to him. "Yes," Jarod replied slowly. "Yes I do."
Charlie's lips broke into a huge delighted grin. "Momma! Daddy likes french fries! We should buy some for dinner."
"Not tonight, Charlie," Parker said gently. "You had french fries yesterday."
A look of wounded dismay brought a frown to the boy's little face. "But Daddy wasn't here yesterday. He didn't get any."
"Not tonight," Parker repeated.
A soft pink lower lip began to tremble and large dark eyes filled with tears. "But Daddy wants french fries, don't you Daddy?"
"I said 'no'," Parker reiterated more firmly.
Jarod glanced frantically from the woman beside him to the boy in back. Charlie seemed about to burst into tears and Jarod felt a desperate need to make the boy smile again.
"My treat, Parker," Jarod offered. "A few fried potatoes two nights in a row won't hurt him."
Parker smiled sadly, reached out and took one of Jarod's hands in her own. "I know that you want to give him everything right now, Jarod. I know how desperate you are to make up time with him," she gave Jarod's hand a slight squeeze. "But you can't give in to him once you've said 'no'. If you do, he'll be impossible to handle for days. Don't let him manipulate you."
Jarod frowned and glanced back at his son. Tussled hair fell in unruly locks across the boy's forehead and Charlie's large brown eyes shimmered with unshed tears. The toddler looked so forlorn and wounded that it made Jarod's heart ache.
"He doesn't have a scheming bone in his body," Jarod whispered tenderly.
Parker's joyful laughter filled the car. "Don't let him fool you. The little con-artist is his father's son," Parker's smile of joy filled Jarod with amazement. "Besides, we are having spaghetti when we get home."
"With meatballs?" Charlie asked tremulously.
"Yes," Parker grinned again. "With meatballs."
"YEA!" Charlie suddenly crowed kicking his feet excitedly. "It is the song that never ends," he began singing as though he had never paused. Smiling happily and bobbing his head with the tune again, Charlie stared out the window as though his brief distress had never existed.
Jarod gazed at Charlie and then glanced at Parker in astonishment. "He WAS trying to manipulate me," he whispered in dismay.
"He's three and a half years old," Parker smiled indulgently. "A very bright three and a half years old. It's very normal behavior for a child his age to begin testing boundaries."
"Does he do this type of thing often?" Jarod asked with concern.
Parker glanced lovingly at the reflection of her son in the rearview mirror. "He isn't purposely being malicious," she explained. "But Charlie has learned that he can sometimes have things his way if he can make me feel guilty about it." Parker paused for a moment then added, "It is very much the same way his father used to coerce me."
At that point, the little car pulled into the driveway in front of the townhouse that Jarod had visited earlier in the day. Jarod stood by and watched her movements as Parker got out of the vehicle and tipped her seat forward to unbuckle her little boy. Lifting Charlie out of his seat, Parker gave him a warm embrace and kissed the boy's forehead before setting him gently on the sidewalk.
No sooner had Charlie's feet hit the pavement than he turned to the adults and announced, "I'm going to bounce." He then proceeded to hop up and down on both feet.
Parker smiled at the look of total confusion on Jarod's face. With a contented chuckle she said to her son, "Bounce in the general direction of the front door, please."
"'Kay," Charlie said obediently.
As Parker and Jarod strolled up the walk, Charlie bounced happily at his mother's side.
"Bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce" Charlie sang. "Bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce."
Jarod grinned broadly as he quickly recognized the tune to which the child was chanting. Charlie had changed the words yet the familiar melody rang through Jarod's head.
"Cree craw toad's foot," Jarod sang. "Geese walk barefoot."
Charlie stopped abruptly and froze in place. Gazing up at Jarod with wide awestruck eyes, Charlie seemed frightened for a moment. Jarod halted as well and for a long heartbeat in time, the two stared at each other. Then Charlie suddenly broke into peals of laughter and began literally running circles around his parents.
Jarod looked at Parker and smiled in wonder. "He seems to have a great deal of energy."
"He's a bit excited," Parker snickered. "But this is nothing. You should see him after a bowl of ice cream and half a glass of cola."
At Jarod's confused frown, Parker explained, "Take a slightly hyperactive little boy, add sugar and caffeine, and the result is a lovable little bundle of very destructive energy. The chaos theory in action."
Jarod's eyes followed Charlie's progress as he ran around and around. "It must be difficult keeping up with him on your own," Jarod said softly.
Parker placed one hand gently on Jarod's arm. "He's the light of my life. I wouldn't trade one moment with him for anything." She shrugged. "The trick is to keep him occupied. For the most part, he's a very good little boy."
"For the most part?" Jarod asked raising his eyebrows.
As they reached the front door, Parker slid her key into the lock. "He has my temper," she explained apologetically. "And your tenacity. When he decides to throw a tantrum," Parker sighed. Smiling indulgently at her child she said, "Let's just say he can pitch quite a fit when he chooses to do so."
The three crossed the threshold and entered the house. Charlie promptly dashed across the room and down the back hall making motor sounds as he ran.
"How can I tell the different between a con and a temper tantrum?" Jarod asked fearfully.
Parker gazed at Jarod with amusement. "Trust me on this one, Genius. When Junior-Pez decides to explode, you'll know it."
Jarod grinned, "Junior-Pez?"
Parker surprised him by stepping up to Jarod and wrapping him in a warm embrace. Leaning against Jarod's shoulder she said tenderly, "He is so much like you, Jarod. He's so full of wonder and curiosity. He is so sensitive and loving."
Jarod rested his cheek against the top of Parker's head. Closing his eyes he savored this feeling for a moment. "He is my son." Jarod whispered reverently.
Parker nodded.
Jarod squeezed Parker in a hard bear hug. She could feel him trembling against her as Jarod struggled with his overwhelming emotions.
"I'm hungry!" Charlie chirped suddenly as he tugged at Parker's skirt.
Jarod and Parker laughed tearfully at each other before stepping apart.
The next hour was spent in a scene of such domesticity that Jarod was sure he must be dreaming. Parker puttered around in the kitchen cooking pasta and warming a loaf of bread in the oven. Jarod sat at the small table nearby with Charlie in his lap as the boy enthusiastically described all the refrigerator artwork. The child was even so magnanimous as to allow Jarod to share his paper and crayons as together they added to the collection of drawings.
As Parker dumped a pot full of pasta into a colander to drain, Jarod glanced up and asked, "Can I help with anything?"
Wiping her hands on a towel Parker smiled. "You're helping right now, more than you realize," she said with a gesture toward Charlie.
Jarod gazed at the little boy again and lovingly stoked one hand through the child's hair. Charlie turned toward his father and beamed happily.
"Time to wash your hands, baby," Parker said gently. "Supper's ready."
Jarod helped Charlie to the floor so he could run to his mother. Parker swung him up to the kitchen sink where she held him in her arms while he clumsily spread soap over his palms. Jarod watched silently. Every glance, every caress that Parker gave her son was so full of tenderness and love. It made Jarod want to weep at the sheer beauty of them. The sad, haunted woman Jarod had once known was gone. In her place was this incredible creature whose soul called to him.
Jarod realized he was staring when Parker looked at him with a questioning glance.
Mentally shaking himself, Jarod said, "Let's eat."
Digging hungrily into the mound of sauce-covered spaghetti, Jarod exclaimed, "This is really good."
"Don't sound so surprised, Rat." Parker chuckled mildly. "Then again, in all the time we've known each other, I guess this is the first time I've ever cooked for you."
"Second," Jarod corrected around a mouthful of garlic bread.
Parker frowned, trying to remember.
"You were thirteen," Jarod recalled. "You shared a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with me."
Parker smirked. "That hardly constitutes cooking, Jarod."
"Perhaps," he shrugged. "But I have had more than my share of P, B and J in the past decade, Miss Parker. Never once have I been able to find one that tasted as good as the one you made for me."
By the time dinner was over, Charlie had tomato sauce all over his face and in his hair.
"Bath time, young man," Parker announced. Charlie stood on his chair and fell into his mother's waiting arms.
Jarod grinned at the bright red handprint Parker now had on her blouse.
"Here," Parker said as she handed Jarod a large manila envelope that had been sitting on the counter. "Look through these while Mr. Spaghetti-o gets his bath."
It was a regular business type of envelope. It was creased and wrinkled, well worn and repeatedly used. Neatly written across the front were two words, "For Jarod." Jarod had not seen the packet on his first trip through the house and he wondered briefly where Parker had been hiding it.
Jarod placed the envelop on the table in front of him and stared at it for a while. He could hear water running in a tub and Charlie's giggles as water splashed. Finally, with his heartbeat thudding in his ears, Jarod opened the package and dumped the contents out.
They were pictures, dozens and dozens of photographs. Each one was carefully marked on the back with a date and a brief description written in Parker's handwriting. Jarod quickly found a copy of the image he had found on the Internet not long ago. But the earliest was a picture of Parker sprawled awkwardly on a couch. Her hair was loose and curling wildly around her face. She looked tired and worn and swollen, mainly because she was obviously very, very pregnant. But despite her thick ankles and what looked to be an uncomfortable girth, Parker's eyes were bright and shining happily.
Written beneath the date on the back it said, "Just after this picture was taken, my water broke. Our baby was born on the same day, 16 hours later."
The next photo was of Parker and her newborn babe. The child was still slick and wailing. Parker's brow was beaded with sweat and she looked exhausted. Jarod could see the tears of joy shimmering on her face in the picture.
The back of this one said, "How I wish you could have shared this moment with us. I can never give it back to you. Please forgive me."
Jarod wept silently as he carefully went through all of the pictures. Each depicted a precious moment in Charlie's life that Jarod had missed. But Parker had desperately tried to salvage some slice of those moments. The captions on the back of the photos said nothing about where they were taken or what was happening in each shot. Instead, Parker labeled each one with her thoughts and feelings from that point in time.
As Jarod worked his way forward through the years with each snapshot, he lost track of time, totally immersed in the wonder of this precious gift Parker had given him. Before he realized it, two hours had slipped away. Jarod slowly became aware of the fact that the house had gone quiet.
Sliding the treasured photos back in the envelope, Jarod tucked them into this jacket pocket and went looking for Parker. He found her in the single bedroom, stretched out on the smaller bed reading to Charlie who was snoring softly at her side.
Jarod stood in the doorway for a time, leaning against the jamb and listening to Parker's voice.
"You can come in," Parker called to him softly.
Jarod straightened. "I don't want to wake him," he argued.
"He sleeps like the dead," Parker assured him. "You won't wake him."
Jarod walked carefully into the room and knelt beside the bed. Crossing his arms on the mattress in front of him, Jarod laid his head in his arms and gazed in awe at the sleeping child.
"My mother can't get used to the fact that I sleep so little and so uneasily," Jarod whispered. "She says that when I was little I used to sleep like the dead. She used those exact same words."
Parker smiled at Jarod, grinning over the child sleeping between them. "You found your mother," she exclaimed.
Jarod nodded. "Ethan found her and my father," he said. "They are cautiously excited about meeting this little guy."
"Cautiously?" Parker asked.
Jarod smiled sadly. "My mother was not thrilled to learn that my son is a Parker."
"We can change his last name if you want," Parker offered, caressing the little boy's hair.
"Really?" Jarod asked in surprise.
"Sure," she replied. "Why not?"
They sat in silence for several minutes, watching Charlie sleep.
"Tell me what you are thinking," Parker urged.
Jarod frowned, puzzled for a moment as he tried to form his thoughts into something coherent. "I think," Jarod whispered softly. "I think I envy him." He sighed. "I'm jealous of my own son."
"Why?" Parker asked, caressing the scar on Jarod's face.
"He's so small, so tiny. Yet he has managed to do what I never could, what I spent a lifetime striving for but could never attain." Jarod said. "He has chased the sadness from your eyes. He makes you smile."
Parker smiled. "He is an incredible little boy, and he does have a magical power over me," she whispered tenderly. "But, Jarod, he has that gift only because you have given it to him. It is your spark inside him that makes me smile."
The look in Jarod's eyes as he gazed up at Parker was gut wrenching in its intensity. He wanted so much, but after so many years he was afraid to hope for what she seemed to be offering him. When Parker cupped his stubbly cheek in her palm, Jarod closed his eyes and snuggled against her touch.
"Can you ever forgive me, Jarod?" Parker whispered tearfully.
Jarod's eye's snapped open and he stared at her. "What is there to forgive?" he asked innocently.
Parker gasped, "I took you back to The Centre. I failed you. I betrayed our friendship."
Jarod took Parker's hand in his own and tenderly kissed her palm. "You didn't betray me, Parker." He said. "You found a way to escape, knowing full well that they could not keep me there. You did what you had to do to protect yourself and our child."
"I didn't know I was pregnant when I left," Parker denied.
"Didn't you?" Jarod asked. His knowing gaze pierced into her soul. "You must have realized the possibility."
Parker's eyes took on a far away look as she thought back. "It never occurred to me that night, not consciously anyway. But then again, I wasn't really surprised when my cycle didn't come."
"You must have been frightened and angry," Jarod surmised quietly.
"I was never angry," Parker sighed, caressing Jarod's cheek again. "At first, it seemed so surreal, like I was watching everything happen to some other woman. Then I realized that the package I carried inside me was very valuable, another Mirage. I was terrified. I imagined sweepers on every corner, spies in every doorway."
"I'm sorry," Jarod moaned. "I should have been there for you."
Parker's smile grew radiant. "You were," she whispered. "I was sitting on a park bench one day, waiting for a bus, the first time I felt our baby move. I started to cry," Parker gasped her eyes filling at the memory.
Jarod's vision began to blur as well.
"I felt so guilty," Parker went on. "I knew what that moment would have meant to you and I had denied you that experience. So I tried to imagine what you would have done, what you would have said if we had been together."
Parker gazed at Jarod with a tender smile. "I heard your voice in my mind so clearly, Jarod. That was when I knew."
"Knew what?" Jarod asked.
"I knew you were still alive. I knew you would come back to me, to us, one day." Parker sniffed. Casting a loving glance at their sleeping child, Parker placed one hand protectively over his chest. "I had to keep him safe until you could come. And I never once doubted that you would."
Jarod shook his head slowly as a single tear rolled down his cheek. "I don't deserve you," he murmured prayerfully.
Parker laughed. "Too bad, Wonder-boy. You're stuck with me, because I'm never leaving your side again."
"Promise me," Jarod urged desperately.
"I promise," Parker whispered. She leaned gently over their sleeping son and sealed her vow to Jarod with a tender kiss on his lips.
--
It was very early. The sun would not rise for more than an hour.
Jarod sat on the couch in the livingroom studying the photographs that Parker had given him. He was in awe of the changes in her. Jarod had always known that Parker's tough exterior hid a loving and passionate soul. Yet the woman she had become still amazed him.
Even more shocking, in Jarod's mind, was the fact that Parker seemed determined to give Jarod credit for the change in her. Jarod felt it was obvious that the child had softened Parker's heart from within. Charlie had possessed the power to alter her life, even before he'd been born.
Deep down, Jarod knew that he would always envy the boy. He would love his son with every fiber of his being. The child had owned his father completely from the moment Jarod had laid eyes on him. Nothing would ever be able to diminish the overpowering devotion Jarod felt for this little boy.
Yet some part of Jarod, a secret corner on the dark side of his heart, would twist just a little every time Parker smiled at her child. Jarod envied the affection Charlie received, his innocent belief that a mother's love could make all the world's hurts go away.
Jarod closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the couch with a heavy sigh. These thoughts and feelings filled him with shame so he forced them away. Like so many other ugly and frightening aspects of his personality, Jarod shoved the darkness into the furthest recess of his mind and locked them up tight.
A startled little gasp from the doorway caused Jarod to glance up suddenly. Charlie stood less than two yards away wearing a pair of blue footy pajamas decorated with trucks. The little boy's eyes were wide with fear, nearly panic-stricken.
"What's wrong?" Jarod asked fearfully.
"Don't tell Momma," Charlie whispered in a frightened voice. "Don't tell her I got out of bed."
"Why not?" Jarod asked with a frown.
Charlie stepped backward as though preparing to flee back to his room. "Momma doesn't like to be alone," the child intoned seriously. "It makes her cry."
Jarod stared at the boy in puzzlement. "Why?"
Charlie shrugged. "I don't know," he frowned in concentration. "But at Christmas time, I got up to play with my puzzle. I wasn't s'posed to be up so I hid under the table to play," Charlie shrugged. "I fell asleep." The little boy's eye began to fill with tears, "When I woke up, Momma was crying and yelling my name."
"She couldn't find you," Jarod said softly as he began to understand.
"She got scared," Charlie agreed.
"Come here, " Jarod said gently, patting the cushion beside him.
The little boy climbed onto the couch without hesitation. Jarod put one hand on the child's shoulder and gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment. "Momma was afraid someone may have taken you away from her," he said finally.
Charlie nodded solemnly. "The broom people," he whispered.
"Sweepers," Jarod reiterated. "Did Momma tell you about sweepers?"
"Yes," Charlie said quietly. "They are bad people. They took my Daddy - -, I mean, they took you away from us."
"What else did Momma tell you?" Jarod asked.
"Never, never go anywhere alone," the boy said. "And don't ever talk to people you don't know."
Jarod nodded seriously. "Very true. Those are important rules, Charlie. You must always obey those rules. Okay?"
"'Kay," Charlie's big brown eyes gazed up at his father intently for several long moments.
Jarod could see that the child was puzzling over something but was unsure of what to do about his confusion.
"Daddy?" the little boy asked finally.
"Yes," Jarod smiled. It was getting easier. Every time his son called him 'Daddy', Jarod was becoming more accustomed to the name.
"Does that hurt?" Charlie asked, pointing to Jarod's cheek.
Jarod's fingertips caressed the white scar on his jaw as he shook his head, "Not any more," he answered.
"Can I see?" Charlie asked cautiously.
Jarod shrugged. "Sure."
The little boy clambered up until he was standing on the couch. Bouncing excitedly, he stepped onto Jarod's thighs and leaned over. Grasping Jarod's chin in his little hand, Charlie tilted his father's head so that he could get a good look at the old wound.
"There aren't any whiskers there," Charlie observed as he traced the line with one tiny finger.
Jarod sat quietly as Charlie studied him and measured the length of the scar against one palm. The child's gaze was so clinical, so intense, that Jarod began to get the distinct feeling of a bug under a magnifying glass. Just as Jarod began to feel uncomfortable under the boy's scrutiny, the child flopped into a sitting position, straddling Jarod's lap.
"I'm glad it doesn't hurt," Charlie smiled sweetly.
"Me too," Jarod replied with a smirk.
Again the two watched each other silently for a while.
"There is something else you want to ask me," Jarod said.
Charlie blinked in surprise. "Momma said you have magic," he blurted.
It was Jarod's turn to look confused. "Magic?" he asked.
"She said you are special," Charlie explained.
Jarod felt his heart constricting in his chest. "Momma said that about me?"
"Yep," Charlie nodded. "Will you show me some magic, Daddy?"
Jarod obediently made a quarter disappear then pulled it from the little boy's ear. It was a hackneyed old trick but Charlie was delighted. Jarod proceeded to run through his entire repertoire of card tricks and slight of hand while Charlie applauded enthusiastically.
"Are you two having fun?" Miss Parker asked nearly two hours later.
Jarod was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table. Charlie was tucked securely on Jarod's lap as early morning sunshine streamed through the nearby windows. The table's surface and the floor around them were littered with scraps of paper and tightly folded origami birds.
"Look what I did, Momma!" Charlie exclaimed. "I made it all by myself." The crumbled piece of paper that Charlie held out did bear a remarkable resemblance to a bird.
Parker smiled reassuringly at Jarod. "How long did that take you?" she asked him with amusement.
The pretender shrugged. "His fine motor skills are still developing so it took us a few tries."
Crossing her arms with a smirk Parker said, "Just a few?"
With a small laugh Jarod explained, "He wanted to do it on his own." Gazing fondly at the child, Jarod lovingly ruffled Charlie's soft brown hair. "He was rather emphatic about that point."
Parker smiled tearfully at the scene. "He tends to be quite determined about things like that."
"Stubborn," Jarod agreed with a cocky grin. "He gets that from you."
"I don't think so Rat-boy," Parker growled playfully. "You're the hard- headed one."
Jarod smirked gleefully. "I'm tenacious. That's not at all like stubborn."
Parker made a rude scoffing noise as she turned toward the kitchen. Jarod watched her as she scooped fresh grinds into the coffee maker and pressed the button. Dress in a well-worn pair of jeans and a soft pink blouse, Parker moved with the same grace and efficiency that Jarod had always remembered. She was barefoot, Jarod noticed and her hair hung loose around her shoulders. The dark brunette tresses hung nearly to her shoulder blades and were longer than Jarod could remember ever seeing them.
"So what's the plan for today?" Jarod asked.
"We have a fairly regular Saturday routine," Parker replied as she pulled two mugs from a cabinet. "Charlie and I will walk to the end of the driveway and get the paper. Then we'll come back in here and he will read the comics while I make french toast."
"Do you read the funny pages to your mom?" Jarod asked, tickling Charlie's ribs.
"Yes," the little boy giggled. "Well, some of them anyway."
Parker smiled. "He points out the words he knows," she explained. "And usually manages to figure out one or two new ones. Let's go get the paper, baby."
"'Kay," Charlie jumped up happily and ran toward the front door.
"He isn't dressed yet," Jarod pointed out as he watched Parker take the little boy's hand.
"Going outside in my pajamas is what makes it fun!" Charlie exclaimed.
Jarod pulled his knees up so that he could prop his arms across his kneecaps. "I guess that makes sense," he said with a shrug. Parker flashed a brilliant smile over her shoulder and then head down the front steps with Charlie skipping merrily at her side.
Standing quietly, Jarod stepped over to the doorway to watch the two. It was a beautiful day, sunshine filtered through the trees, speckling Parker and her son with light. Jarod was vaguely aware of other people in the neighborhood. A young man across the street was washing his car. The older fellow next door was trimming well-kept hedges. But Jarod ignored them. He had eyes only for this beautiful woman and the child they had made together.
Jarod smiled as he watched Parker lift Charlie from the ground so that the little boy could pull the newspaper from the slot beneath the mailbox. With the paper clutched to his chest, Charlie began skipping back up the sidewalk toward the house.
"Hello, Mr. Sommerset!" Charlie called, waving wildly at the man with the hedges.
"Hello, Charlie," the low grating voice made Jarod flinch. In a purely reflex action, Jarod stepped back, away from the doorway and into the shadows of the house. "Lovely day, isn't it Ms. Miller?" the neighbor said.
Jarod stared at the man. The salt and pepper colored hair was a fine dye job indeed. The gardening hat and sunglasses served to further disguise the man's appearance. Jarod watched in horror as Parker cheerfully crossed the yard to talk to the man.
"She never met him," Jarod whispered to himself in dismay.
"I am a finder," he had said to Jarod all those years ago. "Missing families are my niche. And yours, brother, is a fulltime job."
Mr. White's distinctively low threatening voice had given Jarod pause that day in the furnace room. The albino's knowledge of Jarod and his family had been eerily disturbing then. The man's presence now, mere yards away from the offspring Jarod had just found, was enough to send an icy bolt of panic through Jarod's heart.
Jarod was moving before his mind registered the action. He could see the young man across the street, still absently washing the same bumper of the car as he gazed toward them. Jarod recognized the odd tilt of the man's head, indicating that he had just spoken into a hidden microphone. Out of the corner of his eye, Jarod saw a van on the corner. It was marked with the name of a cable company, but there was no cable connection box on the utility pole above. Jarod's heart was thudding in his ears as he quickly crossed the yard to where Parker stood with Charlie in her arms.
Jarod's fear must have registered on his face because Parker gasped when she saw him. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"Mr. White," Jarod croaked from a dry throat.
Moving with the deliberate slowness Jarod remembered, Mr. White turned toward him and smiled coldly. "Good to see you again, Jarod," he purred.
"Mr. White?" Parker asked, glancing from one man to the other nervously.
"Get in the house, Parker," Jarod hissed.
"Oh my god," Parker gasped as she recalled the name from her memory. She began to back away, clutching her child to her bosom. "Jarod! Are they coming?" Parker asked in a frightened whisper.
"No," Jarod said, feeling his blood turn into ice. "They are already here."
Parker turned and ran. Jarod did what he could to place himself between her and the abruptly growing number of people on the street. But as Parker reached the steps, Willie and two other men stepped out the front door of the house. Having evidently entered through the back door, the sweepers had been prepared to attack them inside.
"He's too young," Jarod pleaded to Mr. White.
With a careless shrug, the albino replied, "Only by a few months. I should thank you, Jarod. Really. The boy was going to bring me only a pittance, barely enough profit to cover my expenses for these last few months. But my vigilance has paid off. With you as an added bonus, I may be able to retire."
The sweepers grabbed Parker by the arms and though she twisted and fought to hold on, Willie pried Charlie away from her.
"Momma?" Charlie began to cry.
When Jarod turned to help her, the car washing man, a man in a cable service uniform and two suited sweepers fell on him, wrestling him to the ground and clapping cuffs around his wrists.
"WILLIE!" Parker screamed. "On my mother's grave, I swear I'll kill you if you hurt that child. I'll rip your god damned head off!" She kicked and hollered and swore at the sweepers with vehemence.
Jarod couldn't see. They had his face pressed into the concrete and there was a knee planted between his shoulder blades. Jarod could only hear Parker's furious screams and the soft sounds of Charlie sobbing.
Jarod's shoulder joints jerked painfully when his captors dragged him to his feet. With a mighty surge, Jarod rushed against the sweepers in an attempt to break free, or at least give Parker the chance to do so. But they were ready for him. A sturdy club impacted with the back of Jarod's head and he went down hard. He fought to stay conscious, blinking away the stars that floated before his eyes.
He heard a thumping whoosh of sound and realized that Parker had just been punched in the stomach. That was when little Charlie's whimpers turned to screams.
A long black car glided to a stop at the curb. Willie carried the child to the waiting vehicle. Jarod struggled frantically against the weight that held him but he was pinned tightly. From his awkward position on the ground, Jarod could see the car door open.
"Hello, Charles," a familiar voice wheezed from within. "I'm your grandpa."
--
