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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Research Subject - by MMB
Chapter 4: Movement
Winter in Delaware can drag on almost as long as it does at home - but I've begun to see signs of Spring at long last.
The months of almost enforced quiet were good for me though - at least, that's what my doctor kept telling me. My health had been surprisingly good, almost in direct contradiction to what I had so feared would be my fate should I attempt to have another child, much less attempt it at this late date. My morning sickness, as I had predicted, was a first-trimester obstacle. Almost the day I entered my thirteenth week, everything cleared up and my appetite finally returned. The doctor was thrilled - at last I stopped losing weight and began to gain.
I talked to Rene frequently and commented on how different this pregnancy was from both of my others, and my darling and all-too-smart med-school daughter kept telling me it was because I was finally completely happy. Maybe she was right - but I knew I'd be a lot happier when she took her Spring Break and came home to me. To us. Sydney's impending fatherhood had given him the courage to reach out to my daughter as a father, and I knew that Rene was thrilled to have an honorable man playing that role in her life at last.
I wondered what I had ever done with myself before I met Sydney - he had taken my life and turned it upside down and made it so much better. I loved him with a passion and a completeness I'd never known in my previous marriage. He understood me and I understood him in ways that only people who are twins could, and it drew us closer in a very special way. I think that having had that close twin-bond already opened for us before had given us the opportunity to refocus that connection with each other in an almost psychic way. I don't think I could ever again live without him in my life - I would be completely lost.
At long last, I had acquired real friends - good friends at that, rather than just work acquaintances - for Sydney's friends had made me theirs as well. I saw Debbie Broots often to tutor her in Chemistry, and many of those sessions included at least one if not more of her friends taking the same class. I found that I had a knack for getting some of the more difficult concepts of the math across, and I inevitably enjoyed myself immensely in the company of these delightful young people. Broots and Debbie and Sydney and I had gotten close enough that we had at least one meal each week where Broots and Deb were at our house and another where Sydney and I were at theirs.
Then there was Miss Parker. After an incredibly difficult introduction, I'd been surprised and Sydney outright astounded at the amount of time she chose to spend with us. From what Sydney told me, she had never had very much to do with him socially prior to our marriage - despite the fact that she obviously looked on my husband as a father-figure. That changed quickly once that initial difficulty was settled. We saw her almost as often as we saw Broots - and every once in a while our house seemed to swell as we would host a dinner with both the Broots' and Miss Parker together. However, Miss Parker had made a point of first apologizing to Debbie for her inexcusable behavior - and I think I was the only one to see how important it was to the woman that she be forgiven by the younger female in our little group.
What was more, she occasionally began to take advantage of the afternoons she knew that Deb and her friends weren't coming, and she would arrive with some small offering to go with my afternoon tea - and then we talked. I was sure Sydney suspected, but I knew he'd approve had he known. I didn't think that poor girl had had another woman she'd felt comfortable enough to talk to for a very long time. After a few of these visits I suspected that I'd started to play a surrogate mother role for her just as Sydney had become a surrogate father over the years. I decided I really didn't mind, for as I had suspected, there was a tender and very sentimental soul that had been hiding quite successfully behind that prickly exterior - one that so hesitantly was beginning to feel safe in making itself known from time to time.
I hadn't thought it would happen, but people from back home hadn't completely given up on me either. Julia hadn't been able to find another chemist to take my place, and so I started doing some long-distance consulting work for her on her newest project. Jim and I spoke by phone at least once a week for updates, and I got regular reports on status that gave me ideas on new approaches for them to try. I was grateful for the mental activity, for during these long months, I discovered just how much I had actually enjoyed my job and now missed working. I mentioned to Sydney one day that he'd told me when we first met that the Centre employed research chemists - and then watched his face grow very pale. I had to assure him repeatedly then that I'd never go apply for a job there without talking to him first. Even Miss Parker wasn't too thrilled either when I mentioned it to her at our next private chat. I can't imagine why either of these people would continue to work at that place if they truly hate it so much!
Finally, there was Joe, the sweeper that Miss Parker had staying with me during the day while Sydney was at work, the sweeper who arrived on my doorstep the very morning after we settled our difficulties with Miss Parker. I didn't question her later about why she wanted him here, nor did I ask him much about it either. All I knew was that Sydney's tension about my having to try to defend myself against Mr. Lyle had decreased considerably the moment Joe explained who he was and who had sent him. And with that, Joe became my weekday shadow.
Even Mr. Lyle evidently finally got the hint that I was off-limits - after his abortive attempt to get into my house when Miss Parker ran interference for me, he did try once more. But then he saw Joe, just standing quietly behind me as I held the door half-open, and he suddenly had something else to do - and it had been weeks now since I'd seen hide or hair of him anywhere in the neighborhood. Joe was quiet and unobtrusive, played a fairly mean game of both cribbage and backgammon, and with Sydney's approval firmly insisted on being my chauffeur for whenever I needed to go out. If Sydney couldn't make my doctor's appointment in Dover with me, Joe drove me in and waited in the lobby for me. If I wanted to go shopping, Joe got me to the stores and back without complaint - no matter how many sacks he had to carry in from the car for me afterwards. As the weeks passed, I genuinely came to like Joe - and even Sydney was getting used to having him included in an evening meal sometimes.
I was enjoying my new life - each day held something interesting and different, a far change from the years of the same day-to-day grind of working and sitting at home alone. The happiest day by far, however, was the day that I first felt my baby move. I was preparing dinner the night after my latest doctor's exam, stirring a pot of creamed vegetables, when the tiniest flutter in my lower abdomen caught my attention. I might not have paid it much attention but that, after a moment, I felt it again. I turned off the burner immediately so that my supper wouldn't burn while I stood very, very still and waited until... there it was again!
Sydney walked through the door at that moment and halted at the look on my face. "Are you OK? Is there something wrong with the baby?" His questions were almost frantic.
I put my arms around him and held him. "Nothing's wrong. I just felt our peanut move for the first time, and I wanted to make sure I wasn't dreaming."
He pushed himself away from my embrace, his eyes glowing and his face breaking into that wide and even smile that I loved so much. "Really?" he breathed, looking down my body to my stomach that at the time was only barely beginning to show my condition. He spread his big hand across my full lower abdomen reverently, obviously hoping for a similar experience.
"I don't know that you'd be able to feel it yet, sweetheart," I told him, wishing it could be different. "Our peanut will have to get a little bigger yet before that happens."
If I had expected him to be disappointed, his grabbing me and kissing me deeply and very completely quickly disabused me of my mistake. God, that man's kisses still could make my legs turn to rubber. His arms closed around my waist and lifted me in the air, and I giggled as I put my arms around his neck to steady myself and kissed him again myself. "You're sure?" he demanded.
I nodded with a huge smile on my face. "That's why I was standing so still. I felt it more than once." The reality of my condition had finally been brought home in a way I couldn't rationalize away. I had a new life growing inside me, and it had finally made its presence known. "I love you," I told him with as much emotion as I could.
"God I love you," he replied fervently and kissed me again. It was a good thing that we weren't having company that night, because my dinner sat three-quarters finished on the stove for a while before either of us could muster any interest in food instead of one another.
That was three weeks ago. A week and a half ago, Sydney and I were just snuggling in bed after he'd put in a long and tiring day bringing that study on the effects of one twin surviving another to a conclusion. He had his head on my shoulder as he so enjoyed doing as he would lay his hand across my belly, which was showing my condition more and more as every day went by, and talk to his son or daughter, sharing his hopes and dreams for him or her. Tonight, however, he was just resting and enjoying the closeness we shared. Then, apparently, our peanut decided to wake up and begin raising hell, for all of a sudden I felt a slightly stronger kick than usual - and I felt Sydney grew very still and attentive. His head slipped down onto my breast as he moved closer and began paying closer attention... and then felt it again.
His face as he looked up into mine was beyond happy, and his dark honey eyes were absolutely glowing from within. "I felt it!" he whispered, as if afraid speaking louder would disrupt the moment.
"Our peanut is saying hello to daddy for the first time," I smiled at him. "About time, don't you think?"
I felt another flip-flop and knew he did too. His eyes filled with tears and he lay his head down on the growing bulge, kissing it gently. "Your father loves you very much," he whispered to our child, and I reached down and stroked his hair as he embraced our child as best he could. My heart filled, watching this man enjoy every moment of his child's development. I couldn't help but remember the blasé way Jake had taken my pregnancy with Rene - or his frustration when I had become pregnant again - and thanked my stars or whatever else had directed my fate into the gentle keeping of my Delaware shrink.
"I'm going to spend a little time with your Mom now," he announced to the bulge in my tummy, "so I would like very much if you would behave yourself now for a while." Our peanut truly was listening to him, apparently, for there was another soft push, and then quiet.
"Such obedience, at such a young age," I quipped as he rose and came back up next to me on his pillow with warm, smoldering eyes.
"Such a gift you are giving me," he replied, then kissed me softly and wrapped his arms around my waist. "Have I told you lately how much I love you?"
I sighed as his large hands began to stroke and caress me in a way that he knew all too well would arouse me. "I like it when you show me too," I breathed as he started to help relieve me of my nightgown and began to caress me with much more obvious intent.
He then made tender and shatteringly sweet love to me that had us both calling out to each other in soft voices. And after, I found my comfortable spot on his shoulder after feeling him give my belly a gentle pat and a "Thank you for your patience," aimed at our peanut, who stirred very softly in a way that I knew only I could feel. As I went to sleep, I dreamed of walking down a street with Sydney and a beautiful little dark-haired girl dancing between us. I will never be able to say how I knew, or why I was so certain that I knew, but at that moment I felt like my new daughter had introduced herself to me.
A little less than a week later, Miss Parker decided that the time had come for me to get a more comfortable wardrobe to accommodate my growing girth. With Sydney's complete agreement, she drove us into Dover on a Saturday morning, whereupon we spent a most enjoyable and delightful day shopping and window-shopping. I discovered that my new friend was also both generous and stubborn, for although I chose the garments I thought I would need to get me through the next few months, her idea of what constituted a reasonable wardrobe and mine were very different. By the time we walked out of the Stork's Nest, there was one extra and sizeable bag that I hadn't purchased but still now possessed.
In that extra bag was included a beautiful caftan that she wouldn't hear of me putting back and then bought herself when I did it anyway - along with several other items I'd liked but then set back as either extravagant or superfluous. I didn't have the heart to say no when I saw the delight she was getting from this entire adventure. In many ways, I was starting to think I was in the middle of adopting yet another daughter who was determined to pamper me shamelessly whether I wanted it or not. To be honest, I didn't mind it in the least - I was growing very fond of her too.
At lunch over salads, I mentioned to her about my odd dream. To my surprise, she only nodded sagely. "Sydney is... special... you know," she told me carefully, watching my reaction. "It only stands to reason that his child would be special too."
"Special?" I asked, now curious. "In what way?"
"I don't know if had to do with him being a twin, or just what," she started, "but he has a way of just... knowing things. My mother had it too - and she went to Sydney and asked him to help her develop it, and he did... I guess." She looked sad. "Then, when I couldn't ignore it anymore, I asked him to help me too. He did, but..."
"But..." I urged, putting my hand on hers.
"But as time went on, I learned to shut it down rather than use it," she finished quietly. "So much of what I was... learning... was painful..."
"What does this have to do with MY dream?" I didn't want her to hurt anymore, so tried to move it back to a slightly safer topic.
"Do you ever just... know things?" she asked, her beautiful grey eyes looking into mine with curiosity and caution.
I nodded. "Sometimes..." I admitted, "but it usually had to do with Caryn, my twin sister..."
She shook her head. "Even so, you have it too – that “inner sense.” I can't help but think that any child of two people who have that sense would share it as well." She tossed her head and deliberately smiled widely, throwing off the somber nature of our talk. "That means maybe she'll give you her name in time - I'm sure she's going to get tired of being called “Peanut”..."
That made me chuckle. "I don't think Sydney will ever call her anything else except in very formal settings where “Peanut” would be inappropriate."
"Oh, I'm sure Peanut will stick as a nickname," she hastened to assure me. "But I'll bet you that “Peanut” knows what she wants to be called otherwise." She rose. "I need to duck into the ladies' room for a moment. I'll be right back."
I watched her head to the back end of the fairly full coffee shop, her very presence drawing the attention of almost every male eye in the place, and I smiled. I was looking forward to introducing her to Rene - their fierce independent streaks being something in common that I hoped would help them forge a friendship.
"I never knew Miss Parker to be a person one could just run around and girl-talk with..." a decidedly deep and gentle man's voice spoke from behind me to my right, and then a very tall and good looking dark-haired man moved into my line of vision.
My eyes widened as I recognized the speaker - the features of Sydney's other “son” were unmistakable. I'd seen his photo often enough when I dusted the mantle. "Jarod!" I breathed, and then watched his eyes widen in surprise.
"Do I know you?" he demanded, his gaze rising in an obvious attempt to see whether Miss Parker was returning as yet.
"No, but my husband knows you very well," I replied. I held out my hand. "I'm Catherine, Sydney's wife."
"Sydney's not married," he told me flatly, his eyes sweeping me from head to toe and pausing meaningfully as he saw my belly. He raised incredibly dark and distrusting eyes to mine.
I put my hand protectively over the mound that was our daughter. "Maybe not the last time you talked to him, but he is now - and as you can see, he's going to be a father." I smiled at this young man in what I hoped would be a comforting way. "You've not been in contact with him for a long time. Things have changed for him, a great deal."
"After all this time..." he said, his head half-turned sideways in continuing distrust and disbelief. "But what about Michelle?"
I shook my head. "She decided she preferred her life in Albany," I told him gently. "But I'm expecting Nicholas down for a visit sometime in May, I think."
"But..." I could tell that I had the kind of ready information that told him that I was at the very least familiar with intimate details of Sydney's private life - something that a wife could be expected to have. Then his head rose quickly, and he suddenly turned and walked away. I turned my eyes to where he had looked and saw Miss Parker heading back in my direction.
I sighed. Here was another of my husband's “children” equally unable to wrap his mind around the change that my presence constituted in Sydney's situation. I watched Miss Parker thread her way through the tables toward me and wondered if it would take a similarly difficult resolution to make peace with Jarod as it had with her. Then I pasted on a smile and dismissed the worrisome thought until later. I didn't want to detract at all from the otherwise delightful day I'd spent so far. "Surely you didn't come all the way into Dover just for me," I told her as she took her seat again. "So I figure now it's YOUR turn. Where do we go next?"
I got a bright and astonished smile out of her for that one, a smile that told me I'd hit just the right note. We each bent to finish our salads as we discussed the next item on our agenda of 'girl's day out'.
~~~~~~~~
We bought Chinese food to eat in on the way back, and then Miss Parker excused herself early in the evening with the excuse that she had tired me out and wanted to get out of the way in case I wanted to call it quits for the evening. After helping with the quick cleanup, Sydney retired back to his home office to finish up on some paperwork that he'd been putting off regarding an article he was having published. That left me to myself and, not really being as tired as was feared, I wandered out into the backyard to enjoy the crisp Spring evening.
Sydney had dragged some of his lawn furniture out of the storage shed the weekend before so that I could have a place to sit while he and the Broots' had played a raucus game of croquet. This night I took my mug of steaming tea with me out to one of those comfortable wooden lounge chairs and sat down and pulled my sweater close around my shoulders. The next day I had promised Julia I would look over a project proposal and make suggestions on how to write for the grant to fund it, so all I wanted to do after a full day of shopping was relax. I stretched my legs out fully on the lounge and cradled my tea on the bulge that was my peanut.
"I didn't believe you, you know."
Jarod's voice was soft, designed not to startle me too badly - and while my tea sloshed, it didn't spill. I looked over my shoulder to see him stepping out of the tall bushes near the gate in my fence. "I know," I told him as I settled back down. "I couldn't help that. I knew I was telling the truth - you would have to either believe me or come find out for yourself."
He looked down at me for a while, then took a seat at the bottom end of my lounge and stared out into the darkness for a while. I knew he wanted to talk, and I could be patient and wait for him - at least until my tea was gone and I started to get cold. "Are you and Sydney happy?" he asked suddenly.
"I like to think so," I answered. "I love him very much - he's very good to me. AND he's very excited about the baby."
A gentle smile spread across his face, a smile with plenty of wistfulness. "I always thought he'd make a good father."
"I would imagine you'd know that better than anybody."
He was quiet for a bit, and I found myself wondering just what was running through this young man's mind? "How far along are you?" He leaned and looked at me a little more carefully. "Eighteen weeks?"
I was surprised - Sydney hadn't told me he was a doctor. "No, sixteen. I didn't know you were a doctor..."
"I'm not... today..." he commented cryptically. "How's your blood pressure holding?"
"Fine." I sat up a little straighter. "Sydney's inside, you know..."
"I know."
"He'd probably be thrilled to see you - I take it you cut all contact with him quite a while ago. He's missed you."
Jarod shook his dark head in the fading light, returning his gaze to the sky at the back end of the yard. "I don't think so. Besides, he has enough to think about now, with you and the baby coming and giving him a real family - he doesn't need me..."
"Stop it."
The dark eyes beneath those dark brows came up and stared at me in shock. "I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me." I tucked my foot under me and sat up toward him. "Stop playing the martyr with me. If you don't want anything to do with Sydney because you two have some unresolved conflict between you, then at least be honest about it with yourself and me. But don't you dare try to lay your own unwillingness to talk to him on HIS shoulders, because I know damned well he would be thrilled to see you again."
"You don't know..." he started defensively, but I didn't give him a chance to finish.
"No, I don't know. And, to be honest, I don't care. Honesty is the issue here - and I'd prefer that to the bullshit you're trying to dish me." I glowered at him. "Trust me, I've been around the block a few times, and I DO know the difference." He seemed to shrink a bit, fold in on himself like a little boy whose bluff had been called. "What's going on here, Jarod? Maybe I can help..."
He finally peeked at me. "How much DO you know about me?"
"Not much, I'm afraid," I shook my head at him. "Sydney and Miss Parker and Broots seem to find it very important to protect me from whatever it is that goes on at that place they work at. What I DO know, however, is that the first time I saw your picture on his mantle next to Nicholas', I asked him if you were his other son - and he told me in so many words that sometimes he forgot you weren't his." I reached out to this hurting young man and put my hand on his forearm. "Look, I don't know what's happened between you, but I know that you're hurting because you think... what?... that he doesn't care?"
"He never said... he never let me think..." Jarod was struggling to explain himself to me.
"I think what you need to do is stop worrying about what he DIDN'T do in the past, and discover what he does think NOW, don't you?" I patted his forearm gently. "And you know as well as I do that you aren't going to find out what he thinks now by sitting out here with me. You need to go in there." I pointed over my shoulder at the house. "He's in his office."
He looked up and over my shoulder at the house very longingly. "Go on," I urged him. "I'll be either out here or off to bed, so I won't get in your way."
"You know," he began without having moved yet, "I can imagine that you DO make him very happy. I'm glad he found you, and congratulations on your baby."
I smiled. Evidently I'd finally passed muster with him. "Thank you, Jarod. Stop by on your way out, if I'm still up. And in case I don't see you before you leave, don't be a stranger. You'll always be welcome here, as long as I have anything to say about it."
He stood. "You say your name's Catherine?"
I looked up at him. "My friends call me Cathy. Miss Parker does."
"Well, in case I don't see you before I leave, it was an honor meeting you, Cathy," he said and held out his hand to me, "and I'm sorry I didn't shake your hand in the café."
I shook hands with him and then patted his hand with my other one. "Go on now," I urged again. "Just knock on the door so he isn't startled. You know how he gets when he's doing paperwork..."
Jarod gave me an understanding and twisted little smirk, patted my hand back, and then walked slowly through my back door.
I could have gone to bed right then and there, but I knew better. I knew I knew better. And so I pulled my sweater closer and waited, knowing that I had done all I could to help another of Sydney's “children” find their way home, but needed to be around when the other shoe fell. When my tea was gone, however, I couldn't see sitting out in the cold. I went into the kitchen and set the teakettle on again and found another tea bag for my mug. Then I sat down at the table and waited again.
For a while, I began to wonder whether I could last until the two of them had finished. Another hour had passed, and my third mug of tea was long finished by the time I heard the door to the office open and the sound of voices in the hallway. Jarod's deep tones sounded tired but relieved, and my husband's tired and soothing. "No, the light is still on in the kitchen," I heard Sydney say, and then the steps came closer. "There she is."
I turned. Jarod's eyes were a little red, and his face looked very tired - but I think what made my heart sit up and sing was the fact that my husband had his hand very firmly on the younger man's shoulder and seemed to be guiding him into the kitchen. "Is there enough hot water for a little more tea, Cat?" Sydney asked me quietly.
"There will be soon enough," I rose to my feet and took the teakettle over to the sink for refilling. When I finished, I turned and looked at my husband. He looked tired too, tired and as if he'd been put through something very painful. "Are you alright?" I asked him with an accusing glance at Jarod.
"Don't blame him," Sydney defended the younger man immediately. "This was a talk that we've needed to have for a very long time." I noted that Sydney's hand hadn't moved from Jarod's shoulder, but rather tightened briefly. "He could use a place to land for the night, though. I was wondering if you'd mind if I put him on the couch in my office?"
"I don't mean to intrude." Jarod's voice was rough, and he was having a hard time looking me in the eye.
"Hey." I moved and put my own hand on his arm below my husband's evidently reassuring hand, and he turned those very tired, dark eyes to me. "I told you that you'd be welcome in my house anytime. I meant it. Of course I don't mind you crashing on the office couch. I'll get you a pillow and some blankets."
"Is there anything left of supper?" Sydney asked.
I looked at Jarod again. Yes, perhaps some of that fatigue could be simple hunger. "There's some meat for sandwiches in a plastic bag, and some salad in the crisper drawer."
"You don't have to do that," Jarod looked up at my husband. "Sydney, it's OK..."
"Yes I do," I heard Sydney say to him in a very soft voice that I had only heard him use before with me or with Miss Parker. "Please let me help you." He looked up at me, and I almost caught my breath at the longing in his dark honeyed eyes, the plea for reinforcement.
"Jarod, let us help you," I added my voice to Sydney's. "You're family, after all." I saw Sydney nod, even though Jarod glanced at me as if I'd shocked him again. "You're tired, and you look like you've been run ragged. You're safe here."
The dark eyes flitted between Sydney's face and mine, and then Jarod nodded. "OK."
I patted Sydney's arm. "I'll just go put some linens on the office couch and be right back," I told him, and Sydney bent to kiss my cheek before I left.
"You love her." Jarod's voice followed me into the hallway.
"Yes, very much." I smiled at the love in my husband's tired voice.
"She's very beautiful." I smiled even wider as I turned to start up the stairs. Jarod could be as much of a charmer as his “father,” it seemed. Then: "She suits you."
"I don't know what ever I did without her." With that, I decided to stop listening and hurried the rest of the way up the steps to set together the linens.
~~~~~~~~
We fed Jarod, and he ate as if he felt guilty that he was hungry and taking our food. I made a whole pot of tea this time, and Sydney and I sat with him at the table after he'd finished eating, watching the tea warm him physically while we did our level best to warm him emotionally. All pretense of independence had slipped from his posture, as if finally too heavy for him to carry anymore. He was like a puppy who'd been whipped one too many times, and I could see that Sydney was worried about him. I worried too.
We escorted him up the stairs and put him to bed, and then retired ourselves - and that was when Sydney fell apart. In all the time I'd known him, my husband had been the strength I had leaned on. That night, the tables were turned. He lay against my shoulder and sobbed, and finally began to speak - as if holding everything in were beyond him anymore.
At long last, he told me about Jarod - of how they had met, how he had believed what the Centre told him about the boy, how he had struggled not to show the boy he cared for all those years in order to protect them both from being separated despite loving as if he were his own, how he hadn't been able to protect him well enough against those determined to perpetrate horrific evils on that intelligent and trapped young man. He told me of how the Centre had manipulated his life to keep his focus finely fixed on his work with Jarod - how Jacob had been removed because of his plotting with Miss Parker's mother, how Michelle had been convinced to leave when she became pregnant with Nicholas, how yet another associate had been removed when even that relationship began to hold potential for something more. He told me of how he and Broots and Miss Parker had been assigned to recapture Jarod when he escaped so many years ago, of how he'd quietly helped Jarod remain free as a subtle way of atoning for all those years he'd stood by and allowed Jarod's virtual imprisonment, of how Jarod had slowly uncovered all the evidence of what had been done to them all over the years, and finally of how dangerous it could be for us to give Jarod refuge that night.
He spoke for a very long time, often while struggling to suppress sobbing, and I could hear the recrimination in his voice, the sadness, the horror and guilt at what he'd been a part of, at his blindness and then weakness to prevent or put an end to any of it. He had told me when I first came to Delaware to stay that he'd been part of something he wasn't proud of - something monstrous - now I knew exactly what he meant. And I held him as he cried, knowing beyond a doubt that the man I'd fallen in love with was no longer capable of such things. I also no longer questioned why Broots and Miss Parker and he were so determined to keep me safe from Lyle and the machinations of the Centre. I held him close and let him know with soothing words and caresses that I still loved him dearly despite the nightmare he'd dumped into my ear until he finally fell asleep in my arms, spent but I hoped purged of all need to keep secrets from me any longer.
Of course, the time came when I had to rise to take care of bathroom needs. Our peanut was learning that bladders were fun things to play with, especially in the middle of the night. As I came out of the bathroom, I thought I could hear voices out in the house. I stuck my head out the door and discovered that what I though had been voices was but one voice and coming from the office. I slipped down the hallway as quietly as I could and knocked softly at the door, then peeked my head in when I received no reply.
Jarod's bed on the couch was in complete disarray - he was thrashing about in the throes of what must have been a horrific nightmare. I came into the room and sat down next to him on the couch and captured his swinging hands in mine and called to him until finally, with a jerk, he pulled himself free and awoke. His eyes were wide and frightened, and I could see it was taking a little while for him to recognize me in my gown and robe. Finally, though, he seemed to relax a bit - perhaps finally waking enough to know where he was.
"I'm sorry I disturbed your rest," he whispered, his face twisted in chagrin and obviously struggling against tears.
"You didn't," I assured him, letting go of his hands. "I heard noises in here and got nosy. Are you OK? That looked like quite a nightmare..." My heart went out to him. "What's wrong?"
I think he would have tried to reassure me to get rid of me, to pretend to be strong and put on a stiff upper lip, but I reached out and stroked his hair with my hand the way I used to when Rene would have her nightmares - and suddenly I had Jarod falling apart in front of me. I opened my arms to my husband's “son” and suddenly had his head pillowed on my shoulder - the same shoulder that had been drenched with Sydney's tears only hours earlier. "I'm sorry," he choked at me, his arms looping around me loosely.
"Hush," I soothed and held him tightly. "There's nothing to be sorry for." He trembled and struggled against his emotions for a long time while I just held onto him. Like Miss Parker, he was hungry - desperate - for the kind of demonstration of simple affection that they both had been denied for one reason or another. I could only hope that when he had talked with Sydney that they had worked out whatever it was between them that had caused the both of them so much pain, because Jarod's tears were silent and agonized ones. I didn't ask for, and he didn't offer, an explanation. It was enough that he was allowing me to offer him comfort and accepting it.
Finally he sat up and wiped at his eyes with the palms of his hands, peeking at me with a sheepish look on his face. "You must think..."
"What I DO think is that you've probably needed that for a very long time," I hastened to interrupt him, and then went with my gut feeling and kissed him gently on the cheek. "We all need to lean from time to time, Jarod. It's not a crime."
"I think..." he started, then paused and thought. "I hope..." He had the face of a lost and heartbroken little boy. "Do you think my mom would be... like that too - not be disappointed...?"
"I'm sure she is, sweetheart," I soothed him, patting his cheek and wiping away one or two errant tears. I let him settle with a sigh on my shoulder again and held him close. "You'll find her, Jarod, and you'll see."
~~~~~~~~
From what Sydney had told me, I fully expected the house to be empty except for the two of us when I got up in the morning - but I was pleasantly surprised to find Jarod in my kitchen, calmly cooking breakfast for the three of us. I was astonished and more than a little touched to be the recipient of a very shy kiss on the cheek and fleeting hug before being shown the pot of tea he'd already made for me. Then Sydney shuffled into the kitchen carrying the Sunday paper, sniffing the scent-filled appreciatively, and stopped cold at the sight of me sipping my tea at the table while Jarod fussed at the stove.
The surprise in his voice was palpable. "Jarod! You're..."
"Good morning, Sydney," he replied with an easy smile and then a bear hug for my husband that took Sydney past surprise and into shock. "Get some coffee and sit down - this is almost ready."
This morning was a respite for all of us, a rare and precious moment of togetherness and peace with this remarkable and resilient young man. I smiled and held out a hand to my husband as he joined me at the table, and together we chatted quietly and amicably with Jarod as he served us breakfast. The feeling of family cohesiveness grew steadily through that gentle and unpressured morning, and I found myself wishing that such moments could happen more often - for Jarod's sake as much as for Sydney's.
I knew better. I knew I knew better. And so I watched and listened and participated in the morning, mindful that I would have to keep this memory more carefully than most of my others.
Spring was indeed coming to Delaware. Slowly and so very carefully, Sydney was having a family bloom around him after a long winter of loneliness - and I was finding myself blooming right along with them.
I smiled and held my hand over the bulge that was our somersaulting unborn daughter. It was about time - for all of us.
Chapter 4: Movement
Winter in Delaware can drag on almost as long as it does at home - but I've begun to see signs of Spring at long last.
The months of almost enforced quiet were good for me though - at least, that's what my doctor kept telling me. My health had been surprisingly good, almost in direct contradiction to what I had so feared would be my fate should I attempt to have another child, much less attempt it at this late date. My morning sickness, as I had predicted, was a first-trimester obstacle. Almost the day I entered my thirteenth week, everything cleared up and my appetite finally returned. The doctor was thrilled - at last I stopped losing weight and began to gain.
I talked to Rene frequently and commented on how different this pregnancy was from both of my others, and my darling and all-too-smart med-school daughter kept telling me it was because I was finally completely happy. Maybe she was right - but I knew I'd be a lot happier when she took her Spring Break and came home to me. To us. Sydney's impending fatherhood had given him the courage to reach out to my daughter as a father, and I knew that Rene was thrilled to have an honorable man playing that role in her life at last.
I wondered what I had ever done with myself before I met Sydney - he had taken my life and turned it upside down and made it so much better. I loved him with a passion and a completeness I'd never known in my previous marriage. He understood me and I understood him in ways that only people who are twins could, and it drew us closer in a very special way. I think that having had that close twin-bond already opened for us before had given us the opportunity to refocus that connection with each other in an almost psychic way. I don't think I could ever again live without him in my life - I would be completely lost.
At long last, I had acquired real friends - good friends at that, rather than just work acquaintances - for Sydney's friends had made me theirs as well. I saw Debbie Broots often to tutor her in Chemistry, and many of those sessions included at least one if not more of her friends taking the same class. I found that I had a knack for getting some of the more difficult concepts of the math across, and I inevitably enjoyed myself immensely in the company of these delightful young people. Broots and Debbie and Sydney and I had gotten close enough that we had at least one meal each week where Broots and Deb were at our house and another where Sydney and I were at theirs.
Then there was Miss Parker. After an incredibly difficult introduction, I'd been surprised and Sydney outright astounded at the amount of time she chose to spend with us. From what Sydney told me, she had never had very much to do with him socially prior to our marriage - despite the fact that she obviously looked on my husband as a father-figure. That changed quickly once that initial difficulty was settled. We saw her almost as often as we saw Broots - and every once in a while our house seemed to swell as we would host a dinner with both the Broots' and Miss Parker together. However, Miss Parker had made a point of first apologizing to Debbie for her inexcusable behavior - and I think I was the only one to see how important it was to the woman that she be forgiven by the younger female in our little group.
What was more, she occasionally began to take advantage of the afternoons she knew that Deb and her friends weren't coming, and she would arrive with some small offering to go with my afternoon tea - and then we talked. I was sure Sydney suspected, but I knew he'd approve had he known. I didn't think that poor girl had had another woman she'd felt comfortable enough to talk to for a very long time. After a few of these visits I suspected that I'd started to play a surrogate mother role for her just as Sydney had become a surrogate father over the years. I decided I really didn't mind, for as I had suspected, there was a tender and very sentimental soul that had been hiding quite successfully behind that prickly exterior - one that so hesitantly was beginning to feel safe in making itself known from time to time.
I hadn't thought it would happen, but people from back home hadn't completely given up on me either. Julia hadn't been able to find another chemist to take my place, and so I started doing some long-distance consulting work for her on her newest project. Jim and I spoke by phone at least once a week for updates, and I got regular reports on status that gave me ideas on new approaches for them to try. I was grateful for the mental activity, for during these long months, I discovered just how much I had actually enjoyed my job and now missed working. I mentioned to Sydney one day that he'd told me when we first met that the Centre employed research chemists - and then watched his face grow very pale. I had to assure him repeatedly then that I'd never go apply for a job there without talking to him first. Even Miss Parker wasn't too thrilled either when I mentioned it to her at our next private chat. I can't imagine why either of these people would continue to work at that place if they truly hate it so much!
Finally, there was Joe, the sweeper that Miss Parker had staying with me during the day while Sydney was at work, the sweeper who arrived on my doorstep the very morning after we settled our difficulties with Miss Parker. I didn't question her later about why she wanted him here, nor did I ask him much about it either. All I knew was that Sydney's tension about my having to try to defend myself against Mr. Lyle had decreased considerably the moment Joe explained who he was and who had sent him. And with that, Joe became my weekday shadow.
Even Mr. Lyle evidently finally got the hint that I was off-limits - after his abortive attempt to get into my house when Miss Parker ran interference for me, he did try once more. But then he saw Joe, just standing quietly behind me as I held the door half-open, and he suddenly had something else to do - and it had been weeks now since I'd seen hide or hair of him anywhere in the neighborhood. Joe was quiet and unobtrusive, played a fairly mean game of both cribbage and backgammon, and with Sydney's approval firmly insisted on being my chauffeur for whenever I needed to go out. If Sydney couldn't make my doctor's appointment in Dover with me, Joe drove me in and waited in the lobby for me. If I wanted to go shopping, Joe got me to the stores and back without complaint - no matter how many sacks he had to carry in from the car for me afterwards. As the weeks passed, I genuinely came to like Joe - and even Sydney was getting used to having him included in an evening meal sometimes.
I was enjoying my new life - each day held something interesting and different, a far change from the years of the same day-to-day grind of working and sitting at home alone. The happiest day by far, however, was the day that I first felt my baby move. I was preparing dinner the night after my latest doctor's exam, stirring a pot of creamed vegetables, when the tiniest flutter in my lower abdomen caught my attention. I might not have paid it much attention but that, after a moment, I felt it again. I turned off the burner immediately so that my supper wouldn't burn while I stood very, very still and waited until... there it was again!
Sydney walked through the door at that moment and halted at the look on my face. "Are you OK? Is there something wrong with the baby?" His questions were almost frantic.
I put my arms around him and held him. "Nothing's wrong. I just felt our peanut move for the first time, and I wanted to make sure I wasn't dreaming."
He pushed himself away from my embrace, his eyes glowing and his face breaking into that wide and even smile that I loved so much. "Really?" he breathed, looking down my body to my stomach that at the time was only barely beginning to show my condition. He spread his big hand across my full lower abdomen reverently, obviously hoping for a similar experience.
"I don't know that you'd be able to feel it yet, sweetheart," I told him, wishing it could be different. "Our peanut will have to get a little bigger yet before that happens."
If I had expected him to be disappointed, his grabbing me and kissing me deeply and very completely quickly disabused me of my mistake. God, that man's kisses still could make my legs turn to rubber. His arms closed around my waist and lifted me in the air, and I giggled as I put my arms around his neck to steady myself and kissed him again myself. "You're sure?" he demanded.
I nodded with a huge smile on my face. "That's why I was standing so still. I felt it more than once." The reality of my condition had finally been brought home in a way I couldn't rationalize away. I had a new life growing inside me, and it had finally made its presence known. "I love you," I told him with as much emotion as I could.
"God I love you," he replied fervently and kissed me again. It was a good thing that we weren't having company that night, because my dinner sat three-quarters finished on the stove for a while before either of us could muster any interest in food instead of one another.
That was three weeks ago. A week and a half ago, Sydney and I were just snuggling in bed after he'd put in a long and tiring day bringing that study on the effects of one twin surviving another to a conclusion. He had his head on my shoulder as he so enjoyed doing as he would lay his hand across my belly, which was showing my condition more and more as every day went by, and talk to his son or daughter, sharing his hopes and dreams for him or her. Tonight, however, he was just resting and enjoying the closeness we shared. Then, apparently, our peanut decided to wake up and begin raising hell, for all of a sudden I felt a slightly stronger kick than usual - and I felt Sydney grew very still and attentive. His head slipped down onto my breast as he moved closer and began paying closer attention... and then felt it again.
His face as he looked up into mine was beyond happy, and his dark honey eyes were absolutely glowing from within. "I felt it!" he whispered, as if afraid speaking louder would disrupt the moment.
"Our peanut is saying hello to daddy for the first time," I smiled at him. "About time, don't you think?"
I felt another flip-flop and knew he did too. His eyes filled with tears and he lay his head down on the growing bulge, kissing it gently. "Your father loves you very much," he whispered to our child, and I reached down and stroked his hair as he embraced our child as best he could. My heart filled, watching this man enjoy every moment of his child's development. I couldn't help but remember the blasé way Jake had taken my pregnancy with Rene - or his frustration when I had become pregnant again - and thanked my stars or whatever else had directed my fate into the gentle keeping of my Delaware shrink.
"I'm going to spend a little time with your Mom now," he announced to the bulge in my tummy, "so I would like very much if you would behave yourself now for a while." Our peanut truly was listening to him, apparently, for there was another soft push, and then quiet.
"Such obedience, at such a young age," I quipped as he rose and came back up next to me on his pillow with warm, smoldering eyes.
"Such a gift you are giving me," he replied, then kissed me softly and wrapped his arms around my waist. "Have I told you lately how much I love you?"
I sighed as his large hands began to stroke and caress me in a way that he knew all too well would arouse me. "I like it when you show me too," I breathed as he started to help relieve me of my nightgown and began to caress me with much more obvious intent.
He then made tender and shatteringly sweet love to me that had us both calling out to each other in soft voices. And after, I found my comfortable spot on his shoulder after feeling him give my belly a gentle pat and a "Thank you for your patience," aimed at our peanut, who stirred very softly in a way that I knew only I could feel. As I went to sleep, I dreamed of walking down a street with Sydney and a beautiful little dark-haired girl dancing between us. I will never be able to say how I knew, or why I was so certain that I knew, but at that moment I felt like my new daughter had introduced herself to me.
A little less than a week later, Miss Parker decided that the time had come for me to get a more comfortable wardrobe to accommodate my growing girth. With Sydney's complete agreement, she drove us into Dover on a Saturday morning, whereupon we spent a most enjoyable and delightful day shopping and window-shopping. I discovered that my new friend was also both generous and stubborn, for although I chose the garments I thought I would need to get me through the next few months, her idea of what constituted a reasonable wardrobe and mine were very different. By the time we walked out of the Stork's Nest, there was one extra and sizeable bag that I hadn't purchased but still now possessed.
In that extra bag was included a beautiful caftan that she wouldn't hear of me putting back and then bought herself when I did it anyway - along with several other items I'd liked but then set back as either extravagant or superfluous. I didn't have the heart to say no when I saw the delight she was getting from this entire adventure. In many ways, I was starting to think I was in the middle of adopting yet another daughter who was determined to pamper me shamelessly whether I wanted it or not. To be honest, I didn't mind it in the least - I was growing very fond of her too.
At lunch over salads, I mentioned to her about my odd dream. To my surprise, she only nodded sagely. "Sydney is... special... you know," she told me carefully, watching my reaction. "It only stands to reason that his child would be special too."
"Special?" I asked, now curious. "In what way?"
"I don't know if had to do with him being a twin, or just what," she started, "but he has a way of just... knowing things. My mother had it too - and she went to Sydney and asked him to help her develop it, and he did... I guess." She looked sad. "Then, when I couldn't ignore it anymore, I asked him to help me too. He did, but..."
"But..." I urged, putting my hand on hers.
"But as time went on, I learned to shut it down rather than use it," she finished quietly. "So much of what I was... learning... was painful..."
"What does this have to do with MY dream?" I didn't want her to hurt anymore, so tried to move it back to a slightly safer topic.
"Do you ever just... know things?" she asked, her beautiful grey eyes looking into mine with curiosity and caution.
I nodded. "Sometimes..." I admitted, "but it usually had to do with Caryn, my twin sister..."
She shook her head. "Even so, you have it too – that “inner sense.” I can't help but think that any child of two people who have that sense would share it as well." She tossed her head and deliberately smiled widely, throwing off the somber nature of our talk. "That means maybe she'll give you her name in time - I'm sure she's going to get tired of being called “Peanut”..."
That made me chuckle. "I don't think Sydney will ever call her anything else except in very formal settings where “Peanut” would be inappropriate."
"Oh, I'm sure Peanut will stick as a nickname," she hastened to assure me. "But I'll bet you that “Peanut” knows what she wants to be called otherwise." She rose. "I need to duck into the ladies' room for a moment. I'll be right back."
I watched her head to the back end of the fairly full coffee shop, her very presence drawing the attention of almost every male eye in the place, and I smiled. I was looking forward to introducing her to Rene - their fierce independent streaks being something in common that I hoped would help them forge a friendship.
"I never knew Miss Parker to be a person one could just run around and girl-talk with..." a decidedly deep and gentle man's voice spoke from behind me to my right, and then a very tall and good looking dark-haired man moved into my line of vision.
My eyes widened as I recognized the speaker - the features of Sydney's other “son” were unmistakable. I'd seen his photo often enough when I dusted the mantle. "Jarod!" I breathed, and then watched his eyes widen in surprise.
"Do I know you?" he demanded, his gaze rising in an obvious attempt to see whether Miss Parker was returning as yet.
"No, but my husband knows you very well," I replied. I held out my hand. "I'm Catherine, Sydney's wife."
"Sydney's not married," he told me flatly, his eyes sweeping me from head to toe and pausing meaningfully as he saw my belly. He raised incredibly dark and distrusting eyes to mine.
I put my hand protectively over the mound that was our daughter. "Maybe not the last time you talked to him, but he is now - and as you can see, he's going to be a father." I smiled at this young man in what I hoped would be a comforting way. "You've not been in contact with him for a long time. Things have changed for him, a great deal."
"After all this time..." he said, his head half-turned sideways in continuing distrust and disbelief. "But what about Michelle?"
I shook my head. "She decided she preferred her life in Albany," I told him gently. "But I'm expecting Nicholas down for a visit sometime in May, I think."
"But..." I could tell that I had the kind of ready information that told him that I was at the very least familiar with intimate details of Sydney's private life - something that a wife could be expected to have. Then his head rose quickly, and he suddenly turned and walked away. I turned my eyes to where he had looked and saw Miss Parker heading back in my direction.
I sighed. Here was another of my husband's “children” equally unable to wrap his mind around the change that my presence constituted in Sydney's situation. I watched Miss Parker thread her way through the tables toward me and wondered if it would take a similarly difficult resolution to make peace with Jarod as it had with her. Then I pasted on a smile and dismissed the worrisome thought until later. I didn't want to detract at all from the otherwise delightful day I'd spent so far. "Surely you didn't come all the way into Dover just for me," I told her as she took her seat again. "So I figure now it's YOUR turn. Where do we go next?"
I got a bright and astonished smile out of her for that one, a smile that told me I'd hit just the right note. We each bent to finish our salads as we discussed the next item on our agenda of 'girl's day out'.
~~~~~~~~
We bought Chinese food to eat in on the way back, and then Miss Parker excused herself early in the evening with the excuse that she had tired me out and wanted to get out of the way in case I wanted to call it quits for the evening. After helping with the quick cleanup, Sydney retired back to his home office to finish up on some paperwork that he'd been putting off regarding an article he was having published. That left me to myself and, not really being as tired as was feared, I wandered out into the backyard to enjoy the crisp Spring evening.
Sydney had dragged some of his lawn furniture out of the storage shed the weekend before so that I could have a place to sit while he and the Broots' had played a raucus game of croquet. This night I took my mug of steaming tea with me out to one of those comfortable wooden lounge chairs and sat down and pulled my sweater close around my shoulders. The next day I had promised Julia I would look over a project proposal and make suggestions on how to write for the grant to fund it, so all I wanted to do after a full day of shopping was relax. I stretched my legs out fully on the lounge and cradled my tea on the bulge that was my peanut.
"I didn't believe you, you know."
Jarod's voice was soft, designed not to startle me too badly - and while my tea sloshed, it didn't spill. I looked over my shoulder to see him stepping out of the tall bushes near the gate in my fence. "I know," I told him as I settled back down. "I couldn't help that. I knew I was telling the truth - you would have to either believe me or come find out for yourself."
He looked down at me for a while, then took a seat at the bottom end of my lounge and stared out into the darkness for a while. I knew he wanted to talk, and I could be patient and wait for him - at least until my tea was gone and I started to get cold. "Are you and Sydney happy?" he asked suddenly.
"I like to think so," I answered. "I love him very much - he's very good to me. AND he's very excited about the baby."
A gentle smile spread across his face, a smile with plenty of wistfulness. "I always thought he'd make a good father."
"I would imagine you'd know that better than anybody."
He was quiet for a bit, and I found myself wondering just what was running through this young man's mind? "How far along are you?" He leaned and looked at me a little more carefully. "Eighteen weeks?"
I was surprised - Sydney hadn't told me he was a doctor. "No, sixteen. I didn't know you were a doctor..."
"I'm not... today..." he commented cryptically. "How's your blood pressure holding?"
"Fine." I sat up a little straighter. "Sydney's inside, you know..."
"I know."
"He'd probably be thrilled to see you - I take it you cut all contact with him quite a while ago. He's missed you."
Jarod shook his dark head in the fading light, returning his gaze to the sky at the back end of the yard. "I don't think so. Besides, he has enough to think about now, with you and the baby coming and giving him a real family - he doesn't need me..."
"Stop it."
The dark eyes beneath those dark brows came up and stared at me in shock. "I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me." I tucked my foot under me and sat up toward him. "Stop playing the martyr with me. If you don't want anything to do with Sydney because you two have some unresolved conflict between you, then at least be honest about it with yourself and me. But don't you dare try to lay your own unwillingness to talk to him on HIS shoulders, because I know damned well he would be thrilled to see you again."
"You don't know..." he started defensively, but I didn't give him a chance to finish.
"No, I don't know. And, to be honest, I don't care. Honesty is the issue here - and I'd prefer that to the bullshit you're trying to dish me." I glowered at him. "Trust me, I've been around the block a few times, and I DO know the difference." He seemed to shrink a bit, fold in on himself like a little boy whose bluff had been called. "What's going on here, Jarod? Maybe I can help..."
He finally peeked at me. "How much DO you know about me?"
"Not much, I'm afraid," I shook my head at him. "Sydney and Miss Parker and Broots seem to find it very important to protect me from whatever it is that goes on at that place they work at. What I DO know, however, is that the first time I saw your picture on his mantle next to Nicholas', I asked him if you were his other son - and he told me in so many words that sometimes he forgot you weren't his." I reached out to this hurting young man and put my hand on his forearm. "Look, I don't know what's happened between you, but I know that you're hurting because you think... what?... that he doesn't care?"
"He never said... he never let me think..." Jarod was struggling to explain himself to me.
"I think what you need to do is stop worrying about what he DIDN'T do in the past, and discover what he does think NOW, don't you?" I patted his forearm gently. "And you know as well as I do that you aren't going to find out what he thinks now by sitting out here with me. You need to go in there." I pointed over my shoulder at the house. "He's in his office."
He looked up and over my shoulder at the house very longingly. "Go on," I urged him. "I'll be either out here or off to bed, so I won't get in your way."
"You know," he began without having moved yet, "I can imagine that you DO make him very happy. I'm glad he found you, and congratulations on your baby."
I smiled. Evidently I'd finally passed muster with him. "Thank you, Jarod. Stop by on your way out, if I'm still up. And in case I don't see you before you leave, don't be a stranger. You'll always be welcome here, as long as I have anything to say about it."
He stood. "You say your name's Catherine?"
I looked up at him. "My friends call me Cathy. Miss Parker does."
"Well, in case I don't see you before I leave, it was an honor meeting you, Cathy," he said and held out his hand to me, "and I'm sorry I didn't shake your hand in the café."
I shook hands with him and then patted his hand with my other one. "Go on now," I urged again. "Just knock on the door so he isn't startled. You know how he gets when he's doing paperwork..."
Jarod gave me an understanding and twisted little smirk, patted my hand back, and then walked slowly through my back door.
I could have gone to bed right then and there, but I knew better. I knew I knew better. And so I pulled my sweater closer and waited, knowing that I had done all I could to help another of Sydney's “children” find their way home, but needed to be around when the other shoe fell. When my tea was gone, however, I couldn't see sitting out in the cold. I went into the kitchen and set the teakettle on again and found another tea bag for my mug. Then I sat down at the table and waited again.
For a while, I began to wonder whether I could last until the two of them had finished. Another hour had passed, and my third mug of tea was long finished by the time I heard the door to the office open and the sound of voices in the hallway. Jarod's deep tones sounded tired but relieved, and my husband's tired and soothing. "No, the light is still on in the kitchen," I heard Sydney say, and then the steps came closer. "There she is."
I turned. Jarod's eyes were a little red, and his face looked very tired - but I think what made my heart sit up and sing was the fact that my husband had his hand very firmly on the younger man's shoulder and seemed to be guiding him into the kitchen. "Is there enough hot water for a little more tea, Cat?" Sydney asked me quietly.
"There will be soon enough," I rose to my feet and took the teakettle over to the sink for refilling. When I finished, I turned and looked at my husband. He looked tired too, tired and as if he'd been put through something very painful. "Are you alright?" I asked him with an accusing glance at Jarod.
"Don't blame him," Sydney defended the younger man immediately. "This was a talk that we've needed to have for a very long time." I noted that Sydney's hand hadn't moved from Jarod's shoulder, but rather tightened briefly. "He could use a place to land for the night, though. I was wondering if you'd mind if I put him on the couch in my office?"
"I don't mean to intrude." Jarod's voice was rough, and he was having a hard time looking me in the eye.
"Hey." I moved and put my own hand on his arm below my husband's evidently reassuring hand, and he turned those very tired, dark eyes to me. "I told you that you'd be welcome in my house anytime. I meant it. Of course I don't mind you crashing on the office couch. I'll get you a pillow and some blankets."
"Is there anything left of supper?" Sydney asked.
I looked at Jarod again. Yes, perhaps some of that fatigue could be simple hunger. "There's some meat for sandwiches in a plastic bag, and some salad in the crisper drawer."
"You don't have to do that," Jarod looked up at my husband. "Sydney, it's OK..."
"Yes I do," I heard Sydney say to him in a very soft voice that I had only heard him use before with me or with Miss Parker. "Please let me help you." He looked up at me, and I almost caught my breath at the longing in his dark honeyed eyes, the plea for reinforcement.
"Jarod, let us help you," I added my voice to Sydney's. "You're family, after all." I saw Sydney nod, even though Jarod glanced at me as if I'd shocked him again. "You're tired, and you look like you've been run ragged. You're safe here."
The dark eyes flitted between Sydney's face and mine, and then Jarod nodded. "OK."
I patted Sydney's arm. "I'll just go put some linens on the office couch and be right back," I told him, and Sydney bent to kiss my cheek before I left.
"You love her." Jarod's voice followed me into the hallway.
"Yes, very much." I smiled at the love in my husband's tired voice.
"She's very beautiful." I smiled even wider as I turned to start up the stairs. Jarod could be as much of a charmer as his “father,” it seemed. Then: "She suits you."
"I don't know what ever I did without her." With that, I decided to stop listening and hurried the rest of the way up the steps to set together the linens.
~~~~~~~~
We fed Jarod, and he ate as if he felt guilty that he was hungry and taking our food. I made a whole pot of tea this time, and Sydney and I sat with him at the table after he'd finished eating, watching the tea warm him physically while we did our level best to warm him emotionally. All pretense of independence had slipped from his posture, as if finally too heavy for him to carry anymore. He was like a puppy who'd been whipped one too many times, and I could see that Sydney was worried about him. I worried too.
We escorted him up the stairs and put him to bed, and then retired ourselves - and that was when Sydney fell apart. In all the time I'd known him, my husband had been the strength I had leaned on. That night, the tables were turned. He lay against my shoulder and sobbed, and finally began to speak - as if holding everything in were beyond him anymore.
At long last, he told me about Jarod - of how they had met, how he had believed what the Centre told him about the boy, how he had struggled not to show the boy he cared for all those years in order to protect them both from being separated despite loving as if he were his own, how he hadn't been able to protect him well enough against those determined to perpetrate horrific evils on that intelligent and trapped young man. He told me of how the Centre had manipulated his life to keep his focus finely fixed on his work with Jarod - how Jacob had been removed because of his plotting with Miss Parker's mother, how Michelle had been convinced to leave when she became pregnant with Nicholas, how yet another associate had been removed when even that relationship began to hold potential for something more. He told me of how he and Broots and Miss Parker had been assigned to recapture Jarod when he escaped so many years ago, of how he'd quietly helped Jarod remain free as a subtle way of atoning for all those years he'd stood by and allowed Jarod's virtual imprisonment, of how Jarod had slowly uncovered all the evidence of what had been done to them all over the years, and finally of how dangerous it could be for us to give Jarod refuge that night.
He spoke for a very long time, often while struggling to suppress sobbing, and I could hear the recrimination in his voice, the sadness, the horror and guilt at what he'd been a part of, at his blindness and then weakness to prevent or put an end to any of it. He had told me when I first came to Delaware to stay that he'd been part of something he wasn't proud of - something monstrous - now I knew exactly what he meant. And I held him as he cried, knowing beyond a doubt that the man I'd fallen in love with was no longer capable of such things. I also no longer questioned why Broots and Miss Parker and he were so determined to keep me safe from Lyle and the machinations of the Centre. I held him close and let him know with soothing words and caresses that I still loved him dearly despite the nightmare he'd dumped into my ear until he finally fell asleep in my arms, spent but I hoped purged of all need to keep secrets from me any longer.
Of course, the time came when I had to rise to take care of bathroom needs. Our peanut was learning that bladders were fun things to play with, especially in the middle of the night. As I came out of the bathroom, I thought I could hear voices out in the house. I stuck my head out the door and discovered that what I though had been voices was but one voice and coming from the office. I slipped down the hallway as quietly as I could and knocked softly at the door, then peeked my head in when I received no reply.
Jarod's bed on the couch was in complete disarray - he was thrashing about in the throes of what must have been a horrific nightmare. I came into the room and sat down next to him on the couch and captured his swinging hands in mine and called to him until finally, with a jerk, he pulled himself free and awoke. His eyes were wide and frightened, and I could see it was taking a little while for him to recognize me in my gown and robe. Finally, though, he seemed to relax a bit - perhaps finally waking enough to know where he was.
"I'm sorry I disturbed your rest," he whispered, his face twisted in chagrin and obviously struggling against tears.
"You didn't," I assured him, letting go of his hands. "I heard noises in here and got nosy. Are you OK? That looked like quite a nightmare..." My heart went out to him. "What's wrong?"
I think he would have tried to reassure me to get rid of me, to pretend to be strong and put on a stiff upper lip, but I reached out and stroked his hair with my hand the way I used to when Rene would have her nightmares - and suddenly I had Jarod falling apart in front of me. I opened my arms to my husband's “son” and suddenly had his head pillowed on my shoulder - the same shoulder that had been drenched with Sydney's tears only hours earlier. "I'm sorry," he choked at me, his arms looping around me loosely.
"Hush," I soothed and held him tightly. "There's nothing to be sorry for." He trembled and struggled against his emotions for a long time while I just held onto him. Like Miss Parker, he was hungry - desperate - for the kind of demonstration of simple affection that they both had been denied for one reason or another. I could only hope that when he had talked with Sydney that they had worked out whatever it was between them that had caused the both of them so much pain, because Jarod's tears were silent and agonized ones. I didn't ask for, and he didn't offer, an explanation. It was enough that he was allowing me to offer him comfort and accepting it.
Finally he sat up and wiped at his eyes with the palms of his hands, peeking at me with a sheepish look on his face. "You must think..."
"What I DO think is that you've probably needed that for a very long time," I hastened to interrupt him, and then went with my gut feeling and kissed him gently on the cheek. "We all need to lean from time to time, Jarod. It's not a crime."
"I think..." he started, then paused and thought. "I hope..." He had the face of a lost and heartbroken little boy. "Do you think my mom would be... like that too - not be disappointed...?"
"I'm sure she is, sweetheart," I soothed him, patting his cheek and wiping away one or two errant tears. I let him settle with a sigh on my shoulder again and held him close. "You'll find her, Jarod, and you'll see."
~~~~~~~~
From what Sydney had told me, I fully expected the house to be empty except for the two of us when I got up in the morning - but I was pleasantly surprised to find Jarod in my kitchen, calmly cooking breakfast for the three of us. I was astonished and more than a little touched to be the recipient of a very shy kiss on the cheek and fleeting hug before being shown the pot of tea he'd already made for me. Then Sydney shuffled into the kitchen carrying the Sunday paper, sniffing the scent-filled appreciatively, and stopped cold at the sight of me sipping my tea at the table while Jarod fussed at the stove.
The surprise in his voice was palpable. "Jarod! You're..."
"Good morning, Sydney," he replied with an easy smile and then a bear hug for my husband that took Sydney past surprise and into shock. "Get some coffee and sit down - this is almost ready."
This morning was a respite for all of us, a rare and precious moment of togetherness and peace with this remarkable and resilient young man. I smiled and held out a hand to my husband as he joined me at the table, and together we chatted quietly and amicably with Jarod as he served us breakfast. The feeling of family cohesiveness grew steadily through that gentle and unpressured morning, and I found myself wishing that such moments could happen more often - for Jarod's sake as much as for Sydney's.
I knew better. I knew I knew better. And so I watched and listened and participated in the morning, mindful that I would have to keep this memory more carefully than most of my others.
Spring was indeed coming to Delaware. Slowly and so very carefully, Sydney was having a family bloom around him after a long winter of loneliness - and I was finding myself blooming right along with them.
I smiled and held my hand over the bulge that was our somersaulting unborn daughter. It was about time - for all of us.
