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Chapter or Story
Disclaimer: Jarod, Parker, Harriet, as well as any of the other usual suspects referred to herein, are not mine. The others, however, belong solely to me. The geographic locations, commercial establishments and historical references pertaining to Central Texas are all real. While The Gruene Mansion Inn does indeed exist, the individuals associated with it in this story are entirely fictional. The only thing I'm earning here is the adoration of millions and no infringement is intended.
River Hideout
by Ginger
"And, to think, you've fought long and hard to remain out here in this crummy world," she remarked, staring out the window with her arms crossed tightly at her chest.
Jarod frowned. It wasn't the first time she'd said this since their adventure began two days earlier and, he had to admit, the world did seem to be conspiring to prove her point. People had been rude, obnoxious, or just plain weird along much of their journey, and a few moments earlier a rather nasty argument had erupted between the driver and a fellow passenger of the Greyhound bus carrying them to their destination. Fearing it might come to blows he intervened to diffuse the situation then returned to his seat beside Miss Parker.
Her presence on this journey was not "voluntary" in the strictest sense of the word. Okay, so it wasn't voluntary in any sense of the word, at least not initially. Parker awoke mad as a badger from a narcotic-induced sleep to find herself at a roadside motel in rural West Virginia with Jarod standing over her bearing a broad smile and a cup of coffee. In a fit of rage she pretty well trashed the room, hurling every object that wasn't nailed down and even a few that were. Fortunately, he had anticipated her reaction and had plenty of cash on hand to placate the distressed, and more than a little frightened, elderly couple who ran the place.
Bumpy start aside, he really couldn't complain considering he was traveling with the one human being on the planet most qualified to make trouble for him. Jarod would have never entertained such a preposterous idea if Harriet Tashman hadn't asked it of him. He was so delighted to see her again that he was loath to deny her anything. Even so, he did attempt to reason with her but she was adamant: she wanted to meet Catherine's daughter. He'd considered luring Parker, as he had done on other occasions when he wanted her to meet someone he thought she ought to know, but quickly dismissed the idea because he couldn't guarantee Harriet's safety. Even if Parker actually followed his instructions to come alone there was no guarantee that she wouldn't be followed. The only course available to him was to personally bring Parker to Harriet.
So here he was, seated beside his huntress on the last few hours of their journey. Parker was clearly in no mood for conversation, he didn't feel like reading, and he was out of snacks. Great. Nothing to do but reflect on the last 48 hours of his life. Reflection was something he'd been avoiding in earnest because he was terrified of the conclusion he'd reach.
Pulling his jacket off the overhead rack, Jarod dug into the pocket for a bit of stress relief. Fortunately, he'd remembered to reload his Pez dispenser when they stopped for breakfast. Flipping back the panda bear head he blinked a few times, his brow knit in confusion. A beat later he expelled a deep breath then raised his head and slowly turned to look at the person seated beside him. She did not acknowledge his gaze, remaining silent and still with her eyes trained on the road before them. Pointedly flipping the empty dispenser closed, he could barely contain a smirk as he turned away from her. That's when it hit him, the conclusion he'd been dodging for two days:
Jarod was having the time of his life.
It came flooding back to him: the giddy anticipation as he meticulously packed a bag with every casual item of clothing he could find while stealing the occasional glimpse at her sleeping form; the rush of adrenaline as he gently lifted her in his arms; the amusement as he watched her stalk around the motel room in West Virginia, looking adorably tousled even in anger.
As if that weren't enough, when she finally calmed down enough to allow him to explain, her eyes grew open and vulnerable at the mention of her mother, allowing him a glimpse at the person he knew existed behind the facade. She soon recovered and was the same old Parker, but then he was dealing with the way the woman wore a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, not to mention the way she smelled... and without her $200-an-ounce perfume... the way SHE smelled.
He would never forget the priceless look on her face when they arrived at the bus station. "Not on your life, Frankenrat!" was her refrain. He delighted in pointing out that even the most twisted minds at the Centre would never be able to fathom the concept of Miss Parker traveling by bus. She narrowed her eyes as if issuing a silent threat, but her lips twitched and curled ever so slightly as she tossed her bag at him then turned to climb aboard. Somehow managing her bag and his, not to mention his slightly wobbly knees, Jarod followed shaking his head.
The bus ride commenced as expected: Parker making the occasional caustic comment, rolling her eyes, glaring at him, or ignoring him altogether. Later on she fell asleep and things got interesting. He watched as her head rocked back and forth until, inevitably, it came to rest on his shoulder. The first time she awoke instantly and, shooting him a look that suggested he was guilty of more than mere proximity, jerked violently away from him. The same thing happened the second time and the third but NOT the fourth.
At first he feared the pounding of his heart might wake her but he soon adjusted to the warm, soft, fragrant bundle pressed against the right side of his body. It had been ages - a lifetime really - since he'd had Miss Parker's head on his shoulder, and yet it felt curiously familiar... and comfortable. With that thought followed an unpleasant constricting sensation behind his solar plexus and that's when Jarod resolved to avoid engaging in further self-reflection.
That was easier said than done. From then on Parker would claim his shoulder whenever she was ready for sleep. She did so matter-of-factly and without discussion. Well, she always did have a strong sense of entitlement. Besides, a sleeping Miss Parker was a quiet Miss Parker and if she was comfortable then she was likely to remain sleeping. At least that's what he told himself, even as he took little liberties that would land him six feet under if she were awake. He would catch himself doing things like brushing his cheek - ever so lightly - across the top of her head. More than once he was startled to find he'd been unconsciously toying with a lock of her hair, the silky strands wound around his fingers.
Jarod slept little himself. It wasn't that he didn't trust her; he did, more or less. She'd agreed to come along and seemed genuinely interested in meeting Harriet. While he did consider them to be safely "under the radar," they were still taking a significant risk in traveling together. If they were discovered, he shuddered to think what the consequences would be. But that was only part of it, he realized. He liked having Parker near him and didn't want to miss a moment of the experience.
Nevertheless, last night he finally succumbed to fatigue and drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep for several hours. He awoke before dawn to find Parker's hand on his chest and his hand closed over hers. This was new; Parker had previously and steadfastly kept her hands to herself. But it went well beyond the position of their hands. Her body was more or less curled around his; her face was buried under his chin, the tickle of her breath sending a shiver down his spine. Her leg, bent at the knee, was slung across his lap. It was as though, in sleep, they had melted into one another. She was halfway on his lap, practically straddling him. To the casual observer it would appear that they were...
*Are you together?*
*It's... complicated.*
Was it ever. Jarod recalled Mr. Fenigor's loaded question, as well as his evasive response, and was hit with a sudden wave of panic.
"Parker," he whispered nervously. "Parker, wake up. I have to..."
She slowly opened her eyes and raised her head to look up at him. Her serene, sleepy expression did nothing to calm him and he stammered, "I... I... have to go to the... and you're..." He gestured at has lap where her leg still rested.
That woke her up.
"Oh!" Parker responded louder than she intended then quickly lifted herself off him and straightened in her own seat. "Sorry," she added softly as she turned away to stare into the pre-dawn darkness.
He rose quickly, practically sprinted to the back of the bus, and locked himself in the bathroom. After splashing several handfuls of cold water on his face, Jarod banged his head softly against the bathroom door a few times before returning to his seat. Neither of them slept a wink after that and, ever since, very little conversation had passed between them. And that was a shame, really.
It was one thing to find her appealing in sleep: a sleeping polar bear is adorable but that doesn't diminish the fact that, awake, it is capable of ripping your lungs out. What surprised Jarod was how much he enjoyed the company of a conscious Miss Parker. Sure, she was demanding, outspoken, and sarcastic. But she was other things too: intelligent, of course, but also highly adaptable (which made sense considering she'd spent years chasing him all over creation) and, well, funny. This was the first opportunity since childhood to discuss topics other than the Centre, and he was finding her little insights on the wider world to be endlessly fascinating, not to mention highly entertaining.
A case in point was when they stopped at a truck stop for dinner the evening before. After the meal everyone had time to stretch their legs before getting back on the road so he and Parker wandered into the gift shop to look around. She stopped at the magazine stand and he stepped up behind her, looking over her shoulder as she picked up one of those glossy celebrity magazines and began flipping through it.
Coming across a photo of Prince Charles, Parker commented nonchalantly, "I'll bet he likes to be spanked."
Coughing to cover his startled laughter Jarod glanced around to see if anyone had heard then managed to squeak out, "Excuse me?"
"I'll bet he likes to have that horsy-looking girlfriend of his dress up in black leather and take him over her knee."
"Parker!" he chided in a loud whisper then started chuckling again. He could feel heat rising in his cheeks.
"What?" she inquired casually, glancing over her shoulder to raise an eyebrow at him.
Struggling to contain himself he said, "You're referring to the Prince of Wales! Look at him!" Jarod reached around her to point at the photo then continued, "He holds an ancient, revered position, part of an institution steeped in centuries of history and tradition. Besides, he just looks so dignified."
Pivoting on her heels to face him, she foisted the magazine at him and replied, "Precisely."
Parker glided away, leaving Jarod standing red-face, slack-jawed and blinking after her until it dawned on him that he was clutching the magazine to his chest. Gazing ruefully at the crumpled periodical, he heard a voice call out,
"Sugar, you plan on buying that?"
He turned to meet the eyes of the woman behind the counter and, with a shrug and an impish smile, replied, "Looks like it."
Jarod climbed onto the bus to find that Parker had already taken her seat. He wordlessly tossed the magazine at her then sat down bearing a faint smirk that mirrored hers.
He felt excited, wary and confused at the same time. Were they... flirting? Maybe she was just being cruel, drawing him into an area in which they both knew she was far more experienced than he, and for the sole purpose of making him feel silly. Yet nothing in her demeanor suggested as much; she was relaxed and - dare he think it - good natured all evening. Perhaps she was feeling more comfortable with him, allowing her playful side to surface.
If so then drifting off and cuddling up to her had been a big mistake, or so he thought until the discovery of the pilfered Pez. He very much doubted that she'd eaten the candy; it was probably concealed on her person. An image flashed in his mind but he shook it off instantly. He could not frisk Miss Parker to search for the missing Pez. Could he? No. They were small; they could be almost anywhere. Speculating on some possible locations, he was struck by another image. DEFINITELY no. No. No. No.
"Looks like the end of the road."
Parker's words broke through his reverie and he took in the salient features of the Austin skyline - the impressive dome of the Texas State Capitol and the Tower at the University of Texas made famous, or rather infamous, by that horrible incident in August 1966. As a boy he had sim’d Charles Whitman, the man who went to the top of the UT Tower with a small armory and proceeded to open fire on the people below killing 14 and injuring several others before being killed himself. With a small shudder Jarod resolved to put it out of his mind and focus on more pertinent matters.
He identified a new dimension to the nervous excitement he felt whenever he encountered someone or something connected to his past. For a change he wasn't alone. Casting a furtive glance at his travel companion, he saw that she was unconsciously twisting the large square ring around her left index finger. Her forehead was creased with tension.
"It's going to be fine, Parker, you'll see," he encouraged softly. "Harriet is very nice. She adored your mother."
She said nothing but may have given a slight nod in reply, he wasn't sure. It didn't matter. He wasn't alone and neither was she. Jarod was beginning to discern a method to Harriet's madness.
* * * *
"Good Lord," Parker muttered, stopping dead in her tracks as she caught sight of the multi-colored minibus. On the curb beside it stood three middle-aged nuns, all of them smiling and one waving enthusiastically.
"I believe that's the idea," he chirped, grinning as he lifted her bag out of the hand now hanging limply at her side. He couldn't resist throwing in a wink for good measure. It wasn't everyday that he got to witness Miss Parker climbing into a garishly painted vehicle with several nuns, so who could blame him for enjoying himself a little?
Casting him a withering glare that only served to heighten his amusement she nodded at the surreal welcome wagon and demanded through clenched teeth, "Well... which one is she?"
"None of them," he replied confidentially as he took her gently by the arm and pulled her forward. "I told her not to meet us here... too dangerous."
"You must be Jarod and Parker! You simply must be!" effused the previously waving nun as she took one of their hands in each of hers and shook vigorously.
"Then I guess we are," Parker replied wryly.
"We are," Jarod piped in with a warm smile as he cast her a sideward glance.
"I just knew you were! I just knew it! Oh, where are my manners, this is Sister Anna Marie, this is Sister Theresa Marie and, well, I'm just plain Sister Marie!" She chuckled then without any apparent pause for a breath went on, "Well, let's not stand out here in the street all day! Jarod, why don't you put the bags in the back and I think you should probably sit in front to allow room for those long legs of yours. Good gracious, you both have such long legs! We might have to move that seat up, Anna. Theresa, you are the smallest among us so I think it's best if you take the third row. Of course, I'm speaking dimensionally, not spiritually!"
She laughed heartily then went on and on and on as they all loaded into the vehicle and pulled onto the road, and throughout the duration of their journey. Neither Jarod nor Parker attempted to get a word in, but a few times the other Sisters appeared poised to speak even going so far as to open their mouths only to be cut off again by just plain Sister Marie. At one point Parker leaned in to whisper, "She must be the Alpha Nun," and Jarod had to press his lips together to keep from laughing.
Voicing a need to be on their way - although where to Jarod couldn't begin to guess - the Sisters bid him and Parker a hasty adieu when they reached Gruene, an historic, picturesque hill town located roughly halfway between Austin and San Antonio. Marie did most of the bidding, actually; the other two just smiled and nodded politely. Watching and waving as the minibus pulled away, Jarod asked,
"Do you think it's possible that both Sister Anna Marie and Sister Theresa Marie are mute?"
Parker rolled her eyes and shook her head then turned to pass through the impressive wrought iron archway and lumber up the path toward the entrance of the large white Victorian building. When they entered the woman behind the reception desk looked up and addressed them immediately,
"Mr. and Mrs. Smith?"
Jarod nodded diffidently, coloring as he felt the burn of Parker's glare. Explanations would obviously have to wait. Finding his voice he replied, "Good guess. I'm Jarod and this is Parker."
Motioning for them to approach the desk, the woman confessed, "I'm hardly psychic. We're nearly booked full and you're the last of our guests to arrive."
"Oh," he replied dumbly as he stepped up to the desk with Parker close on his heels.
"I'm Joan Urbanski," their hostess announced with a warm smile. "And on behalf of my husband, Brian, and myself, I want to welcome you to The Gruene Mansion Inn."
"Thank you," Jarod responded, returning her smile.
"Now, let's see," she muttered, opening the reservation book. "It's a good thing Harriet called when she did... lovely woman... does wonderful work. She used our courtyard a few months back to run an immunization clinic for low-income families in the area. I'm glad we're able to accommodate you. Any friend of Harriet's is a friend of ours. Hmmm... yes, here we go. We have only two vacancies but both rooms are lovely. Honeymoon Hayloft or River Hideout: the choice is yours."
"River Hideout!" Jarod and Parker blurted in unison.
A startled expression flashed across the innkeeper's face but was quickly chased away by a friendly smile. "Excellent choice!" she chirped then continued, "And, rest assured, the Hideout is every bit as romantic as the Hayloft. All of our rooms are romantic. In fact, I am proud to say that The Gruene Mansion was recently rated among the top 15 most romantic B&Bs in the country by one of our leading industry publications. You'll have the beautiful Guadalupe River right outside your door, and a clawfoot tub and I think you'll be very..."
"Fine!" Parker interjected a bit too sharply then immediately added in a more congenial tone, "I'm sure it's lovely."
"Thank you," Jarod muttered with a half-smile as he plucked the room key from the counter.
"Now, go out the way you came in, turn right on the porch, walk all the way to the back of the building and..."
He tuned out their gracious hostess, and everything else, as he contemplated the present circumstances. He felt ridiculous. He had known from the outset that he would be sharing a hotel room with a breathtakingly beautiful woman but had thought nothing of it. That woman was Miss Parker so he'd naively assumed that any impulses requiring strict control would be of a violent nature. What had he been thinking?
Wasn't it as early as his first year of freedom, when they were trapped together in the Keys, that he'd been forced to suppress a powerful urge to steal a kiss once he had her securely tethered? In those days her behavior fell squarely and consistently in pain-in-the-neck category and, yet, she looked so good soaking wet and there was a hint of something in her tone, just a slight edge of hurt feelings, when she realized he was going to pull a gun on her. Darned unreasonable under the circumstances but fetching nevertheless. Only his keen awareness of her excellent marksmanship, as well as his certainty that she'd have future opportunities to demonstrate that skill, had reined him in.
Earlier still, he'd imagined over and over again what Parker's expression might have been when she opened the gift he'd sent her on that first Christmas out. No, it went back even further to the butterflies in his stomach when he'd call her at home to taunt her. Hadn't meeting and spending those few precious days with Nia compelled him to recognize, at least on some level, the complex and conflicted nature of his feelings toward his huntress? And they'd been through so much together since; he now knew the woman she'd become better than he'd known the girl she'd been. With more to know there was more to... Admire? Like? Desire?
All of the above, actually, and he was now sharing a room with this admirable, likeable, and desirable woman. And not just any room - because neither of them ever did anything by halves - but a room in one of the most romantic inns in the country. Well, he thought as he turned the key, this ought to be interesting.
"Leave it open," Parker called over her shoulder as she stood in the center of the room and glanced around her. "There's a nice breeze from the river."
Relieved to be afforded this option, Jarod nodded and pulled only the screen door closed behind him. Setting the bags down, he watched in silence as she strolled around the room, taking in little details and occasionally running her fingers over an object or a piece of fabric. He thought he could detect an air of approbation but her enigmatic demeanor made it difficult to know for sure.
The concept of romance remained an elusive one. He comprehended the science of human sexuality, the role of pheromones and hormones, as well as socialization within the context of prevailing codes of morality and social norms. But romance? To Jarod much of it seemed contrived, silly, and, more to the point, disappointing to the people so desperately seeking it. It often appeared that the only ones truly benefiting were retailers specializing in lingerie, candy and flowers.
The atmosphere in this room challenged his previous assessment. Rich, dark wood paneling and lush, deep jewel tones evoked warmth and abundance, which combined with the soft, gentle sounds of wind rustling through the trees and the river flowing lazily by to give one a sense of complete serenity and privacy. In this environment it would be easy to pretend that he and Parker were the only two people on earth. And what if they were? Well, there would be no Centre for one thing, and no reason for her to chase him or for him to run from her. Outside the roles of prey and predator they would simply be a man and a woman free to...
Jarod was mercifully distracted from this train of thought when Parker leaned into the bathroom doorway to flip on the light. She muttered "Yup, that's a clawfoot tub alright," then switched it off again and paced back to the center of the room where she stood in silence, her expression as unreadable as ever. He felt his heartbeat accelerate with every second that ticked by in silence until he couldn't stand it any longer and blurted,
"I'm sorry!"
"For what?" she inquired with a look of genuine puzzlement.
"For this..." He motioned around the room then stammered, "This... this... inconvenience. When Harriet and I began planning this, I wasn't sure how cooperative you'd be, or if I'd be able to risk letting you out of my sight for an instant."
"Well, that's a relief," she commented with a sigh then added with the faintest wry smile, "The first thing you did whenever we stopped someplace was case the ladies room and I was HOPING that was the reason."
Jarod smiled grudgingly. She was making this impossible. "The point is," he continued with a sigh, "that you have acted in good faith since you agreed to join me and I now have complete confidence that if left on your own you wouldn't do anything to jeopardize my freedom or Harriet's safety. But she had already booked us here as a couple and if we requested two rooms now it would raise eyebrows, draw attention, make us conspicuous."
"I get it, Wonderboy," Parker interjected with just a hint of impatience in her voice.
"Well, anyway," he went on softly as he contemplated an especially riveting spot on the floor. "That's why I'm apologizing. I should have given you the benefit of the doubt."
"Based on what?"
The complete absence of irony in her tone caused Jarod to look up and meet her eyes. No trace of irony there either, just two wide, questioning, and painfully beautiful blue orbs staring back at him, drawing him in. Could he really talk to her about it? Could he seriously consider sharing even a few of the thoughts and feelings that had plagued him over the past few days? He found the prospect terrifying; it would, after all, be an unprecedented breach of their unspoken agreement that certain topics were to be skirted or, better yet, avoided altogether. And yet the compulsion to speak grew with every moment he held her eyes, a pressure building almost to the point of pain until...
There was a polite but firm knock on the screen door.
"Sorry to bother you," the innkeeper offered with an apologetic smile. "But I thought this might be too important to wait. It must have been when I was out running errands, and we've been so busy today that it slipped Brian's mind until I mentioned that you'd arrived. Harriet stopped by earlier to leave a message for you."
* * * *
"Splendid," Parker groaned then closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.
Frowning, Jarod explained, "Harriet's work in the Tejano community is very important; the people here have become like family to her. When someone calls, she has no choice but to be there."
"And we have no choice but wait it out here in the middle of nowhere," she replied with a sigh then turned to stare glumly out the screen door.
"This is hardly the middle of nowhere, Parker. We're in beautiful Texas Hill Country, at The Gruene Mansion Inn no less..."
They exchanged a glance then quickly looked away. An awkward silence descended. Jarod cursed himself under his breath as he stared resolutely at the floor, his cheeks burning. The tension was back, having temporarily yielded to disappointment when they learned that Harriet was unavoidably detained and wouldn't be able to see them until the next day.
Now what? He hadn't entertained the possibility of being alone with Parker with nothing to do but kill time but then, in keeping with the day's theme, very little about the whole enterprise had gone as expected. Clearly, he'd done a heck of a job planning for every contingency. Some genius: if the Centre PTBs could only see him now, they'd probably call off the search immediately.
"I get first dibs on the bathroom."
"Huh?" Jarod muttered, looking up to see that Parker was crouched over her bag.
"Two days of freshening up in rest stop bathrooms is two days too many. Besides, I need to scrub off the nun residue before I break out in a rash."
To his look of amused skepticism she responded with complete deadpan, "Skin sensitivity to nuns is quite common among Catholic school alumni," then went back to rifling through her bag. When she produced a couple delicate, silky articles of clothing, Jarod knew it was his cue to leave.
"While you're..." He nodded toward the bathroom then continued, "I think I'll take a stroll around town."
"Take your time," she replied. "I'm going to soak for a while."
Well, that was an image he didn't need. "O... okay," he stammered. "How long will you... should I...?"
"An hour should do it, and give you time to find out what, if anything, goes on this town. I have no intention of sitting around here all evening bored out of my skull. And, take my word for it, you don't want that either."
He nodded and sighed then wordlessly exited the room. Bouncing down the porch steps into the afternoon sunshine, he recalled their childhood at the Centre, when a proclamation of boredom from Miss Parker was usually followed by an escapade that landed them both in a heap of trouble. He could almost hear that tone of weary disappointment in Sydney's voice as he demanded, "What were you thinking, Jarod?" He would reply with a shrug that inevitably earned him a ticket back to his room for an evening without game or reading privileges. As much as he hated letting down his mentor in those days, it was impossible to produce a satisfactory answer because, the truth was, he'd been barely thinking at all.
He turned to gaze at the door he'd just passed through, shook his head, then turned again and proceeded walking at a leisurely pace around the building toward the street. Now as then, it would be so easy to stop thinking around her. Only now the consequences would be far more serious than a reprimand from Sydney. With that thought he picked up the pace. Parker was right; they had to get the hell out of that room.
# # # #
River Hideout
by Ginger
"And, to think, you've fought long and hard to remain out here in this crummy world," she remarked, staring out the window with her arms crossed tightly at her chest.
Jarod frowned. It wasn't the first time she'd said this since their adventure began two days earlier and, he had to admit, the world did seem to be conspiring to prove her point. People had been rude, obnoxious, or just plain weird along much of their journey, and a few moments earlier a rather nasty argument had erupted between the driver and a fellow passenger of the Greyhound bus carrying them to their destination. Fearing it might come to blows he intervened to diffuse the situation then returned to his seat beside Miss Parker.
Her presence on this journey was not "voluntary" in the strictest sense of the word. Okay, so it wasn't voluntary in any sense of the word, at least not initially. Parker awoke mad as a badger from a narcotic-induced sleep to find herself at a roadside motel in rural West Virginia with Jarod standing over her bearing a broad smile and a cup of coffee. In a fit of rage she pretty well trashed the room, hurling every object that wasn't nailed down and even a few that were. Fortunately, he had anticipated her reaction and had plenty of cash on hand to placate the distressed, and more than a little frightened, elderly couple who ran the place.
Bumpy start aside, he really couldn't complain considering he was traveling with the one human being on the planet most qualified to make trouble for him. Jarod would have never entertained such a preposterous idea if Harriet Tashman hadn't asked it of him. He was so delighted to see her again that he was loath to deny her anything. Even so, he did attempt to reason with her but she was adamant: she wanted to meet Catherine's daughter. He'd considered luring Parker, as he had done on other occasions when he wanted her to meet someone he thought she ought to know, but quickly dismissed the idea because he couldn't guarantee Harriet's safety. Even if Parker actually followed his instructions to come alone there was no guarantee that she wouldn't be followed. The only course available to him was to personally bring Parker to Harriet.
So here he was, seated beside his huntress on the last few hours of their journey. Parker was clearly in no mood for conversation, he didn't feel like reading, and he was out of snacks. Great. Nothing to do but reflect on the last 48 hours of his life. Reflection was something he'd been avoiding in earnest because he was terrified of the conclusion he'd reach.
Pulling his jacket off the overhead rack, Jarod dug into the pocket for a bit of stress relief. Fortunately, he'd remembered to reload his Pez dispenser when they stopped for breakfast. Flipping back the panda bear head he blinked a few times, his brow knit in confusion. A beat later he expelled a deep breath then raised his head and slowly turned to look at the person seated beside him. She did not acknowledge his gaze, remaining silent and still with her eyes trained on the road before them. Pointedly flipping the empty dispenser closed, he could barely contain a smirk as he turned away from her. That's when it hit him, the conclusion he'd been dodging for two days:
Jarod was having the time of his life.
It came flooding back to him: the giddy anticipation as he meticulously packed a bag with every casual item of clothing he could find while stealing the occasional glimpse at her sleeping form; the rush of adrenaline as he gently lifted her in his arms; the amusement as he watched her stalk around the motel room in West Virginia, looking adorably tousled even in anger.
As if that weren't enough, when she finally calmed down enough to allow him to explain, her eyes grew open and vulnerable at the mention of her mother, allowing him a glimpse at the person he knew existed behind the facade. She soon recovered and was the same old Parker, but then he was dealing with the way the woman wore a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, not to mention the way she smelled... and without her $200-an-ounce perfume... the way SHE smelled.
He would never forget the priceless look on her face when they arrived at the bus station. "Not on your life, Frankenrat!" was her refrain. He delighted in pointing out that even the most twisted minds at the Centre would never be able to fathom the concept of Miss Parker traveling by bus. She narrowed her eyes as if issuing a silent threat, but her lips twitched and curled ever so slightly as she tossed her bag at him then turned to climb aboard. Somehow managing her bag and his, not to mention his slightly wobbly knees, Jarod followed shaking his head.
The bus ride commenced as expected: Parker making the occasional caustic comment, rolling her eyes, glaring at him, or ignoring him altogether. Later on she fell asleep and things got interesting. He watched as her head rocked back and forth until, inevitably, it came to rest on his shoulder. The first time she awoke instantly and, shooting him a look that suggested he was guilty of more than mere proximity, jerked violently away from him. The same thing happened the second time and the third but NOT the fourth.
At first he feared the pounding of his heart might wake her but he soon adjusted to the warm, soft, fragrant bundle pressed against the right side of his body. It had been ages - a lifetime really - since he'd had Miss Parker's head on his shoulder, and yet it felt curiously familiar... and comfortable. With that thought followed an unpleasant constricting sensation behind his solar plexus and that's when Jarod resolved to avoid engaging in further self-reflection.
That was easier said than done. From then on Parker would claim his shoulder whenever she was ready for sleep. She did so matter-of-factly and without discussion. Well, she always did have a strong sense of entitlement. Besides, a sleeping Miss Parker was a quiet Miss Parker and if she was comfortable then she was likely to remain sleeping. At least that's what he told himself, even as he took little liberties that would land him six feet under if she were awake. He would catch himself doing things like brushing his cheek - ever so lightly - across the top of her head. More than once he was startled to find he'd been unconsciously toying with a lock of her hair, the silky strands wound around his fingers.
Jarod slept little himself. It wasn't that he didn't trust her; he did, more or less. She'd agreed to come along and seemed genuinely interested in meeting Harriet. While he did consider them to be safely "under the radar," they were still taking a significant risk in traveling together. If they were discovered, he shuddered to think what the consequences would be. But that was only part of it, he realized. He liked having Parker near him and didn't want to miss a moment of the experience.
Nevertheless, last night he finally succumbed to fatigue and drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep for several hours. He awoke before dawn to find Parker's hand on his chest and his hand closed over hers. This was new; Parker had previously and steadfastly kept her hands to herself. But it went well beyond the position of their hands. Her body was more or less curled around his; her face was buried under his chin, the tickle of her breath sending a shiver down his spine. Her leg, bent at the knee, was slung across his lap. It was as though, in sleep, they had melted into one another. She was halfway on his lap, practically straddling him. To the casual observer it would appear that they were...
*Are you together?*
*It's... complicated.*
Was it ever. Jarod recalled Mr. Fenigor's loaded question, as well as his evasive response, and was hit with a sudden wave of panic.
"Parker," he whispered nervously. "Parker, wake up. I have to..."
She slowly opened her eyes and raised her head to look up at him. Her serene, sleepy expression did nothing to calm him and he stammered, "I... I... have to go to the... and you're..." He gestured at has lap where her leg still rested.
That woke her up.
"Oh!" Parker responded louder than she intended then quickly lifted herself off him and straightened in her own seat. "Sorry," she added softly as she turned away to stare into the pre-dawn darkness.
He rose quickly, practically sprinted to the back of the bus, and locked himself in the bathroom. After splashing several handfuls of cold water on his face, Jarod banged his head softly against the bathroom door a few times before returning to his seat. Neither of them slept a wink after that and, ever since, very little conversation had passed between them. And that was a shame, really.
It was one thing to find her appealing in sleep: a sleeping polar bear is adorable but that doesn't diminish the fact that, awake, it is capable of ripping your lungs out. What surprised Jarod was how much he enjoyed the company of a conscious Miss Parker. Sure, she was demanding, outspoken, and sarcastic. But she was other things too: intelligent, of course, but also highly adaptable (which made sense considering she'd spent years chasing him all over creation) and, well, funny. This was the first opportunity since childhood to discuss topics other than the Centre, and he was finding her little insights on the wider world to be endlessly fascinating, not to mention highly entertaining.
A case in point was when they stopped at a truck stop for dinner the evening before. After the meal everyone had time to stretch their legs before getting back on the road so he and Parker wandered into the gift shop to look around. She stopped at the magazine stand and he stepped up behind her, looking over her shoulder as she picked up one of those glossy celebrity magazines and began flipping through it.
Coming across a photo of Prince Charles, Parker commented nonchalantly, "I'll bet he likes to be spanked."
Coughing to cover his startled laughter Jarod glanced around to see if anyone had heard then managed to squeak out, "Excuse me?"
"I'll bet he likes to have that horsy-looking girlfriend of his dress up in black leather and take him over her knee."
"Parker!" he chided in a loud whisper then started chuckling again. He could feel heat rising in his cheeks.
"What?" she inquired casually, glancing over her shoulder to raise an eyebrow at him.
Struggling to contain himself he said, "You're referring to the Prince of Wales! Look at him!" Jarod reached around her to point at the photo then continued, "He holds an ancient, revered position, part of an institution steeped in centuries of history and tradition. Besides, he just looks so dignified."
Pivoting on her heels to face him, she foisted the magazine at him and replied, "Precisely."
Parker glided away, leaving Jarod standing red-face, slack-jawed and blinking after her until it dawned on him that he was clutching the magazine to his chest. Gazing ruefully at the crumpled periodical, he heard a voice call out,
"Sugar, you plan on buying that?"
He turned to meet the eyes of the woman behind the counter and, with a shrug and an impish smile, replied, "Looks like it."
Jarod climbed onto the bus to find that Parker had already taken her seat. He wordlessly tossed the magazine at her then sat down bearing a faint smirk that mirrored hers.
He felt excited, wary and confused at the same time. Were they... flirting? Maybe she was just being cruel, drawing him into an area in which they both knew she was far more experienced than he, and for the sole purpose of making him feel silly. Yet nothing in her demeanor suggested as much; she was relaxed and - dare he think it - good natured all evening. Perhaps she was feeling more comfortable with him, allowing her playful side to surface.
If so then drifting off and cuddling up to her had been a big mistake, or so he thought until the discovery of the pilfered Pez. He very much doubted that she'd eaten the candy; it was probably concealed on her person. An image flashed in his mind but he shook it off instantly. He could not frisk Miss Parker to search for the missing Pez. Could he? No. They were small; they could be almost anywhere. Speculating on some possible locations, he was struck by another image. DEFINITELY no. No. No. No.
"Looks like the end of the road."
Parker's words broke through his reverie and he took in the salient features of the Austin skyline - the impressive dome of the Texas State Capitol and the Tower at the University of Texas made famous, or rather infamous, by that horrible incident in August 1966. As a boy he had sim’d Charles Whitman, the man who went to the top of the UT Tower with a small armory and proceeded to open fire on the people below killing 14 and injuring several others before being killed himself. With a small shudder Jarod resolved to put it out of his mind and focus on more pertinent matters.
He identified a new dimension to the nervous excitement he felt whenever he encountered someone or something connected to his past. For a change he wasn't alone. Casting a furtive glance at his travel companion, he saw that she was unconsciously twisting the large square ring around her left index finger. Her forehead was creased with tension.
"It's going to be fine, Parker, you'll see," he encouraged softly. "Harriet is very nice. She adored your mother."
She said nothing but may have given a slight nod in reply, he wasn't sure. It didn't matter. He wasn't alone and neither was she. Jarod was beginning to discern a method to Harriet's madness.
* * * *
"Good Lord," Parker muttered, stopping dead in her tracks as she caught sight of the multi-colored minibus. On the curb beside it stood three middle-aged nuns, all of them smiling and one waving enthusiastically.
"I believe that's the idea," he chirped, grinning as he lifted her bag out of the hand now hanging limply at her side. He couldn't resist throwing in a wink for good measure. It wasn't everyday that he got to witness Miss Parker climbing into a garishly painted vehicle with several nuns, so who could blame him for enjoying himself a little?
Casting him a withering glare that only served to heighten his amusement she nodded at the surreal welcome wagon and demanded through clenched teeth, "Well... which one is she?"
"None of them," he replied confidentially as he took her gently by the arm and pulled her forward. "I told her not to meet us here... too dangerous."
"You must be Jarod and Parker! You simply must be!" effused the previously waving nun as she took one of their hands in each of hers and shook vigorously.
"Then I guess we are," Parker replied wryly.
"We are," Jarod piped in with a warm smile as he cast her a sideward glance.
"I just knew you were! I just knew it! Oh, where are my manners, this is Sister Anna Marie, this is Sister Theresa Marie and, well, I'm just plain Sister Marie!" She chuckled then without any apparent pause for a breath went on, "Well, let's not stand out here in the street all day! Jarod, why don't you put the bags in the back and I think you should probably sit in front to allow room for those long legs of yours. Good gracious, you both have such long legs! We might have to move that seat up, Anna. Theresa, you are the smallest among us so I think it's best if you take the third row. Of course, I'm speaking dimensionally, not spiritually!"
She laughed heartily then went on and on and on as they all loaded into the vehicle and pulled onto the road, and throughout the duration of their journey. Neither Jarod nor Parker attempted to get a word in, but a few times the other Sisters appeared poised to speak even going so far as to open their mouths only to be cut off again by just plain Sister Marie. At one point Parker leaned in to whisper, "She must be the Alpha Nun," and Jarod had to press his lips together to keep from laughing.
Voicing a need to be on their way - although where to Jarod couldn't begin to guess - the Sisters bid him and Parker a hasty adieu when they reached Gruene, an historic, picturesque hill town located roughly halfway between Austin and San Antonio. Marie did most of the bidding, actually; the other two just smiled and nodded politely. Watching and waving as the minibus pulled away, Jarod asked,
"Do you think it's possible that both Sister Anna Marie and Sister Theresa Marie are mute?"
Parker rolled her eyes and shook her head then turned to pass through the impressive wrought iron archway and lumber up the path toward the entrance of the large white Victorian building. When they entered the woman behind the reception desk looked up and addressed them immediately,
"Mr. and Mrs. Smith?"
Jarod nodded diffidently, coloring as he felt the burn of Parker's glare. Explanations would obviously have to wait. Finding his voice he replied, "Good guess. I'm Jarod and this is Parker."
Motioning for them to approach the desk, the woman confessed, "I'm hardly psychic. We're nearly booked full and you're the last of our guests to arrive."
"Oh," he replied dumbly as he stepped up to the desk with Parker close on his heels.
"I'm Joan Urbanski," their hostess announced with a warm smile. "And on behalf of my husband, Brian, and myself, I want to welcome you to The Gruene Mansion Inn."
"Thank you," Jarod responded, returning her smile.
"Now, let's see," she muttered, opening the reservation book. "It's a good thing Harriet called when she did... lovely woman... does wonderful work. She used our courtyard a few months back to run an immunization clinic for low-income families in the area. I'm glad we're able to accommodate you. Any friend of Harriet's is a friend of ours. Hmmm... yes, here we go. We have only two vacancies but both rooms are lovely. Honeymoon Hayloft or River Hideout: the choice is yours."
"River Hideout!" Jarod and Parker blurted in unison.
A startled expression flashed across the innkeeper's face but was quickly chased away by a friendly smile. "Excellent choice!" she chirped then continued, "And, rest assured, the Hideout is every bit as romantic as the Hayloft. All of our rooms are romantic. In fact, I am proud to say that The Gruene Mansion was recently rated among the top 15 most romantic B&Bs in the country by one of our leading industry publications. You'll have the beautiful Guadalupe River right outside your door, and a clawfoot tub and I think you'll be very..."
"Fine!" Parker interjected a bit too sharply then immediately added in a more congenial tone, "I'm sure it's lovely."
"Thank you," Jarod muttered with a half-smile as he plucked the room key from the counter.
"Now, go out the way you came in, turn right on the porch, walk all the way to the back of the building and..."
He tuned out their gracious hostess, and everything else, as he contemplated the present circumstances. He felt ridiculous. He had known from the outset that he would be sharing a hotel room with a breathtakingly beautiful woman but had thought nothing of it. That woman was Miss Parker so he'd naively assumed that any impulses requiring strict control would be of a violent nature. What had he been thinking?
Wasn't it as early as his first year of freedom, when they were trapped together in the Keys, that he'd been forced to suppress a powerful urge to steal a kiss once he had her securely tethered? In those days her behavior fell squarely and consistently in pain-in-the-neck category and, yet, she looked so good soaking wet and there was a hint of something in her tone, just a slight edge of hurt feelings, when she realized he was going to pull a gun on her. Darned unreasonable under the circumstances but fetching nevertheless. Only his keen awareness of her excellent marksmanship, as well as his certainty that she'd have future opportunities to demonstrate that skill, had reined him in.
Earlier still, he'd imagined over and over again what Parker's expression might have been when she opened the gift he'd sent her on that first Christmas out. No, it went back even further to the butterflies in his stomach when he'd call her at home to taunt her. Hadn't meeting and spending those few precious days with Nia compelled him to recognize, at least on some level, the complex and conflicted nature of his feelings toward his huntress? And they'd been through so much together since; he now knew the woman she'd become better than he'd known the girl she'd been. With more to know there was more to... Admire? Like? Desire?
All of the above, actually, and he was now sharing a room with this admirable, likeable, and desirable woman. And not just any room - because neither of them ever did anything by halves - but a room in one of the most romantic inns in the country. Well, he thought as he turned the key, this ought to be interesting.
"Leave it open," Parker called over her shoulder as she stood in the center of the room and glanced around her. "There's a nice breeze from the river."
Relieved to be afforded this option, Jarod nodded and pulled only the screen door closed behind him. Setting the bags down, he watched in silence as she strolled around the room, taking in little details and occasionally running her fingers over an object or a piece of fabric. He thought he could detect an air of approbation but her enigmatic demeanor made it difficult to know for sure.
The concept of romance remained an elusive one. He comprehended the science of human sexuality, the role of pheromones and hormones, as well as socialization within the context of prevailing codes of morality and social norms. But romance? To Jarod much of it seemed contrived, silly, and, more to the point, disappointing to the people so desperately seeking it. It often appeared that the only ones truly benefiting were retailers specializing in lingerie, candy and flowers.
The atmosphere in this room challenged his previous assessment. Rich, dark wood paneling and lush, deep jewel tones evoked warmth and abundance, which combined with the soft, gentle sounds of wind rustling through the trees and the river flowing lazily by to give one a sense of complete serenity and privacy. In this environment it would be easy to pretend that he and Parker were the only two people on earth. And what if they were? Well, there would be no Centre for one thing, and no reason for her to chase him or for him to run from her. Outside the roles of prey and predator they would simply be a man and a woman free to...
Jarod was mercifully distracted from this train of thought when Parker leaned into the bathroom doorway to flip on the light. She muttered "Yup, that's a clawfoot tub alright," then switched it off again and paced back to the center of the room where she stood in silence, her expression as unreadable as ever. He felt his heartbeat accelerate with every second that ticked by in silence until he couldn't stand it any longer and blurted,
"I'm sorry!"
"For what?" she inquired with a look of genuine puzzlement.
"For this..." He motioned around the room then stammered, "This... this... inconvenience. When Harriet and I began planning this, I wasn't sure how cooperative you'd be, or if I'd be able to risk letting you out of my sight for an instant."
"Well, that's a relief," she commented with a sigh then added with the faintest wry smile, "The first thing you did whenever we stopped someplace was case the ladies room and I was HOPING that was the reason."
Jarod smiled grudgingly. She was making this impossible. "The point is," he continued with a sigh, "that you have acted in good faith since you agreed to join me and I now have complete confidence that if left on your own you wouldn't do anything to jeopardize my freedom or Harriet's safety. But she had already booked us here as a couple and if we requested two rooms now it would raise eyebrows, draw attention, make us conspicuous."
"I get it, Wonderboy," Parker interjected with just a hint of impatience in her voice.
"Well, anyway," he went on softly as he contemplated an especially riveting spot on the floor. "That's why I'm apologizing. I should have given you the benefit of the doubt."
"Based on what?"
The complete absence of irony in her tone caused Jarod to look up and meet her eyes. No trace of irony there either, just two wide, questioning, and painfully beautiful blue orbs staring back at him, drawing him in. Could he really talk to her about it? Could he seriously consider sharing even a few of the thoughts and feelings that had plagued him over the past few days? He found the prospect terrifying; it would, after all, be an unprecedented breach of their unspoken agreement that certain topics were to be skirted or, better yet, avoided altogether. And yet the compulsion to speak grew with every moment he held her eyes, a pressure building almost to the point of pain until...
There was a polite but firm knock on the screen door.
"Sorry to bother you," the innkeeper offered with an apologetic smile. "But I thought this might be too important to wait. It must have been when I was out running errands, and we've been so busy today that it slipped Brian's mind until I mentioned that you'd arrived. Harriet stopped by earlier to leave a message for you."
* * * *
"Splendid," Parker groaned then closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.
Frowning, Jarod explained, "Harriet's work in the Tejano community is very important; the people here have become like family to her. When someone calls, she has no choice but to be there."
"And we have no choice but wait it out here in the middle of nowhere," she replied with a sigh then turned to stare glumly out the screen door.
"This is hardly the middle of nowhere, Parker. We're in beautiful Texas Hill Country, at The Gruene Mansion Inn no less..."
They exchanged a glance then quickly looked away. An awkward silence descended. Jarod cursed himself under his breath as he stared resolutely at the floor, his cheeks burning. The tension was back, having temporarily yielded to disappointment when they learned that Harriet was unavoidably detained and wouldn't be able to see them until the next day.
Now what? He hadn't entertained the possibility of being alone with Parker with nothing to do but kill time but then, in keeping with the day's theme, very little about the whole enterprise had gone as expected. Clearly, he'd done a heck of a job planning for every contingency. Some genius: if the Centre PTBs could only see him now, they'd probably call off the search immediately.
"I get first dibs on the bathroom."
"Huh?" Jarod muttered, looking up to see that Parker was crouched over her bag.
"Two days of freshening up in rest stop bathrooms is two days too many. Besides, I need to scrub off the nun residue before I break out in a rash."
To his look of amused skepticism she responded with complete deadpan, "Skin sensitivity to nuns is quite common among Catholic school alumni," then went back to rifling through her bag. When she produced a couple delicate, silky articles of clothing, Jarod knew it was his cue to leave.
"While you're..." He nodded toward the bathroom then continued, "I think I'll take a stroll around town."
"Take your time," she replied. "I'm going to soak for a while."
Well, that was an image he didn't need. "O... okay," he stammered. "How long will you... should I...?"
"An hour should do it, and give you time to find out what, if anything, goes on this town. I have no intention of sitting around here all evening bored out of my skull. And, take my word for it, you don't want that either."
He nodded and sighed then wordlessly exited the room. Bouncing down the porch steps into the afternoon sunshine, he recalled their childhood at the Centre, when a proclamation of boredom from Miss Parker was usually followed by an escapade that landed them both in a heap of trouble. He could almost hear that tone of weary disappointment in Sydney's voice as he demanded, "What were you thinking, Jarod?" He would reply with a shrug that inevitably earned him a ticket back to his room for an evening without game or reading privileges. As much as he hated letting down his mentor in those days, it was impossible to produce a satisfactory answer because, the truth was, he'd been barely thinking at all.
He turned to gaze at the door he'd just passed through, shook his head, then turned again and proceeded walking at a leisurely pace around the building toward the street. Now as then, it would be so easy to stop thinking around her. Only now the consequences would be far more serious than a reprimand from Sydney. With that thought he picked up the pace. Parker was right; they had to get the hell out of that room.
# # # #
