Jed's Sweet Revenge

by Deborah Smith

  Jed was suddenly aware of her nimble fingers tickling the inside of his denimed thigh. She was still reading, her face a mask of concentration. He glanced at her, tried to ignore her for at least five minutes, but finally gave into the wonderful heat that spread outward from her unexpected caress.

  “Lord, gal, what are you tryin’ to do?”

  “It says here that you’re supposed to like this.”

  “I do, but not at sixty miles an hour.”

  “People do this all the time, it says here.” Still reading, her attitude serious and clinical, she unzipped his jeans and began sliding her hand inside. “Now I’ll just—oh, my, I don’t have to do anything, do I.” Lovers fell to the floor and her gaze darted to his lap. Her fingers stroked the magnificent result of their bold invasion. “Jedidiah,” she whispered throatily. “Jedidiah, that magazine is very informative.”

  His eyes were half-closed, his breathing a little shallow. “Did it tell you what happens next, Miss Witch?”

  “Uhmmm, no, I hadn’t got to that part yet. I can … make a logical deduction, however.”

  He pulled off at the next exit and found a dirt road that took them to the middle of nowhere. Then he cut the engine and slid across the seat, his eyes daring her deliciously, his hands already reaching for her legs. Thena smiled breathlessly at the impatient hunger with which he captured her. His hands pushed her sundress off her shoulders and rubbed her bare breasts, her thighs, her stomach, skimming waves of pleasure across her skin, making her feel wild and tender and greedy all at once.

  “I’d love to keep going,” he murmured in a gravelly voice. “But we better not. Not here.”

  Thena raked her hands through his hair and made a soft, plaintive sound. “I love you, Jedidiah. I want you.”

  “I love you, too … now don’t go doin’ that … don’t coax me like that … oh, gal, you win.”

  When they finally got back on the highway, Jed drove with one hand and put his other around her shoulders. Both of them were smiling and quiet. Eventually he said in a droll voice, “Thena, I’m gonna buy you a subscription to that magazine.”

  The cavernous terminal of Atlanta’s ultramodern international airport left her speechless. As Jed waited at one of the car rental counters to return the Olds, he let his eyes flicker protectively to where she stood studying the selections on a newsstand. His gaze softened every time he looked at her, because she was so beautiful and so unaware of it.

  She wore her lacy sundress with sandals and a delicate white sweater that emphasized the billowing dark mane of hair down her back. Men eyed her with open intrigue, and Jed frowned in surprise. Of course he’d always known that she was too beautiful and exotic not to draw attention from other men, but he’d never had to deal with that fact on Sancia. He shifted, impatient to finish with the car chore and get back beside her.

  He watched as she flinched at the beeping alert of a small courtesy shuttle and turned around to stare. As the shuttle rolled past her, she raised one hand and waved tentatively at the man who drove it. He smiled and nodded. She smiled and nodded.

  Jed shook his head in gentle amusement. This was like that movie, Crocodile Dundee, about the naive Australian who visited New York City. At baggage check-in, Thena had politely asked the clerk when he was going to examine her suitcase for drugs and bombs. He gave her a long, straight-faced appraisal, then said almost to himself, “Naaaah,” and handed her a claim check. Jed led her away quickly. Next, she’d noticed a man using a bank teller machine and wondered if the airport had installed a game that gave prize money. Then she’d asked Jed if the two of them could hurry so they’d be first in line to board their plane. She wanted to beat the rush for the best seats.

  The car clerk spoke to Jed, taking his attention. When he finished with the clerk and turned toward the newsstand again, Thena had disappeared. Jed halted, his heart jerking with alarm as he scanned the terminal. Relief made his knees weak when he located Thena at a small booth near the concourse escalators. She was talking amicably to an orange-robed man with a shaved head. The man seemed utterly delighted.

  His expression determined and his attitude firm, Jed strolled over to the booth. She looked up excitedly. “This is a follower of Krishna, Jedidiah. We’re discussing the Bhagavad Gita. I love it. It’s a fascinating Sanskrit poem.” She looked back at the man. “What a novel way for you to seek converts by setting up this booth in the airport. How dedicated.”

  With an attitude of resignation, Jed retrieved a twenty-dollar bill from his jeans pocket and pressed it into the man’s outstretched hand. “Hare Krishna,” the man said in thanks.

  “Mmmm. Holy moly.” Then he took Thena’s arm and guided her away. She waved good-bye to her new friend, then looked at Jed, her eyes gleaming with amazement.

  “Why did you give him money?”

  “That’s what he’s there for, sweetheart. That’s why he talks to people. Since you liked his poetry, I reckoned you’d like to contribute to his cause, whatever it is.”

  She was silent, pondering such an exploitative enterprise on the man’s part. “My goodness,” she whispered, stunned. “Talk isn’t cheap on the mainland, is it?”

  He chuckled. “That’s all right, Miss Dundee, I’ve got plenty of money, and you’re welcome to use it in any way that makes you happy.” He paused. “Except you can’t buy any more of those durned coconut heads.”

  “Miss Dundee?”

  He put his arm around her. “Never mind. The point is, I want you to have a good time. I don’t want you to feel bad about leavin’ the island for one minute.”

  Jed had never really blessed his extraordinary wealth before, but now he did. It seemed fitting that his grandfather’s money should be used to make Thena happy. She was, after all, the heart and soul of the island old Gregg had once loved. Fancy rental cars, first-class airline seats, a California shopping spree to buy Thena whatever caught her eye—these luxuries were what she deserved, and Jed intended to provide them.

  As they sat in their plush airplane seats, waiting to taxi, Thena clutched Jed’s strong, warm hand and looked out the window, fighting tears. She loved him, and she was going to give his complicated world a fair chance.

  Then, like Tasoneela and Gabel, they were going to come back where they belonged.

  Eleven

  Noise. Confusion. Crowds. Mickey Mouse. Thena glued wistful eyes to the giant cartoon character, seeking comfort for her jangled nerves. He waved to the sweaty mass of humanity and smiled his manufactured, frozen smile as he paraded down the studiously quaint Disneyland street.

  People bumped into Thena in their attempts to secure a good view of him, their cameras poking her arms, their drinks sloshing dangerously near her new outfit—pink twill shorts with a snug white belt, a blue polo shirt, and pristine white Reeboks. She wasn’t fond of the clothes, but the saleslady at the fashionable store had told her and Jed that they were just right for Disneyland. Her new bra, a necessity under the clingy shirt, was itchy and confining. She shifted nervously.

  Confinement was a way of life on the mainland, it seemed. She’d never seen so many buildings crammed onto such small pieces of land. People liked to stay inside here; they preferred their air-conditioning to the outdoor air. She had to agree that the air smelled and tasted bad. In fact, if taste had a color, California’s air tasted brown. But the luxurious hotel suite Jed had gotten had no windows she could open, and after a few hours locked inside it, she craved air, even brown air, that wasn’t still and dry and cold.

  On the mainland, pets were as confined as their owners, and that upset her worst of all. Yesterday, as she and Jed were walking along a street near the hotel, she’d spotted a big dog that resembled Godiva, sitting alone in a parked car at the curb. Worried, Thena put her fingertips on the closed car window and looked directly into the prisoners eyes, and nothing Jed could say convinced her that the dog wasn’t tragically depressed.

  In his quiet way, Jed had gotten angry at her stubbornness. She�
��d sensed that her whimsical notions about animals made him impatient, and she’d barely suppressed her disappointment. Oh, he loved and respected animals—he wasn’t a cruel man. But she realized for the first time that he wasn’t sentimental about them in the way she was. He was used to making his living from the servitude of animals, after all. They were a business.

  The discovery that she didn’t know Jed as well as she’d believed had added to her silent melancholy. The discovery that California traffic was terrible had added more. Everyone secluded themselves in cars here, and everyone drove fast. The streets outside the hotel bustled in a way that panicked her, though she never told Jed.

  During their first night away from Sancia, she’d suffered a horrible nightmare, the first in more than a year, about the accident that killed Nate and her parents. She awoke shaking, in silent tears, and crept out of bed carefully so she wouldn’t wake Jed. She spent the next hour huddled by their room’s big window, staring forlornly at the night sky. She would learn to like the mainland, but only for Jed’s sake.

  Disneyland, oddly enough, was the most confining place of all. Did mainlanders enjoy waiting in long lines for everything? she wondered. They waited patiently, but as they waited, they gripped their cameras and umbrellas and handbags with a possessiveness she couldn’t fathom. Why, no one would steal from a person at Disneyland, would they?

  Mickey Mouse fans closed in on her, blocking her line of vision, their colognes, perfumes, and suntan lotions a cloying combination. Suddenly claustrophobia and homesickness overwhelmed her. But she couldn’t leave this spot, because Jed, who’d gone to get them both a soft drink, would never find her again, and the idea of being lost from him in this crazy, frightening wonderland made her tremble.

  She couldn’t, she shouldn’t—a large, thick-faced young man in a tank top and tight jeans leaned over and leered, “Hey, sweet mama, if you got the time, I got the place”—and she bolted.

  Thena pushed her way through the huge crowd until she reached a water fountain. She clung to it, white-knuckled, as if an inanimate object was the only friend she could find.

  “Thena!” She looked around frantically and spotted Jed easing through the crowd toward her. Even he wasn’t familiar, she thought in despair. Dark designer sunglasses hid his eyes, and he wore crisp white tennis shorts, a white Izod shirt, and white Reeboks similar to hers. Rich, sleek, incredibly handsome—he was all of those likeable things, but she wanted her dusty cowboy back.

  He frowned as he reached the water fountain. “Woman, this ain’t the right time for you to get the itch to wander.” She relaxed a little at the sound of his low, teasing growl. Jed would always be Jed—loving, dear, and concerned.

  “Oh,” she answered in a voice that strained for lightness, “I just felt a little too hot. I needed a drink of water.”

  “You okay, wildflower?” He handed her a tall paper cup full of ice and soft drink, then slipped an arm around her shoulders.

  “Sure.” Her head bobbed in something resembling an enthusiastic nod.

  “Did you get a good gander at the fake mouse?” He’d never admit to being fascinated by a cartoon mouse himself, she thought with gentle amusement, and his cynical choice of words showed that.

  “Yes, indeed. He’s very cute.”

  “How about some lunch?”

  “Is there … is there a quiet place somewhere …”

  “Your face is white, gal. Are you feelin’ sick?”

  Sick, scared, and depressed, yes. “I’m okay.”

  “Thena.” His tone rebuked her gently. “Have you seen all you can take of this place? Tell the truth.” She nodded, looking defeated. “Come on, gal.” He steered her through the crowd, using his body to block a path for her.

  Tenderness and gratitude mingled inside her. “I love you, Jedidiah,” she said fervently. “You’re trying so hard to take care of me.”

  “Are you havin’ a good time, darlin’?”

  “Oh, yes. But I think I’d like to visit Hollywood sooner than we intended. Could we drive up this afternoon?” She needed a dose of romantic glamour; she knew she’d feel better if she could just visit the source of all her beloved old movies.

  “Anything you want, sweetheart. We’ll just pack up and mosey along to Hollywood, then.”

  She smiled crookedly and sighed with relief. “Head ’em up and move ’em out.”

  Greer Garson and Barbara Stanwyck gleamed, but most everyone else, including her idol, Judy Garland, was dirty. Thena sadly studied the stars’ names on the sidewalk plaques, then looked up and studied Hollywood’s most famous intersection with even more sorrow. Hollywood and Vine, the place of her fanciful dreams, was tacky and run-down.

  And the people who frequented it weren’t the stuff stars were made of, she thought, unless one was casting for bums, winos, criminal types, and loitering young women with an odd manner of peering in the windows of stopped cars. Earlier she’d asked Jed what the women meant by such rude behavior.

  He shook his head at her naïveté and surveyed her with mild astonishment. “They’re doin’ man business,” he said gently. “You savvy what I mean?”

  “Ah. Ah, yes.” Her eyes narrowed in concentration.

  “Don’t look at ’em like you just discovered a new breed of sea turtle and you gotta check it out,” he warned in a droll voice. “If you wander over there and talk to one of ’em, I’m not payin’ her twenty bucks—not even if she’s a Hare Krishna on the side.”

  Thena shook her head wearily. She didn’t want to get any closer to mainland sadness than she already had. “I’m going to look for Rudolph Valentino,” she announced, and meandered down the sidewalk.

  “Well, just don’t look in any car windows for him.”

  There were 1,844 star plaques in the sidewalks, Thena’s tourist brochure said. Jed worked his way in the opposite direction from her, searching for John Wayne. Thena found Rudolph’s star and studied it earnestly. A whooshing sound caught her attention, and she glanced up.

  Thena gasped, shocked to see a wretched-looking old woman down on all fours scrubbing one of the plaques with a soapy rag. Her stained polyester pant-suit looked like a good candidate for rag status itself. Her hair was cut as close as a man’s, and her scrawny face was an accordian of wrinkles. She was as impoverished and ugly as the buildings behind her. Thena walked over to the woman and knelt down, her heart overflowing with sympathy.

  “Can I help you wash that?” she asked pleasantly.

  Rheumy old eyes, suspicious and mean, glared up at her. “Beat it, you pandhandler.”

  Thena blinked swiftly, and her face colored. “I don’t want any money. I want to help.”

  The old voice rose to a curdling shriek. “Clark Gable’s all I got left, and nobody washes his star but me!” Her shrillness stabbed at Thena’s senses. “Especially not a foreigner!”

  Thena stood, mortified. Foreigner? Did her odd accent—Southern and slightly French—mark her as even more of an outsider? Footsteps hurried up behind her.

  “What’s the problem?” Jed asked, as he angled himself between her and the woman’s violent glare. Thena looked around in chagrin. Other people were staring at her, and a pair of teenage boys with spikes set in their hair—wait a second, those spikes were their hair—snickered with unconcealed enjoyment as they strode past. Thena whispered urgently, “Give me some money, Jedidiah, please.”

  He arched one brow in surprise, but handed her a twenty. She held it out to the woman. “Will you wash Judy Garland’s star for me?”

  Jed understood Thena’s kind motive and quickly handed her another twenty. “And John Wayne’s too,” he said.

  A bony hand snapped forward and snatched the bills from Thena. “Yeah. The Duke and Judy. Got it.” The voice was still loud and resentful.

  “Thank you,” Thena murmured. She pivoted and grabbed Jed’s arm, her eyes glistening with tears. “Can we go back to the hotel?”

  He surveyed the disillusionment in her eyes and winced a
t her pain. He knew that the first few days of their trip had been a stressful, unpleasant experience for her. “It’ll get better, sweetheart,” he said with quiet, desperate firmness.

  Her fingers dug into his arm. “Please. Please, can we go back to the hotel?”

  “You’re not bein’ fair, Thena.…”

  “If you won’t take me,” she said emphatically. “I’ll go on my own.”

  She saw the exasperation and worry rising behind his hazel eyes, as well as the annoyance. His voice was low and tight. “Fine. We’ll go hide, if that’s what you want.”

  That hurt, and she shot him an accusing, wounded look. They turned silently, not touching, and walked toward the car.

  They had a plush hotel room near Beverly Hills. It was late afternoon when they arrived there, and low rays of sunlight angled through a pair of magnificent louvered windows to make patterns on the king-size bed.

  “I’m going to take a nap,” Thena murmured. She lay down on the thick, satiny coverlet and looked over her shoulder at Jed, her heart twisting with unhappiness. Except for a few quiet, neutral words, they hadn’t spoken since walking to the car. Anger hung in the air, bitter and black. Jed lowered himself into a fat, contemporary-style armchair and opened a copy of Tom Sawyer, one she’d given him.

  Weary and depressed, Thena put a hand out and closed it around the patterned, golden sunshine that washed across the bed, thinking of the way the afternoon rays always turned Sancia’s western shores into a blaze of color. She drew her hand next to her face as if she were bringing sunshine and hope close to her. Comforted, she dozed.

  Jed sat very still, his eyes burning as he considered her wistful gesture. She hurts, he thought sadly. She wants to go home. What the hell am I going to do? A minute later, he went over to the bed, lay down close to her, and cupped his body to her back and hips. He curled an arm around her waist and gently buried his face in her hair. She sighed softly and snuggled against him in a way that made the earlier anger evaporate from his thoughts.