by Sharon Sala
The house was an old Tudor-style place built back in the early 1900s. The present owner, a seventy-seven-year old widow named Margaret Tyler, had lived there for more than forty years. According to Johnny’s research, although Mabel was very wealthy, she’d become a bit of a recluse after her husband’s death. She had no children, no living relatives in the area, and no regular routine. A cleaning service came once a week on Mondays, and since today was Tuesday, Johnny had almost an entire week before he needed to be concerned about being discovered, which made this location perfect for what he had in mind.
Without hesitation, he drove his car along the driveway that circled to the back of the house to the detached garages, then parked in one of the vacant spaces. After retrieving his suitcase from the trunk, he headed for the back door. It took less than a minute to pick the lock.
Once inside, he stood for a moment to get his bearings. The scent of coffee was still in the air, and there was a faint dusting of toast crumbs on the counter near a toaster. It seemed he’d missed breakfast with Mabel. Too bad. She might have been an interesting woman to know, but he didn’t have time for chitchat. He carried his suitcase through the house and then up the stairs. An array of bedrooms beckoned to be chosen, but he had to meet his hostess first.
“Mabel! Are you home?”
Seconds later, an elderly woman stepped out into the hallway, still holding a pillow and a pillow case in her hand.
“Ah, making the beds, are you?” Johnny said.
Mabel clutched the pillow against her breasts as the man started toward her.
“Who are you? How did you get in my house?”
He smiled. “Oh, that’s easy. I’m Johnny Newton. I picked the lock on your back door.”
Mabel gasped, then dropped the pillow as she moved back into the bedroom, toward the phone. Johnny caught her from behind before she could pick up the receiver and broke her neck with one vicious twist. As he threw her dead body over his shoulder, he paused for a moment to look around.
“Damn, Mabel…nice room,” he said, and then headed back down the stairs.
Considering the heat this time of year, he needed to dump Mabel’s body as far away from the main area of the house as possible. All old houses like this had full basements with lots of nooks and crannies. It should be perfect.
Sure enough, he found a door to the basement just off the laundry room in an area that had once been used as servants’ quarters. He turned on a light at the head of the stairs, then carried her down.
The old coal furnace that had once heated the house had been replaced by central heat and air units, but there were several small closetlike rooms beneath the stairs. He chose the one farthest from the stairs and dumped her inside beside a box marked Christmas tree ornaments, then whistled as he returned to the main level.
Now that he had settled the question of his stakeout location, he felt much more relaxed. Rummaging through the fridge, he found the makings for a sandwich, poured himself a glass of milk, and carried it into the living room, choosing a seat with a good view to the house across the street.
He set his milk on an end table, propped his feet up on an antique cherry-wood coffee table and took a bite of his sandwich. The turkey was seasoned to perfection, the lettuce and tomato crisp and fresh. He would have preferred mustard to mayonnaise, but obviously Mabel did not, because he hadn’t been able to find any. Still, it was a good beginning to his day’s work. He polished off the sandwich while watching the media circus outside and began making plans to add to the confusion.
Unaware of the fate of his poor neighbor, Sam Cochrane was busy making plans of his own. Ever since Jade’s arrival, he had been cleaning out two large adjoining rooms on the third floor of his house. Since Jade was spending almost all her time at the hospital, it had been simple to do this without revealing his purpose.
Less than an hour ago, the art supplies that he’d ordered had been delivered. Velma had taken the curtains from the windows to let in more light, and polished the brass and the wood trim until all of it shined. Sam had moved all but a few chairs and a couple of small tables into other areas of the house, making room for the large storage cabinet, as well as an assortment of stretched canvases and easels.
Michael Tessler had warned him that it was only a matter of time before Raphael succumbed. Tessler had also warned Sam that because Jade and Raphael were so close, she was not only going to suffer normal grief, but that it was very possible she would suffer survivor’s guilt, as well. Sam was heartsick for Jade and had spent many hours with her at Raphael’s bedside, showing her in the only way he knew how that he cared. And while she’d nodded and smiled in all the right places and thanked him for what he was doing, they both knew the emotional bond that should have been there was missing. It was during one of those times that he’d remembered her skill as an artist, and thought that, maybe later, if she had a place of her own to practice that outlet, it might help with the grief.
And now it was finished. There was nothing left to buy. He shifted a stack of canvases from one side of the room to the other, then stepped back to admire what he’d done. His work here was finished. He felt sadness for the day when this would be revealed to Jade, because that would mean Raphael was gone, but if it gave her even a measure of relief, it would be worth it. Satisfied that he’d done what he’d set out to do, he left, quietly closing the door behind him.
Otis Jacks was scheduled for reconstructive surgery on Wednesday, then developed a toothache on Monday. After a quick visit to a dentist, he was informed that he had an abscessed wisdom tooth that needed to be pulled. But before that could happen, he was going to have to take a round of antibiotics to get rid of the infection. And because of the abscessed tooth, the scheduled surgery to change his face also had to be postponed.
So now he lay propped up in bed with an ice pack on his jaw and the remote control for his new plasma television in his hand, killing time until he could make his escape.
The forced inactivity had also given him time to think about the dangers of delay. A few phone calls had netted him information that made him realize how risky that delay might be.
“Damned tooth,” he muttered, then aimed the remote and turned off the TV.
He reached for the bottle of painkillers on his bedside table, popped a couple in his mouth and downed them with a big swallow of water. He would have preferred bourbon, neat, but he knew from experience that codeine and whiskey didn’t mix. He’d lost one of his best porn stars to just such an incident last year and was in no mood to follow her into oblivion.
Still, his nerves were on edge and would be until he got himself out of the States. As he lay there, waiting for the painkillers to start working, he couldn’t help but curse the luck that had brought Jade Cochrane back into his life.
It had been three days since Big Frank Lawson had made the call that sent Johnny Newton to St. Louis. Three long days without a word. Each day Frank checked the papers and diligently watched all the national news broadcasts, hoping that the return of Sam Cochrane’s daughter was becoming old news. To his dismay, it seemed to be just the reverse. There was news footage of a beautiful, dark-haired woman going in and out of a local hospital. Speculation as to why she was there ran the gamut of guesses, although the consensus was that the man she was living with when she was found was gravely ill. Although they did not mention the man’s name, Frank suspected it was Raphael and wished them both to hell the hard way. Frustrated that all was not going according to his plans, he reached for his cell phone. He’d hired a man to do a job, and ineptitude was not something he tolerated. As far as he was concerned, Johnny Newton should have checked in with an update, but since he hadn’t, Big Frank was going to check in with him.
Raphael’s condition was stable, so at Sam’s urging, Jade had taken time to come home with him this morning. When they’d walked out of the hospital, she’d been startled by the heat and clear skies. She’d been so focused on Raphael that she’d almost forgotten what it f
elt like to wake up to a normal day. And just for a while, she needed to pretend that everything was okay.
Sam cupped her elbow as they started toward the parking lot. When he did, she looked up at him and smiled. With each passing day, she was becoming more comfortable with him. A couple of times since she’d been home, she’d experienced what could only be called déjà vu. Once it had been as she walked into the kitchen. The scent of cinnamon had been faint but persistent, and there had been a blue coffee cup sitting in a slice of sunshine on the countertop. She’d been staggered by the sight and the memory that had come with it. Her mother laughing as she stuffed an oversized bite of cinnamon roll into her father’s mouth. A blue cup sitting on a counter just out of her reach.
The other time, as she’d been going up the stairs, she’d had the feeling that if she turned around, her father would be right behind her with his hand on her shoulder and a little pink blanket in his hand. She hadn’t told him, but she’d thought about it. If the memories were real, then it was true that he’d loved her—loved them both.
Now, sitting beside him in the car as he maneuvered through traffic, she thought of it again and looked at him. He was a handsome man, with a full head of steel-gray hair. Despite what was happening, he seemed to handle each setback with clarity and purpose. Even more, he made Jade feel safe, which didn’t make sense. Logically, he was a man she’d met only days earlier. With her history, every emotional warning bell should be going off, and yet it was just the opposite.
“Sam, can I ask you something?” Jade asked.
Surprised that she’d initiated a conversation, Sam could barely hide his joy.
“Of course,” he said, then tapped the brakes as a light turned red at the intersection they were approaching.
“The other day…in the house…I think I remembered something. Well, actually, two somethings.”
Sam’s eyes widened. “Really? Like what?”
She shrugged. “It wasn’t much. More like a picture that is flashed before your eyes and then taken away, but I’ve been wondering if it’s something I really remembered or if it’s just my imagination.”
The light turned green. He accelerated through the intersection, then urged her to continue.
“Tell me,” he said.
“We’re all in the kitchen. My mother is laughing and stuffing a huge bite of cinnamon roll into your mouth. You have cinnamon and sugar on your chin, and you’re trying to do the same thing to her, only she’s avoiding the sweet roll that you’re holding in your hand.”
Sam inhaled slowly, then pulled over into a side street and parked. When he turned to look at Jade, there were tears in his eyes.
“That wasn’t a dream, honey. It really happened. We used to play like that together a lot, especially in the beginning. That’s why I was so stunned when she ran away. I didn’t know she was that unhappy.”
“I don’t think she was unhappy,” Jade said. “I think she was selfish and self-centered. If she’d been thinking about me, she wouldn’t have wanted me within a thousand miles of the People of Joy.”
Sam was startled by the anger. He hadn’t realized that Jade blamed her mother for the hardships of her past. He should have, but he hadn’t.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what she was thinking when she took you, but I truly believe that she loved you too much to leave you behind.”
Jade’s laugh was sharp and bitter. “Love like that can kill you.” Then she waved her hand in the air, as if brushing away the past, and moved on to her other memory. “Remember the other day when you brought me home from the hospital so I could take a shower and change my clothes?”
“Yes?”
“Well, I was walking up the stairs when suddenly it seemed that I’d walked up those stairs a lot of times before and that you were right beside me with your hand on my shoulder. Oh…and you were carrying a little pink blanket. I think it was mine. Was that a real memory?”
Sam’s breath caught at the back of his throat. She was remembering their night-time ritual.
“Yes, and when we get home, there’s something I want to show you,” he said, and pulled away from the curb.
A short while later they reached the house. There were still a couple of vans from local television stations, but the national news crews were starting to disperse, leaving the prodigal daughter story for something new. The media still in the area had been restricted from the immediate vicinity of Sam’s home, so it was becoming easier for Jade to pretend they weren’t even there. Still, it had been disconcerting to see herself on film on the evening news, going in and out of the hospital, or walking out of Sam’s house to get in the car. And there had been the story of her homecoming on the front page of the biggest St. Louis paper with the picture that had run when she disappeared, as well as one of her now. It hadn’t occurred to her that the story had been picked up and was running nationwide. If it had, she would have panicked for certain. The last thing she wanted was for Solomon to know where she was. Even now, she still feared his power.
Sam took her hand as they started toward the house, unaware that they were being watched from the house across the street. But as Jade got out of the car, the hair on the back of her neck began to crawl. She turned abruptly, expecting to see someone with a camera trained on them. Instead she saw nothing out of the ordinary.
“What’s wrong?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “It just felt like someone was watching us.”
Sam snorted beneath his breath. “That’s because they probably are. Damned reporters have all kinds of fancy gadgets at their disposal these days. Telescopic lenses and the like. Come along, dear. Don’t give them a thought.”
Jade followed Sam’s advice and hurried into the house. Once the door was shut behind them, the feeling disappeared, which convinced her that Sam had been right.
“What was it you wanted to show me?” she asked.
Sam took her by the hand. “It’s upstairs.”
She let him lead her up the stairs, then off to another wing of the house that she hadn’t been in.
“What’s down here?” she asked, as they started down a long hallway.
“It’s the family wing,” he said. “My bedroom is here.” Then he stopped at a door and pushed it ajar. “This room was yours.”
Jade gasped. “Why haven’t you shown me this before?”
He frowned. “At first, you seemed so hostile at even being here, I was afraid you’d think that I was pushing you to remember.”
“I’m sorry,” Jade said. “May I go in?”
“It’s why I brought you here,” Sam said, and then stepped aside.
Jade walked in and was immediately struck with the sensation of having walked into a sort of museum. The furnishings were obviously for a little girl—a four-poster bed with pink and white decor. The pictures on the walls were of Winnie the Pooh, and there was a rag doll reclining against the pillows.
She picked up the doll, ruffling her fingers through the yarn hair, and then held it to her face. It smelled of furniture polish and age, with a faint whiff of lavender thrown in.
“You didn’t change a thing, did you?”
“No.”
“Why? Twenty years? What were you waiting for?”
Sam sighed, then briefly laid his hand on the back of her head. “I don’t know…. A miracle, I guess. But it’s not this room, precisely, that I wanted you to see.” He crossed to a cedar chest beneath the windows and opened the lid. When he turned around, he was holding a bundle of pink. “It’s your blanket. You never slept without it.”
Jade took it, feeling the softness of the pink flannel against the palm of her hand. It smelled of cedar.
“It used to smell like roses. Why did it smell like roses?”
Sam sat down on the side of the small bed, because his legs suddenly felt weak.
“God. You do remember.” Then he looked up at her. “It smelled like roses because your mother had a favorite perfume ca
lled Roses. You always begged her to spray it on your lovey.” He pointed to the blanket. “That’s what you called it.”
Lovey. She sat down on the bed beside Sam. As she did, a sense of peace began to seep into her soul. For a long, long time, she hadn’t belonged anywhere, or cared for anyone but Raphael. But coming back here had started a chain reaction of memories, memories that reminded her that she’d belonged here first—and to Sam.
She sighed, then slowly pulled the blanket up close to her chest and, without looking at Sam, leaned against him until their shoulders were touching.
It wasn’t much of a gesture, but it was enough to convince Sam that his miracle had come true.
“How about I ask Velma to fix us some breakfast while you shower? Oh, and there are some new clothes for you in your closet. If they don’t fit, or you don’t like the styles, don’t hesitate to tell me. They can go back to the stores as easily as they came.”
Jade looked up. Sam was so earnest—so good. If only he never had to know what his baby girl had endured. If only the bubble never had to burst.
“Thank you for being so good to me,” she said.
Sam put his arm around her then and gave her a quick hug.
“You’re my daughter. If I could, I would give you the moon and Raphael back his health.”
She smiled sadly. “Unfortunately, both are impossible.”
“I know, dear, and I’m so, so sorry.”
Jade relished the comfort of his strength as she leaned against him.
“I can never repay you for what you’re doing for Rafie.”
“The only thing I want from you is something you already have. When you remember it, too, then we’ll both be happy.”
She frowned. “Something I already have? What’s that?”
“To remember how much I loved you…and how much you loved me.” Then he stood abruptly, forestalling a response. “About that breakfast…do you fancy anything special?”
Jade shook her head. “Maybe waffles. She makes really good waffles.”
