A Love for Safekeeping

by Gail Gaymer Martin

  Jane forced her mind to push aside her quandary. By evening, she was eager to see him. When she caught the flash of headlights across the living room wall, she hurried to the door and pulled it open before he rang the bell. “Well, if it isn’t Redmond’s finest.”

  She heard Kyle chuckle. “Great. That saves me a lot of time trying to impress you.”

  Jane stepped back, motioning him into the house.

  “Have a seat. I’m just about ready.”

  She hurried out of the living room and stood in the bathroom, talking to herself in the mirror. Besides his striking appearance out of uniform, she had the first-date jitters. Her cheeks glowed, announcing her excitement. She took deep breaths, and when she felt in control, she joined Kyle, and they left for dinner.

  As the evening progressed, Jane found conversation easy, yet selected. Both seemed to be holding back pieces of themselves. When they returned to her house, Kyle shuttled her to the front door like a bodyguard.

  Inside, Jane gestured to a recliner. “I’ll put on some coffee.”

  Instead, Kyle followed her to the kitchen. “I’d rather stick with you…if that’s okay?”

  Concern ruffled Jane’s thoughts. His wariness set her on edge. He’d tried to pooh-pooh her fears. Did he sense something wrong or not? Fearing his response, she was afraid to ask.

  Kyle leaned against the counter and watched her pull cups and plates from the cabinet. When he caught sight of the pies, his face beamed like a child. “You made those for me?”

  His strapping size and his boyish charm were a paradoxical delight. The tension she’d felt moments earlier slipped away.

  He peered at the two pies. “Strawberry, and what’s this one?” He poked his finger at the crust until it broke through. Ogling his jam-coated fingertip, he licked away the syrupy fruit.

  She eyed his tongue playfully capturing the filling, and felt a tingle roll through her chest.

  “It’s peach, in case you can’t tell.” She grinned, seeing his pleased expression.

  “You’re a pal.” He put an arm around her shoulder, giving her a fleeting hug. His nearness wrapped her in a safe cocoon and the heady scent of his aftershave enveloped her senses.

  After cutting the pies, Kyle helped her carry the cups and hefty slices covered with ice cream into the living room. He sat on the love seat, placing his mug on the small coffee table, and Jane followed, sinking into a nearby chair. In silence they dug in to the homemade confection.

  Wilcox worked his way around Kyle’s ankles with a soft purr, then placed his paws on Kyle’s legs and stared at him with bright green eyes.

  “Why me?” Kyle asked, faking a whimper.

  “You two are on a first-name basis. Buddies always share.”

  She peered at the cat. “Hungry, Wilcox?” Jane rose, and the cat wound around her feet as she coaxed him to the kitchen.

  When she returned, Kyle looked uneasy. She sensed he wanted to talk and wondered if the topic was what had preoccupied him, on and off, throughout the evening.

  Resting his elbows on his knees, Kyle leaned forward and stared across the room. “When I was filing the vandalism report down at the station, someone said your dad had been a police officer.” He lifted his eyes as if questioning her.

  A prickle of tension edged along her shoulders. She’d been right. Something had been on his mind. “Yes, he was.”

  His expression reflected disappointment, a response she didn’t understand.

  He glanced toward the family photographs displayed on a bookshelf, then rose and ambled across the room. He studied the pictures and picked up a photograph of Jane’s parents.

  When he returned it to the shelf, he lifted a picture of her father in uniform. “I’ve seen your dad’s picture at the station. The captain has a wall of photos in his office.” He replaced the frame and faced her. “Your father was killed in the line of duty.”

  Jane nodded and set down her plate. She clamped her teeth together, hoping he’d not dwell on the subject.

  “I was surprised this afternoon when it dawned on me he was your dad.” He stared at Jane, then turned again to the photograph. “Red Conroy. Red. That’s what they called him.”

  Jane smoothed her own red hair with trembling fingers. “Yep, red hair like mine.”

  “Conroy. I never connected the name. I’ve heard stories about Red Conroy.”

  Fearful, Jane cringed. Had Kyle heard the rumors that her father had been mixed up in something crooked? Shame washed over her. What would he think of her?

  “I’m surprised you never told me.” Kyle sent her a puzzled look and wandered back to his seat. “Quite a hero.”

  She shuddered. She didn’t want to hear the word hero. She wrestled her frustration. “You know the saying, ‘A prophet in his own country isn’t appreciated.’ He was just Dad to me.” She lied, and the anguish slithered down her back.

  “I’d liked to have known him.” His gaze traversed her face. “I’m sorry, Jane. I guess I’ve upset you.”

  She stared down at her clenched hands pressed into her lap. He’d upset her more than she could say. She’d lived in shame that someone would learn that her father had done something wrong. Shame that weighted on her conscience. And a sin for which she couldn’t atone. So often she dreamed of having the awful memories vanish, the fear and sorrow gone. Dreams didn’t work. She needed the Lord.

  “Jane?”

  Pulled from her reverie, she refocused.

  He stared at her with puzzled eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Kyle. No, it’s just me. I still have a hard time thinking about my dad. It’s my problem.”

  He shook his head. “I should have been more sensitive.”

  “My dad’s death was followed by a lot of unpleasant speculation. Nothing proven. No evidence. Just rumors, but the memories are painful.” Hearing the admission surprised her.

  “Do you want to talk?” His head tilted, his gentle gaze captured hers.

  She shook her head. But she wasn’t telling the truth. She did if talking would release her of the black memories.

  “Leave it to me to put my foot in my mouth.”

  She wanted to apologize or to explain, anything to rid the air of the discomfort. But before she decided what to say, he filled his fork with a hunk of pie.

  “Better this, than my foot.” He chuckled and shoveled the generous bite between his teeth, then licked his lips. “Now that’s better.”

  His gentle gaze was filled with understanding.

  “Let’s talk about you…and this pie. Then later we can talk about you…and the pie in the kitchen.”

  Celia caught up with Jane on the way into the building Monday morning. “Couldn’t wait to tell you about the great guy I met.”

  Her face glowed, and Jane couldn’t help but smile. “So where did you meet this great guy?”

  Celia reached across Jane and flung open the school door. “I went to this little restaurant near my house for dinner.” Following behind, Celia released the door and caught up to her. “So I sat alone, and this nice-looking guy—his name’s Leonard Hirsch—came in right after me and sat at a table next to mine. Well, you know how it goes—”

  “No, I don’t, but I’m sure you’ll tell me,” Jane said, fighting off a laugh at her friend’s exuberance.

  And Celia did, every detail.

  “And you have a date for…” Jane inserted the key and swung open her classroom door.

  “Tonight.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Miss Conroy.”

  A small voice caught Jane’s ear. She turned and looked into a young boy’s upturned face.

  “Yes?” she asked.

  The child raised a paper bag to her. “I’m s’pose to give you this.”

  Jane glanced at Celia, then back to the boy. “You are?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “From Mr. Skylar?” She arched a questioning eyebrow.

  “No, a man in the parkin
g lot.” The child shoved the bag toward her. “The man leaned out the car window and said, ‘Give this to Miss Conroy.”’

  With caution, she took the package. “Thanks.” Her hands trembled as she held the paper bag away from her body. Something wasn’t right.

  “Okay.” The boy gave her a final look and headed down the corridor.

  Celia gaped at her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know, Celia. I’m afraid to look in the bag.” Unbidden, her arm moved forward, distancing herself from the plain brown sack.

  Celia looked confused. “What’s in it? You’re as white as a ghost.”

  Students pushed past Jane into the classroom with noisy greetings, and she smiled down at them, but her mind was miles away. “Remember when I thought someone followed me the other night?”

  Celia’s eyes widened. “Yes, so what’s up?”

  “Nothing, I guess.” She nodded toward Celia’s room. “You have kids waiting.”

  “Great. Leave me hanging.” She glanced toward her room. “I suppose I’d better let them in.”

  She swung around to leave.

  An overwhelming fear clutched Jane as she peered at the sack. “Celia, wait.”

  Celia halted and turned back. “What?”

  “Could I ask a favor? Would you glance inside and make sure it’s nothing terrible. I don’t have the heart.” Her mind whirled with the possibility of something evil and foul clutched in her hand. But why?

  With a tolerant shrug, Celia took the bag, opened the top and glanced inside, but Skylar’s voice halted her comment.

  “Ladies, you have students waiting,” he snapped. “Celia, why are your students outside the room?”

  “I was checking something for Jane.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “And?”

  “And I’m going to class now.” She jammed the paper bag into Jane’s hands. “It’s okay, Jane.” She spun around and sped toward her classroom.

  Skylar stared at her, and she turned and entered the classroom.

  As the students pulled out their work, Jane set the package on her desk and stared at it. Foolish. What could be so dangerous in a small grocery bag? She took a deep breath, controlling her tremors, pulled open the top of the sack and looked inside.

  An old, dog-eared book lay in the bottom. Surprised, she shrugged and pulled out the volume.

  When she turned the book over, the title struck her between the eyes. Fun with Dick and Jane. A torn piece of paper stuck out from the pages, and she flipped it open.

  Circled in black marker, two sentences rose from the page. Her legs trembled as she peered at the words.

  See Jane. See Jane run.

  Chapter Four

  Disbelief knifed through Jane. She looked from the primer to her students, then instinctively to the hallway. Her heart gyrated as she focused on Charlie standing outside her doorway, leaning on a push broom. When she caught sight of him, he ducked his head and scooted out of sight, pushing the broom as he went.

  Her pulse was pounding so loudly in her ears she didn’t hear Sara speaking to her. When the child tapped her arm, Jane jumped.

  “Sorry, Sara, did you want something?”

  “Are you sick, Miss Conroy?” Her young face twisted with concern.

  “Oh, no, Sara, I’m fine.”

  “You look funny.”

  Jane forced a lighthearted laugh. “No, I was thinking about something. I’m just fine.” She drew in a wavering breath and sank into her desk chair. Her hands still clung to the book. She closed it and slid it into her center desk drawer.

  The students gaped at her with curiosity. Jane struggled to think of something she might tell them, maybe something funny, so they’d laugh and not sense her concern. Not only would a laugh help the students, she needed something to pull the shards of fear from her own mind. As soon as she could arrange a break, she’d call Kyle.

  At lunch break, Jane left Kyle a message that she needed to see him—or at least talk to him. He was on police business, the desk officer said, and she didn’t dare tell him it was an “emergency” although her racing pulse told her it was.

  During lunch, Celia hovered over her until she told her the story, but Jane waited until the end of the day to take the book and the rest of the information to Skylar. She didn’t know what she expected him to do, but maybe now he’d believe she wasn’t hallucinating.

  She waited outside his office while he spoke to another teacher, and when he finished, she leaned into his office. “Could I talk with you a minute?”

  “What is it?” he asked. “I have a meeting at the central office in fifteen minutes. Can you make it quick?”

  Jane wondered if she could convey her fear and frustration in a couple of minutes. She walked into his office with the primer clutched in her hand.

  “I know you think I’m deluded, Mr. Skylar, but I’d like to show you something.” She handed him the book, explaining how it came to her.

  “Do you remember last week when I ran to the parking lot? Well, look,” she said, pointing to words circled in the book. “Here it says, ‘See Jane run.”’

  He pursed his lips. “And? What am I supposed to get from this, Jane?”

  “Don’t you see the connection?” Her body tensed with frustration. “‘See Jane run.”’ She pointed to the words. “It’s right there. Someone sent me this book…on purpose…to scare me.”

  He shook his head as if he was speaking to a confused child. “Don’t you think you might be jumping to conclusions?”

  Her body tensed with irritation. “In what way am I jumping to conclusions?” She struggled to keep her voice calm. Why couldn’t he see a connection? She wanted to scream in his face, but she’d learned as far back as Sunday school a soft voice turns away anger.

  “Let’s try this out.” With a smug expression, he leaned back in his executive desk chair. “A parent is cleaning an attic and finds this old elementary school primer. ‘Now what can I do with this?’ asks the parent. ‘Ah, Johnny has Miss Conroy this year. Maybe she’d enjoy having this book.”’

  He peered at her, apparently expecting some conceding response. But instead she had questions of her own. “And if that’s the case, why didn’t ‘Johnny’ bring me the book instead of some man handing it to a fourth grade boy in the parking lot?”

  “Perhaps he forgot to give it to Johnny as he left for school, but he passes this way going to work, and instead of leaving his car and searching for you, he hands it to a student in the parking lot.” He glowered at her. “I don’t know, Miss Conroy, but I have a meeting to attend, and I have to leave.” He rose and pinned her with his look. “A third-grade teacher with some off-the-wall ideas resigned last year. I hope with my encouragement I don’t have another on my hands.”

  He tugged his briefcase from his desk and swished past her out the door. She sat in the chair for a moment staring at the empty space, wondering what had just happened.

  Later that evening, Jane sat alone, disappointed that Kyle hadn’t at least called and wondering if she might be as foolish as everyone seemed to think. In her mind, she retraced the strange occurrence. The vandalism wasn’t directed at her personally, and as far as she knew, the tires weren’t, either…though they may have been.

  The person who followed her? A fluke, maybe? An innocent man hurrying behind? Like Skylar said, the “Dick and Jane” book might have been a parent’s gift. A coincidence. But when the incidents were added together, they became more suspect. Why couldn’t Skylar see that?

  Wilcox jumped into Jane’s lap, and her heart beat double time. Her nerves were frayed, and she wondered if she’d ever feel relaxed again. Lately, the only time she felt safe was with Kyle.

  Pulling her hand over the cat’s fur and hearing his calming purr soothed her. She dropped her head against the sofa. When she was a child, she always talked to God when she was afraid or had troubles. But so much time had passed since she’d turned to the Lord that she felt ashamed asking for help now. Still, she
needed God’s help. Jane closed her eyes.

  Lord, I’ve drifted from You. Tell me how I can live within Your commandments. Protect me from the evil I’m sensing around me and the fear I’m feeling. Before an “Amen” left her lips, the cat’s body stiffened. He leaped to the floor, his back arching and ears flicking. Jane held her breath.

  Then came the knock on the front door. Stay calm. Ask who it is.

  She rose and eased her way to the door, standing as far back as she could and still be heard. “Who’s there?”

  “Take a guess.”

  Kyle’s cheerful voice sailed through the door, and Jane pulled the latch open, happy and relieved he had finally come.

  “Kyle.” She pushed the storm door aside. When he entered, she marveled at his good looks. Tonight he was out of uniform, dressed in casual slacks and a soft green pullover. “Am I glad you came! Did you get my message?”

  “Sure did. Sorry I took so long to get here. I was tied up in court and didn’t get your message until a while ago.” He paused, studying her. “I didn’t know it was an emergency.” He clutched her shoulders and faced her. “Something’s wrong, Jane. What happened?”

  His concern tumbled through her as warm and caring as a mother’s lullaby. “I got a little gift at school today.”

  He frowned. “What kind of gift?”

  “A book.” She motioned him into the living room.

  “A book? That sounds innocent enough.”

  She swung around to face him. “Fun with Dick and Jane. Makes you think, doesn’t it?”

  “You mean the old elementary school book?” His face twisted in confusion, and he slid into a chair. “I don’t get it. Well, I get the Jane part.”

  She sat in the love seat across from him. “Whoever sent it, put a marker in the book and circled the words, See Jane. See Jane run.”

  His eyebrows raised. Then he lowered his head and stared at his shoe. Finally, he looked up with understanding eyes. “I see it. The other night when you thought you were followed, you were running.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, pleased he understood, but hating to hear him make the connection. She bit the corner of her lip. “I went to Skylar today, but he pooh-poohed me. Said the book was probably a gift from a parent who found the primer in his attic and thought I’d enjoy it.” She studied his face, wondering if he agreed. “I don’t think so. Do you?”