by Jodi Thomas
This was their first meet, and her first time as sponsor. Jamie felt like she’d run a marathon in heels between all the events that went on at once. Add fights, constant noise, unauthorized room changes, underage drinking and the worse plague—sophomore lovers. To make it more difficult, the male sponsor, an English teacher named Mr. Thames, kept flirting with her while he ignored the students. He was more than ten years older than her and considered himself an expert on pretty much everything.
Finally, she made it back to Crossroads with all thirty-seven students and one pouting male sponsor. When she’d used her cover, I’m married, he’d simply said, “So am I.” The next shield she used was, I’m not attracted to you, sorry. That made him mad. After all, he’d read the classics, so what woman wouldn’t be attracted to him?
Just before the sun disappeared, Jamie pulled up to her little place on the lake. “Peace,” she said with a smile. The cabin had been over her budget, but the moment she saw it, Jamie knew this would be her home. She’d drifted through three different school districts in the eight years since college, but this place, this school, this town was the first time she felt like she could finally settle down and unpack. No apartment this time. She’d saved enough for a down payment and she wanted her own house.
A dozen wind chimes scattered along the front porch clanked a welcome in the chilly breeze, almost making her forget her problems from the weekend.
She unloaded her suitcase from the van and bumped it up the back steps while mumbling what she wished she’d said to that jerk of an English teacher. Something told her his behavior would hang around like food poisoning brought home from vacation.
There seemed to be a kind of man who thought he could push his advances on women who weren’t too pretty or too slim. He thought they should be grateful. He’d flirt with the shy girl, the homely girl, the alone girl, probably because he thought she’d be desperate and accept sex without the wrappings. No promises. No future. He even walked in with the attitude that she should feel lucky to get his attention.
Jamie had never played that game, and she wouldn’t do it now. She might not be slim and beautiful, but she had her pride. Only all weekend, Mr. Thames continued to advance as if he thought he might wear her down.
There was nothing she could do about Mr. Cheater’s behavior. He hadn’t touched her, except on the arm once and a dozen more times by accident, he’d claimed. He’d stood in the bus aisle twice when she was moving back to her seat. Both times, he’d made sure their bodies bumped.
He’d hinted at things they might do, but she’d look like a fool turning him in for sexual harassment. She’d watched her roommate in college try to file a complaint once. They’d done the paperwork, but nothing ever happened.
Jamie thought she’d solved the problem of unwanted advances this time. When she applied for the job at Ransom Canyon High, she’d said she was married. She’d seen what happened after she turned down a few advances at a new school. Once, a pushy vice principal turned the tables and told everyone she’d hit on him. Half the faculty avoided her after that. Another man, husband to the parents’ booster club president, tried to get her fired because she wouldn’t play along with his harmless flirting.
But this time, she’d been sure the I’m married lie would work. She’d even bought a ring and put Mr. and Mrs. Johnson on the mailbox.
As she pulled her bag across the tiny kitchen of her new home, she noticed three cereal bowls stacked by the sink.
Strange. She never left dirty dishes out. Maybe Goldilocks had visited three times while she was gone. If a robber broke in, he’d be hard-pressed to find anything worth carrying off. Books? A hundred old VHS movie classics? A mice teacup collection? A burglar would have trouble making a fast turnaround for cash with any of her stuff.
One glance at the dozen Precious Moments statues running along the top of her three feet of kitchen cabinets eased her mind. She’d bought one tiny figurine every year as her Christmas gift to herself since she’d left home. One box to open under her tree made the holiday.
She moved through the living room. The TV was turned to face the couch. Odd. The afghan she always curled up in was on the floor. An almost empty bag of donut holes sat between two paper cups.
Her tired mind began to put the obvious together. Someone had been in her place. They’d eaten her cereal, brought donuts to the break-in and watched TV.
Slowly, she lifted the umbrella she kept by the front door and moved toward her bedroom. A runaway kid maybe? A drunk fisherman who got the wrong house? Mr. Thames making one more try?
She crossed the darkened hallway and slipped into the only bedroom. Watery moonlight shone through thin cotton curtains, giving the shadows a blue glow. As always, the house was as quiet as a crypt, except for the lake gently lapping against her tiny slice of shoreline twenty feet from her back door.
Jamie lifted her weapon, planning to strike if anything moved.
Clothes were scattered on the floor like it had rained khaki. A dirty pair of boots rested on one side of the bed. A white towel was looped over the corner of the headboard as though the entire room was surrendering.
Ignoring the clutter, the dripping shower drew all her attention. Not only had someone broken into her house and made a mess, he’d obviously just taken a shower in her bathroom.
Jamie’s grip tightened on the umbrella as she moved toward the bathroom. The door wasn’t completely closed. She pushed it slowly open as if she might be compromising a crime scene.
The shower door slid open, releasing a cloud of steam that fogged Jamie’s glasses for a moment. She wiped them off in time to see one muscular arm reach out for a towel that no longer hung on the hook.
A male voice swore as he moved halfway out and grabbed one of her fancy towels only used as decoration.
Jamie froze, trying to decide whether to scream or attack. She’d had no training in using an umbrella as a weapon, and no one lived near enough to hear her yelling.
A moment later, a man stepped from the fog as he tied the towel to his waist.
He was tall, well built and scarred.
Jamie drew in a breath to try screaming as she looked up into his face. Rainy-day gray eyes met her stare as water dripped from his short dark hair. He showed no surprise, only awareness as he looked down at the point of her umbrella an inch from his middle. He raised one dark eyebrow, and she stepped back a few inches without lowering her weapon.
The intruder slowly smiled and said as calmly as if they were just passing one another on the street, “Evening, Mrs. Johnson. I was wondering when you’d be home.”
The stranger knew her name! He must have been stalking her. That’s what killers did, right? Find single women. Learn their routine. Break into their house. Murder them.
Do something! After all, she had the weapon. He obviously had none. That should give her the advantage.
Of course he knew her name. It was on the mailbox. Stop thinking. Act.
Pointing the umbrella directly at his chest, she decided to at least act brave. If he was going to kill her, she wouldn’t go down without a fight.
“Who are you?” She paused to scream, but it sounded more like a hiccup. “And what are you doing in my house?”
He stood his ground, still smiling, still almost nude, still calm. “I’m Captain Wyatt Johnson with the United States Army. I’m not sure what I’m doing in your house or even how I got here. Best scenario I can figure out is the sheriff of whatever town this is found me exhausted and assumed I was your husband. He thought he was bringing me home, and I was so tired I must have seen the bed and crashed. When I woke up, my car wasn’t here so I stayed.”
She poked him about heart level with the metal tip. “You are not my husband.”
“No, but neither is anyone else. After I ate the donuts left on the porch, I looked around. Not one picture, no clothes, no birth control or sec
ond toothbrush. Lady, near as I can tell, you’re living a lie. Somehow, you managed to convince even the sheriff that you were married, but unless I’ve lost all sense of observation, you are not.”
When she just stared, he added, “I don’t mean you any harm, Mrs. Johnson. I’ll keep your secret and be out of your house as quickly as possible. I won’t tell a soul. I would have left yesterday, but no one was here and I just needed to rest awhile and get my head straight. I figured, since they’d already dumped me here and you weren’t home, I’d—” he hesitated “—I’d house-sit till you got back.”
She finally lowered the umbrella. “Would you mind putting some clothes on while I call the sheriff?”
“Of course. Sorry, ma’am.” He slipped past her. “I’ll need him to take me to my car. I think I ran it off the road a few miles back. It was dark and raining. I must have been sleep-driving because I have no idea where I was.”
She didn’t turn around, but she could hear him rummaging for clothes.
“I don’t want to be any trouble, but I probably should mention that if you tell the sheriff I’m not your husband, he’s going to start asking questions. Like, where is the real Mr. Johnson and why did I stay two nights waiting for you? I could plead exhaustion, but you might want to start thinking about what you’re going to say. I’ve been thinking that once he knows I’m not your Captain Johnson, he’ll spot the lie you seem to be living here.”
She slowly turned to face the stranger. “You’d blow my cover?”
She glanced at him. The man was listening, but he had that not my problem, lady look in those gray eyes.
Jamie sat down on her bed. “I just want to be a teacher. I thought if I invented a husband, everyone would leave me alone. But no such luck. Two months into the school year, you show up and rat me out. Now everyone will know I lied about being married. That’s not going to look good on my résumé when I have to leave and look for another job.”
“I didn’t think employers could ask that kind of questions,” he added, more as a correction than interest.
“Maybe they can’t directly, but it’s there, hidden somewhere in the interview.”
“Maybe so. I haven’t applied for a job in years. I found the army and stayed.”
“You have no idea what it is like to be a single teacher of a certain age. Most men are nice, but a few think it’s open season to flirt, to try to hook up on the weekend while we’re both chaperones on a school trip. After all, I’m over thirty and alone. I must have played that game before.” Jamie knew she was rambling but she was too tired to care. Talking to this total stranger made more sense than rambling on to herself, which she usually did.
Some of the fear melted away since he was dressing. Rapists don’t dress. Also, she’d seen no weapons, so that seemed to lean to the bright side. If the home invader stayed much longer, he’d be on his way to becoming a friend.
As he packed, she kept talking. “At every school there’s always one teacher who tries to match me up with her unmarriageable brother or son. Or another who thinks something must be wrong with me and wants to help make me over or save me from the sin of being single.”
He pulled on an army sweatshirt, then jeans and sat down beside her. “Man, I thought I had it bad in the war zone.”
“It wasn’t easy being the girl who never gets asked out in college.” When he didn’t comment, she continued, “Oh, I had lots of boy friends. Mostly study partners. I thought sparks might fly between one of them and me. Like one of those Hallmark movies where best friends look across the table and suddenly discover their one true love has been beside them all along.
“But that part of my life story seemed to be left on the cutting room floor. When I started teaching, I was too busy for a while to worry about dating, and then there just wasn’t anyone around. The high school teachers lounge isn’t exactly a singles bar. I wouldn’t know how to get picked up anyway. I’m a total loser at dating skills. I either push people away or hang on too tight.”
She paused to study the guy beside her. If Naked Man was going to kill her, she might as well tell him her problems first. What difference did it make? Maybe he’d figure loneliness was contagious and just leave.
Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’ve had a terrible weekend fighting off a jerk who tried everything from telling me I should be glad he’s even considering sleeping with me while we’re both chaperones to threatening to cause trouble if I didn’t relax and take advantage of the opportunity. All the time the skinny creep kept accidentally touching me and whispering dirty things while I was trying to keep up with thirty-seven kids. Then, I come home to a messed-up house and a naked man in my shower. This is my worst weekend ever, and believe me, I’ve had some bad ones.” She looked up at him, hoping he had some answer.
He stared at her for a full minute. “You always talk so much, lady?”
“Yes. Occupational hazard. I sometimes lecture myself when I can’t sleep.”
He slowly stood and offered his hand. “How about you go take a shower, and I’ll clean up my mess around the place. Then, if you still want to call the sheriff, it’s fine with me. Since he brought me here in the rain, maybe he’ll remember where I left my rental car and take me back. No harm done. I swear, I didn’t break anything. I’ll reimburse you for what I ate.”
Jamie tilted her head and stared. He didn’t look crazy, and he wasn’t in any hurry to kill her. She might as well take a shower. His suggestion made about as much sense as anything else in her life right now.
She gathered her jogging clothes, which were good as new since she never jogged, and locked herself in the bathroom. Maybe, if she took her time, he’d be gone by the time she came out.
She stood under the water until it turned cold, then dried off with the other decorative towel and tiptoed to the bedroom. The bed was made. His clothes were gone. It occurred to her that maybe she’d just imagined the handsome man who’d been sleeping in her bed.
People who live alone might invent an imaginary friend. Someone to talk to. It made sense in a crazy kind of way. Why fight it? No one would know but her. Maybe she’d simply invented an intruder?
No, he’d been real. Her imagination wasn’t that good. Gray eyes. A muscular body bruised and scarred.
She walked out of the bedroom, feeling almost normal. The donut bag and cups were gone. The cereal bowls must have been washed and put away. Her afghan lay over the arm of her grandmother’s rocker, almost in the spot where she always left it.
The man was still there. Dressed in jeans and a cream-colored sweatshirt. Still staring at her with those intelligent gray eyes.
Without a word, he handed her a cup of tea and followed her to the couch. He took one end; she took the other. For a few minutes, she just drank her very bad tea.
“I’m sorry I invaded your house. It wasn’t planned. I’d just made it stateside without sleeping for three days, then my car ran off the road, and I must have walked ten miles in the rain before I collapsed. I was asleep when they carried me in here. I stayed because, for a moment, I wanted to be home, or at least feel like I was. I’ve been deployed for months, and your place just seemed like a tiny piece of normal.”
“You can’t stay here.”
“I know. I’ll call a cab to take me to another rental car place instead. That way we won’t have to involve the sheriff, after all. Maybe they’ll rent me another car, so I can drive around and find the first one.”
She shook her head, and her long damp hair brushed against her cheeks. “Crossroads doesn’t have a cab company. There is nowhere to rent a car for fifty miles. There is an old hotel down the road, but it’s one step below the Bates Motel. But you’re right about one thing. If you call the sheriff, he’ll just ask questions, and within minutes, he’ll know I lied. How are you going to fix that, Captain Johnson?”
He didn’t say a word. If anything, he looked more
bothered than guilty of blowing her cover.
“Is your name really Johnson?” she asked.
“Yep. Yours?”
“Yes. It’s a very common name. I guess I can see how the sheriff would think you lived here. You must have family waiting for you. A real wife wondering where you are.”
“No family looking for me. No real place to call home. When I left the States six months ago, I did have a girlfriend up near DC, but when I called to tell her I was coming in, she told me she was engaged.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “It’s happened before.”
She looked up and caught his smile. They both laughed as if what he’d said was somehow funny.
“I’ll be glad to pay you for the two nights I stayed here. This place was far better than a hotel. I loved just sitting out on the back porch and watching the sun sparkle off the water. Peaceful isn’t something you find often. I kind of spent the day drunk on it yesterday.”
Jamie leaned back, sipping her tea. “I like that, too. I bought a hammock, but I don’t know how to put it up. I was thinking that next spring I’d fix it so I could sleep in it. Then I could listen to the sound of the water all night long. Once in a while, I can hear a fish jump and splash back into the lake.”
She wondered if he was thinking what she was thinking. What if he stayed? It was a wild idea. The wildest thing she’d ever done, but it might work. He seemed to love it here. They could coexist for a few days. He probably needed some peace, and she spent almost every waking hour at the school.
No, it wouldn’t work. She couldn’t let a stranger live with her for a few days, even if she had figured out he probably wasn’t going to kill her or rob her.
Neither said a word. Silence. She closed her eyes, trying to think of some way that this would work out. He needed rest. She needed to hold on to her lie.
