Gnomeless

by Jennifer Zane

  This didn't sound good. “What happened?” I whispered.

  “The crappy mom got a ten million dollar settlement, put the kid in a boarding school in Switzerland, and pocketed thirty thousand a month in child support.”

  “Wow.” I couldn't fathom that kind of money, or that kind of selfishness.

  “The boy's seven.”

  “Holy shit.” I couldn't imagine a seven year old in a foreign country, all alone. Then I thought about Jack's childhood.

  “He reminded you of yourself, didn't he?”

  Jack turned his bleak eyes to me, nodded. “My parents never cared. It didn't matter because I had my uncle, but this kid has no one now. The court's made it so the dad can only see him once a month, supervised, and that's when he's in the country.”

  I felt a pang of sympathy for the little boy, but also for the little boy Jack had been. He said it didn't matter. I doubted that. What little kid could handle rejection from their parents at so young an age? Uncle or not, Jack's parents' actions affected his life. And not in a good way.

  “Why did you get fired? Sounds like you won the case.”

  Jack clicked off the TV with the remote, tossed it onto the coffee table with a loud thunk. “I did. The husband filed a claim with the Ethics Board about the tactics my company used. My company threw me under the bus, putting all the shady investigating, and the backhanded deals, on me. Said I was the one all these years that bent the ethics rules to meet my clients' needs.”

  I propped myself up on my elbows, stunned. “What? You?” I was so angry for him. “Did you?”

  Jack took a deep breath. “Yes.”

  “Did they?”

  His dark eyes blazed with anger, his hands squeezed my feet harshly. “Yes. It doesn't matter. They're now in the clear. I, on the other hand, may not be able to practice law again.”

  “And Uncle Owen? How did he know?”

  “It's all over the news in Miami. I think he heard about it and faked an illness to get me out of there.”

  I smiled, thinking about Uncle Owen and how kind he was. “He's really amazing. He cares about you enough to bring you back, and smart enough to leave his house renovation to you.” I looked around us. The living room looked normal, other than the fact that it was cold enough we wore winter-wear inside. The kitchen needed at least a week before it was usable again.

  Jack smiled. A thin, weak one, but still a smile.

  “When do you go back?” There was no question he would return to Florida.

  “You heard some of the phone calls with my lawyer. And yes, before you ask, a lawyer needs a lawyer sometimes. Especially in this shitty situation. I was going to leave in the morning, but with this crazy lady on the loose, I'm not leaving you alone until she's put away.”

  His words felt good. They softened a place in my heart I knew might never heal once he left. Jack was doing the right thing. Again.

  “What about the Ethics Board?”

  “I got it postponed.”

  ***

  I woke up once again in Jack's arms. It felt pretty darn good to have him hold me through the night, his heart beating beneath my ear. What didn't feel good was the crick in my neck, the pain in my hip from being wedged into the couch in an uncomfortable position. We were tangled together, arms and legs intertwined, buried beneath the thick down comforter. We fell asleep watching a bad movie on TV, deciding it was safer to stay away from the guest bedroom. Even if he wasn't leaving in the morning, he was still leaving. Jack admitted he had no willpower if there was a bed involved and my own willpower wasn't strong enough to fend him off.

  The more I learned about Jack, the more I was intrigued. He'd been through so much in life, abandonment, rejection and most recently, deceit. Deep down, I saw the goodness in him, his interest to stay in Bozeman and help me with the crazy lady in the pink jacket. He could head back to Miami right away, deal with the mess of his life, but he chose to stay here longer, help me—and his uncle—instead.

  We stopped by the drive-up Java Hut and picked up some extra tall, extra black coffees to go. The dark aroma filled the van. The sky was gunmetal gray, the clouds thick and low. Snow was coming. Jack opened the door to Violet's house, peeked in. “All clear,” he said to me as I stood back from him about five feet, ready to run if the snake decided to make a break for it.

  We went into the living room, my steps tentative. Jasper was coiled up inside his terrarium, looking full and content. No mouse in sight.

  “Wow, good job,” I said, impressed. Relieved. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

  Jack put the top back on the terrarium and we picked up, putting the room to rights. Not being particularly keen on Violet at the moment, I didn't put my heart into it. She could clean her own house when she got home.

  “First thing on the list today is to get rid of Jasper,” I told him, tossing a throw pillow back onto the couch.

  Jack eyed me funny. “Get rid of how?”

  “No matter how much I dislike snakes, I don't want to hurt one.” I pointed at Jasper. “He's going to a different teacher's house. You carry him out to the van, I'll drive.”

  I locked the door behind us, Jack holding the large glass terrarium in his arms. I cringed when I looked at Jasper, coiled up tightly on top of his hot rock. We headed down the shoveled walkway and saw Scary Lady get out of a car. It was an older model Oldsmobile, silver but rust eaten in many spots. There was a crack in the windshield and the antennae was bent. Both she and her car had seen better days.

  “Hurry up and open the back of the van. I can't do anything with this in my arms,” Jack said, his voice hard. His eyes were on the woman walking up to us.

  I dashed to swing the back doors open, helped Jack load Jasper in next to the plumbing tools, and closed the doors with a slam. Scary Lady approached.

  “You!” She pointed at me, her hand wrapped in loose gauze that dangled down around the wrist. She was blond, but had serious roots showing. It was pulled back in a ponytail, lank and in need of a wash. She wore the same pink puffy coat, but up close I could see small holes all over the left side, little fluffs of white down falling out.

  “Me?” I pointed at myself. “Do I know you?”

  The woman sputtered, surprised. “No. But you know my husband.”

  Jack looked at me, confused. I shrugged my shoulders.

  “Who's your husband?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Ronald.”

  I thought for a moment. “Nope, doesn't ring a bell. Are you all right? It looks like something's wrong with your coat. It looks like—”

  “You were shot,” Jack finished. He stood there, feet wide, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as if ready for a fight. It would be pretty uneven given Jack had seventy-five pounds on her, but it was never wise to underestimate the insane.

  “That crazy old man!” she pointed to Old Mr. Chalmer's house. I had no doubt he was watching.

  Crazy Lady turned to Jack. “Who the hell are you?” Before he could answer, she continued. “If you think this woman's going to stay with you, you've got another thing coming.” She hooked her thumb toward me. “Honey, she only goes after married men. Are you married?”

  Jack stood there, stone faced, but I saw the corner of his lip twitch and I knew he was trying not to laugh. “No,” he answered.

  “I'd find a new woman to fool around with. She's a home wrecker.”

  “Hey!” I said, insulted.

  “I'm keeping my eyes on you!” Again she pointed her injured hand at me. “I don't want you anywhere near Ronald. He's all mine.”

  “You can have him,” I grumbled. “Listen, we've got to go. Nice meeting you, um, what's your name?”

  “Lorraine.”

  “Lorraine, it's nice meeting you.” I turned and walked to the driver's side of the van. “I think,” I whispered to myself.

  Jack and I climbed in and peeled out of there as fast as the van and compacted snow would let me. George the Gnome tipped over
on the floor. I winced at the thunking sound of ceramic against floor mat. “Pick that up, will you? If it breaks I'm in big trouble with a seven-year-old.”

  Jack picked him up without questioning and put him in his lap.

  “Who the hell is that woman?” Jack asked after we'd gone two blocks. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw the Oldsmobile following at a distance.

  “I have no idea. But I guess I know her husband, Ronald.” I wracked my brain trying to think of a Ronald. No luck. The last guy I dated was a Chris and he definitely wouldn't have been married to Scary Lady Lorraine.

  Jack was quiet for a moment. “Maybe she's not interested in you.”

  I glanced quickly at Jack, my eyes on the road in front of us. It had started to snow, that light fluffy stuff that meant a good powder day at the ski resort. It also meant it had warmed up. When it was bitterly cold, the air was usually too dry to snow because of some high pressure meteorological thing. A front must have moved in, bringing wetter air and frozen precipitation.

  It also meant the streets were icy. In the moment my eyes were off the road, I hit a patch of slick stuff. I took my foot off the accelerator and steered the van into the turn. After years of driving in wintery conditions I knew not to slam my foot on the brake. We only slid about ten feet, but enough to have my tools and pipe clamor around in back. Since we were on the side of the road anyway, I put the van in park and turned to Jack. It seemed I did this a lot with him, these side of the road chit chats.

  “Not interested in me?” I stared at him, trying to figure out what he was talking about, when it hit me, like a two by four between the eyes. “You mean...” I sputtered, and then slammed my palms down onto the steering wheel. “You mean she might be thinking I'm Violet,” I said angrily.

  “Do you know a Ronald?”

  I crinkled my forehead. “No.” I pulled my cell from my coat pocket, dialed Violet, groaned. “Voicemail.” I listened to her message then answered, “Violet. Any chance you know a guy named Roland?”

  “Ronald,” Jack said, looking over his shoulder into the back of the van.

  “Ronald,” I repeated into the phone. “A guy named Ronald? Because his wife thinks so. Call me.” I pressed End. “She is such an annoying, meddling sister! I know, Reid, you can't appreciate the fact that I love her and want to kill her at the same time.”

  I looked into the side view mirror, eased back onto the road, kept my pace Montana slow.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jack glance at me.

  “No. My parents bailed. My uncle's all I've got,” he replied.

  “You left him after graduation and haven't been back,” I countered.

  Jack's face got hard. “I brought him to Florida, and other places, to visit. We see each other a couple times a year. But coming back here? Bozeman holds too many bad memories for me.”

  “Including me.” Looking back, the high school dating fiasco held bad memories for me, too. But I had loving, kind parents and a sister, who I supposedly still loved. They'd all been there to help me through the heartache of Jack's supposed rejection. Jack hadn't.

  Sighing, Jack added, his voice low, “Yes, you were part of the bad memories.”

  I felt tears well up in my eyes, the road getting a little blurry. A lump formed in my throat and I worked to clear it before I could talk. “Oh, God. I feel so terrible about being one of the reasons you stayed away.”

  Jack shook his head, raised a hand to my cheek as I kept driving. His touch was light, soft, gentle. “Not anymore.”

  I smiled wanly. “Maybe I can be one of the reasons you stay.”

  There was a whole lot of hope in that statement. I focused on the road, imagining him back in town on a permanent basis. I felt Jack's hand brush the edge of my jacket, his fingers tickling against my bare skin beneath the loose edge of my sweater.

  The sensation was somehow erotic, having him find a small patch of skin beneath the layers and layers of clothes. His fingers were cool against my warm—and getting warmer by the moment—skin. “Jack, I'm trying to drive,” I said, smiling. I liked his teasing fingers.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I can't concentrate on driving when you...touch me that way,” I replied back, a little breathless by how just the tips of his fingers could turn me on.

  I darted a glance to Jack. He looked at me as if I were crazy, his hands up in front of him like a doctor before surgery. “I'm not touching you,” he replied, his voice calm, serious.

  “Then what...?”

  I looked down, screamed bloody murder and slammed my foot on the brake. Jack whiplashed in his seat belt, pipes went flying.

  He hadn't been fondling my side. Jasper the snake had. With his beady eyes and little forked tongue tickling my hip.

  I screeched like a banshee and wanted to get out of the van more than a house on fire, but the snake was thickly coiled around the seat belt buckle and I wasn't touching it. “Get it off! Get it off! Holy shit, get the fucking seat belt off!”

  I was in full fight or flight mode, but I wasn't going to fight a snake so I was trying for flight. It wasn't working. I flapped my arms in the air, screaming as Jack attempted to uncoil Jasper and undo my buckle.

  “Jesus, Miller, I'm going deaf over here,” Jack said, struggling to separate Jasper from me and my seat belt. “Hang on, he's moving up.”

  If I hadn't had a snake up my shirt I might have enjoyed the moment as Jack reached with one arm down into the wide neck of my sweater. Now, he definitely was fondling me, his palm warm against my breast, struggling to grab the wriggling snake.

  “Reid!”

  “Sorry, but he's all over the place!” Jack was breathing hard, wrestling inside my clothes for Jasper.

  His lower hand tugged down, Jasper pulled free, and after a few more seconds that felt like hours, I heard the click, felt the release of pressure on the seat belt. Jack's hands slipped out of my sweater and I practically ripped the door handle off getting out of the van.

  I didn't care if a car was coming or not. I had snake spit and cooties on me and being run over wouldn't be as bad as that. I paced in front of the van, wiggling my arms, shrugging my shoulders and shivering—not from cold—from my near death reptile experience. Sure, I wasn't going to be bitten and die a slow venom-induced death, but with the way my heart was beating practically out of my chest, a heart attack would not be a surprise.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Jack joined me by the hood. “Are you all right?” he asked as he placed his hands on my upper arms.

  I wasn't finished having my little panic attack.

  “Miller, snap out of it.” He gave me a little shake. “It was just a snake.”

  I looked at him, “Just a snake? Just a snake?” My voice went up a whole octave. “You didn't have a a reptile start to make out with you!” I shouted with all the venom I had.

  He yanked me into his arms, pressed me against his hard length, my cheek chilled by the nylon of his coat. “Shh,” he whispered in my ear, calmly stroking my back. “It's okay now. Shh.”

  As the adrenaline started to dissipate, I noticed how comforting it was to be wrapped in Jack's arms. How good it felt to have him make it all better.

  “I have to say, Miller, next time you want me to cop a feel, let's keep the snake out of it.”

  I pulled back and swatted him on the arm, chuckling. His attempt at lightening the mood worked.

  As we stood there in the freezing cold, Jack making good work of soothing my frazzled nerves, the Oldsmobile drove by. We saw the brake lights, and then watched as the car fishtailed on the packed snow and slid into a ditch. Clearly she wasn't familiar with driving in wintery conditions. The car was well off the road, but not far enough for me to panic for Lorraine's safety, but the car would be stuck without some people to help push it out. Knowing it was most likely rear-wheel drive, a tow truck would be required.

  Loosening his hold, Jack pointed at the car, exhaust coming out in a white cloud. “She knows
you.” He stuffed his hands in his coat pocket. Snowflakes stuck to his dark cap. “She's sure of it. She's been following you around for how long?”

  I thought for a moment, quirked my mouth. “Um...three days maybe?”

  “She's persistent, I'll give her that,” he replied, dryly.

  We watched through the falling snow as Lorraine pushed open the driver door, stuck a leg out to stand up. Since the car was angled toward the passenger side into the drainage ditch, the door swung shut, right on her leg. Jack and I both winced.

  It was like watching a slapstick comedy routine. After several attempts in her non-winter boots, she got the door to stay open by kicking at it, was ultimately able to climb out and carefully limped over to us. I tucked my scarf around my neck better, keeping the snowflakes out, trying not to imagine what I looked like to Jack freaking out over a loose snake. Thankfully, there wasn't any video footage.

  “Are you all right?” I asked, looking at her leg. No blood showed, but it must hurt terribly.

  “If you hadn't slept with my husband I wouldn't be here right now, freezing my ass off.”

  Violet. Had to have been Violet.

  “I think you're looking for her sister,” Jack said, pointing to me. He lifted his shoulders against the snow.

  Lorraine shook her head vehemently, thick flakes getting lost in her bleach blond hair. “Nope. I'm looking for you. I saw you driving together. I recognize you.”

  “I'm an identical twin.”

  Lorraine snorted. “Yeah, right. And I'm Cindy Crawford. I've heard that before. Good one.” She looked to Jack. “So Romeo, is what she says true?”

  Jack shrugged his already raised shoulders. “Trust me, she's a twin. I couldn't keep them straight either.” He turned to me, gave me the eye. “See, I'm not the only one who can't tell you apart.”

  I gave him a withering look, although it had no effect on him.

  “Let's go get this twin of yours and I'll be on my way,” Lorraine said, rubbing her hands together.

  Crap. “She's at a teacher's conference in Salt Lake.”