JUSTIFIED

by Danielle James

  Jon had offered to work on her book while she was out. Sarah couldn’t wait to type on the keypad. She had been scribing her book by hand, and she sorely missed the pecking of the keyboard. She missed having the thought written as soon as she thought it. She wanted to write without cramping her hand.

  By the time Jon parked the car, the sun was setting and the parking lot would have been dark if not for the street lamps. Sarah looked at the sky through the windshield for a moment, admiring the stars that were already visible. She hadn’t noticed that Jon had walked around to her door until he opened it for her. He held out his hand to assist her, and Sarah took it. And she had thought chivalry was dead! No one had ever helped her out of the car before.

  Sarah noticed that Jon did a lot of things that used to be considered common courtesies. He held the door open for her at his apartment, allowing her to enter first. He offered her a seat and a drink, but Sarah shook her head.

  “I just want a shower,” she told him.

  “Through there,” he said, pointing her in the right direction. “You have clothes in my room, your room for the next two days.”

  “In your room?” she gasped. Had he meant to share a room? Sarah’s stomach suddenly twisted up in knots. Is that why he was so stubborn about this weekend? Was it his plan to seduce her? Sarah was uncomfortable with the whole idea.

  “Yes, I’m giving it to you for your stay,” he explained. “I will sleep on the couch.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t possibly!” she argued, relieved that she was wrong, but also strangely disappointed. “I won’t be more of a bother than I already am. You take your room, and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  “Sarah, we will not argue about this,” Jon said. “I’ve already put your things in there, and I won’t budge on this.”

  “How did you get my things?” Sarah asked, finally realizing that Jon had gone to great lengths to make her comfortable.

  “Mary gave some things she thought you might need.”

  “So they know I’m out for now?” she gasped. “Jon, I really don’t want to visit with anyone.”

  “I know that, and so do they. But your sister would like at least a phone call,” he said calmly. Sarah noticed that the blue of his eyes grew darker as he spoke. “I won’t force you to call, but it’s something to think about.”

  Sarah nodded. She could agree to think about it. It didn’t mean she would do it. For the life of her, Sarah couldn’t figure out why her sister would want to talk to her anyway. Sarah was a cruel, mean, cold blooded killer. Why anyone would want to talk to her was beyond Sarah’s comprehension. She had received a letter from time to time from one or another of her family, and Sarah read them. Mostly they were about things going on in the family, birthdays, and who was dating who. But in every letter, her sisters swore to Sarah that they loved her and didn’t have any ill will toward her. But Sarah knew it was a lie. They had to hate her as much as she hated herself. How could they not?

  “I think I’ll take that shower now,” Sarah said, turning to leave the room. Jon nodded and watched her go.

  As soon as he heard the water running, Jon took out his cell phone and called Mary. He explained that Sarah was with him and seemed to be doing ok. He told her about the suggestion for a phone call, and told Mary not to hold her breath. He signed off quickly and headed for the kitchen. The first thing he had to take care of was dinner.

  Sarah stayed in the shower until the water began to run cold. The hot water and steam washed away all remnants of stress from her body, leaving her skin clean and wrinkled like a prune. She shut off the spray and stepped out. There was a shelf over the toilet covered in assorted lotions and feminine products. Sarah selected one of the lotions and began to apply it liberally to her wrinkled skin. She hadn’t used lotion in forever! The scent was light and feminine, as the body wash she found in the shower had been. It was a nice change from the plain soap used at the prison that dried her skin out.

  Sarah pulled on a t-shirt and her jeans, only to realize that the jeans were too big. She stepped carefully from the bathroom and walked to Jon’s room. Maybe she could borrow a belt or something to hold her pants on. She riffled through the drawers, but she didn’t find a belt. But she did find a pair of cotton boxers. They were the kind meant for sleeping in and very comfortable. Sarah shucked her oversized jeans and pulled on the borrowed boxers. She hoped that Jon wouldn’t mind. After rolling the waist band down several times, Sarah was satisfied with the fit. They were a little too big, but with her adjustments, they would do far better than her own jeans. Besides, as far as she knew, they weren’t going anywhere.

  When Sarah stepped out of the bedroom, her nose was assaulted with the most delicious smell. She followed her nose to the kitchen and breathed deep. Jon was standing in front of the stove, still wearing his dress slacks, but his jacket was carelessly thrown over the back of a chair and his shirt tail was untucked. Sarah couldn’t help but notice the strong lines of his back and shoulders through the thin white shirt. His hair just brushed the collar of the shirt. He was stirring something that smelled wonderful.

  “I didn’t know you could cook,” Sarah said, announcing her presence. Jon spun around with the spoon still in his hand. Not only had he untucked the shirt, but the collar was open and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing a vee of male chest and strong forearms. When his eyes met Sarah, he dropped the spoon, making a terrible clatter and showering the floor and cabinets with red sauce. He stood there for a moment, mouth open, before gathering his senses.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you,” Sarah said apologetically. She walked over to help clean up the mess she had inadvertently helped make.

  “Uh, no, you didn’t,” Jon stammered, kneeling down to clean up. What the hell was wrong with him? He had known Sarah was out of the shower when he heard the water finally stop. He was wondering if there would be any hot water left for him. Judging by the amount of time she was in there, he thought probably not.

  But when he turned and saw her, he was shocked. Her dark hair was wet and hung over her shoulders, her grey eyes were finally bright and free of her earlier distress. She was wearing a t-shirt, without a bra, he noticed. And covering her bottom half was his favorite pair of cotton boxers. She had rolled the top down to make it fit, and she looked fantastic. An attraction to Sarah that Jon hadn’t ever felt before slammed into him as hard as a punch in the gut.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Sarah said, noticing that Jon was staring at the shorts. “I borrowed a pair of boxers. My jeans don’t fit and these seemed more comfortable.

  Jon just stared at her. He decided he liked her in his clothes. “It’s no problem,” he finally said.

  “What’s cooking?” she asked.

  “Spaghetti,” Jon answered, thankful for the change of subject. “With real sauce. I hope you like it.”

  “I love it.” Sarah hoped he knew what he was doing. However, she thought, anything was better than the slop at the prison. “I hope you aren’t trying to spoil me,” she continued. “I do have to go back on Sunday.”

  “Maybe,” Jon said. That was the whole point. He wanted her to hate prison. And real Italian spaghetti was just the beginning.

  They ate their dinner together at the small table in Jon’s kitchen. He had managed to find a tablecloth to cover the scratched and worn wood. He was really quite proud of himself. Dinner was delicious, even by his standard. Sarah wasted no time in cleaning her plate. She even went back for seconds. By the time dinner was finished, Sarah was so full that her belly even pooched out a little.

  After dinner, they discussed Sarah’s book. He told her all about Jenny and his relationship with her. He told her about how the Agent thing would work, and offered to send some of the manuscript on Sarah’s behalf. Sarah told him that she would sleep on it.

  NINE

  It had taken Sarah more than just a few minutes to stop crying. In fact, it had taken days. After receiving the news about Jamie, everything in Sarah’
s mind became a blur. People talked to her, but she couldn’t repeat anything they had said. People comforted her, although their efforts were lost on Sarah. Nothing could make her better. Nothing could dull the pain she felt in her very soul. Nothing could bring her son back.

  When she finally had regained a shadow of composure, Sarah was led to her husband’s bed. He was awake, staring up at the ceiling. Sarah wrestled with her emotions upon sight of him. One part of her wanted to tear him apart; to scream and yell and pommel him with her fists. Another wanted to rush into his arms and cry. Although Sarah had her suspicions about William and Jamie’s ‘accident,’ Sarah could not believe at that moment that the man she married would cause harm to her son. She could not be that bad of a judge of character.

  In the end, the part of Sarah that was hurting won over and she dropped to a chair beside his bed. She didn’t say anything at first, only rested her head on his shoulder. He raised his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders while she cried.

  “Shh,” he whispered. “It’s ok, I’m ok.”

  Sarah raised her head. “Jamie’s not,” she said. “He’s, he’s gone.”

  “What do you mean, Sarah?” William asked.

  “He died, William. My baby’s dead.” And the tears ran fresh down her cheeks. William did not respond. He just continued to stroke her hair and hold her.

  “What happened?” Sarah finally asked. “The police couldn’t tell me.”

  William let out a long sigh. Was he hesitating? No, surely not. He must have just been trying to find the right words. Finally, he said, “I can’t be too sure. Someone attacked us, but I didn’t see who it was.”

  Sarah accepted his short explanation. She was tired and dirty and mentally wrung out. It was all she could do to take herself home to her empty house and sleep.

  Two days later, Sarah buried her only son.

  Jon had been awakened to the clickety clackety sound of fingers on a keyboard. He rolled out off the couch wearing nothing but his boxers. Not bothering to put on his clothes, he walked on silent feet to his office. He found Sarah there, typing away on his computer. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail at the base of her neck and she was still wearing her sleeping clothes. A cup of coffee steamed on the coaster beside the keypad.

  He stood behind her, reading as she typed. She was so engulfed in her task that she did not notice him there. When her fingers finally stilled, Jon put his hands on her shoulders. She was not startled by the sudden touch of his hands, but she acknowledged his presence by placing one of her hands over his. It was a very familiar, very comfortable thing to do, Jon noticed.

  But why wouldn’t she be comfortable with Jon? For the previous two years, he had been her sole connection with the world outside of prison. Jon had visited her regularly the whole time. He figured he knew her as well as she would allow, and was as close to her as anyone could get lately. And she was making progress. The prison medical staff had insisted on psychiatric evaluations for her, which Sarah refused to comply with. The few sessions she actually sat in on were futilely pointless, as Sarah refused to talk about the whole situation that landed her in prison. Sarah had managed to shut out the entire world, leaving her alone with her grief and her guilt. Guilt that nobody but Sarah thought she deserved.

  Just getting Sarah to agree to the weekend pass was a huge step in the right direction. The plan was to get Sarah talking. To get Sarah to start to heal. The first step was getting her to write about her experience, suggested by Jon to the prison therapist. That was going well. The second step was to get her to share her thoughts and feelings about it. She was slowly accomplishing that by allowing Jon to type her journals for her. The third step was to get her back out into the world, hence, the weekend pass. This whole plan was devised by the prison shrink, Jon, and Mary.

  “I really started to think I was going crazy,” Sarah said. Jon immediately snapped back to the present situation.

  “Why is that?” He asked, still standing behind her.

  “William acted like any grieving father should. He did everything right. He was supportive and kind, he cried right along with me. The police couldn’t find any evidence to suggest any other than an intruder wearing gloves. The knife was one from my kitchen, so of course it had both mine and William’s fingerprints on it. The odds of William using that particular knife for anything were slim, but neither the police nor I could prove anything by it. I began to think I had been really wrong about my suspicions.”

  Jon wanted her to say more. He wanted to finally hear it from her mouth. He knew she needed to talk about it. But he had to be very careful, or else she would slam all her walls that she had so carefully built back up. Jon thought carefully about what to say next. “When did you change your mind?” he asked, hoping it wasn’t too forward.

  Sarah sat in silence for a long minute. With a sigh, she finally answered. “A few months later when he was talking to one of his friends. He told him a completely different story than he had told me and the cops. And, he spoke with such hatred in his voice, it gave me the chills.”

  “What did he say, Sarah?”

  “It was little things, really. Things like ‘I know he wasn’t really my kid, but Sarah’s upset’ or the ‘little brat died in surgery.’ It was nothing that would hold up in court, but it stung me.”

  Jon listened intently to all Sarah had to say. Of course the man was the model parent in front of Sarah. But his comments to his friends bothered Jon as much as they had Sarah. Jon never could tolerate people who would harm a child, whether it was physically or mentally. He made it a point to never accept a case involving anyone who was accused of child abuse in any form. He just couldn’t fathom the idea of being wrong and helping a monster get away with hurting a child.

  “I’m getting hungry,” Sarah said, changing the subject. It was obvious she had said all she was going to say for time being. “I’ll make breakfast, if you like.” She twisted in the chair so that she could look up at Jon. He smiled down at her and nodded.

  “I would like that. I need a shower, anyway. Someone used all the hot water last night,” he teased.

  Sarah blushed slightly, and damn if it wasn’t adorable on her. “I might have gotten a little carried away,” she admitted.

  Jon told Sarah where to find everything in the kitchen before heading for the shower. He washed himself quickly and dressed just as fast. Since it was Saturday, there was no reason to dress up. He pulled on his favorite jeans and combed his wet hair. It was quite warm in his apartment, so he forfeited the shirt for the moment.

  He found Sarah in the kitchen, spooning scrambled eggs onto plates. She had made sausage and toast as well, and Jon’s stomach growled at the sight. The aroma was delicious. How long had it been since someone else cooked for him? Not since he left home. Hell, his own mother hardly ever cooked breakfast.

  Sarah looked up at Jon and smiled. He still had not put on his glasses, she noticed. He looked different without them. She also noticed that he was only wearing his faded blue jeans. His chest was broad and bare, without a shirt and just a sparse scattering of hair. It tapered down to a lean stomach where a line of light hair trailed from his belly button and disappeared into his pants. Her eyes traveled down further to reveal muscular legs and bare feet sticking out of his jeans. She decided that he had nice feet. He looked comfortable. At home. No wonder Michelle wanted his number, Sarah thought. He is delicious. Sarah wondered if his skin felt as smooth as it looked. Then, she banished the thought as quickly as it had invaded her mind. Jon was her attorney. Never mind that any physical relationship between the two of them would be improper and could cost him his license, but she was a murderer. Guys like Jon weren’t interested in girls like her.

  Jon noticed Sarah’s silent appraisal, but he said nothing. He felt her gaze over his skin as well as if she were touching him with her hands. Perhaps foregoing the shirt wasn’t such a good idea. But he made no move to correct that. He found that he enjoyed her attention. Jon was
not oblivious to the effect he had on females. In high school, he had been only slightly better than a guy slut. He would date anything that wore a skirt. In college, he became more selective, but the fact that he could have any girl he wanted was not lost on him. Over time, he had thought himself immune to the effects of women checking him out. Apparently not. He felt his body stirring to life in his jeans and decided it would be a good time to sit down before he embarrassed himself.

  “Looks great,” he said, scooping up a forkful of eggs. He chewed slowly, savoring the seasoning Sarah had used. “Tastes great, too.”

  “Thanks,” Sarah said, tearing into her own breakfast.

  “So, what do you want to do today?” Jon asked, nonchalant.

  “I don’t know,” Sarah said. “What do you think?”

  Jon thought about it for a minute, and then suggested that they get out and see the town. Maybe go shopping. “I don’t want to go out,” Sarah said. “I don’t like shopping. Never have. It’s really no fun when you don’t have the money to spend.”