Her eyebrows lifted, and Jack noticed her chest rise.
Bang. Set the hook.
“Would you like me to bring some up?” she offered.
They both moved closer, and Jack could once again smell the flowers on her breath. He gently touched her arm, nodded his head, and clamped his mouth shut.
Replacement. Damn.
“What’s wrong?”
“My…sister.” Jack’s hand fell to his side.
“The girl with you is your sister?” Disbelief and surprise, followed by understanding, flashed across her face. Jack shrugged and turned his hands out.
Game over. I shouldn’t be playing anyway.
“Thanks anyhow.” He sighed.
Jack turned and started to back up, and so did she.
“Can I at least get you a cup to take back to your room?” she asked with a smile on her face that begged him to follow her. She never took her eyes off him as she backed around the counter toward the open door. Jack swallowed and forced himself to walk slowly. Her hand traced along the wood of the countertop. She was using it to guide herself as she walked backward, but the soft gesture sent a spark up Jack’s spine.
Smiling, she turned and walked into the back room.
It was a dark interior room with only two tall lampstands for light. “I’ll be right back. The water’s already hot,” she told him.
There was a door on each side, and she disappeared through the far one.
Jack frowned as he scanned the room. All the furniture was antique, as was the rug.
Damn. I’m still soaked.
Jack debated about running back upstairs and changing but drove that thought from his mind. He looked at the well-preserved chairs and couch and remained standing, slowly dripping on the carpet. He shivered, and the cold seemed to rush back into his being. His head fell forward; he leaned against the doorjamb and closed his eyes. The smell of the old house mixed with the scent of the rain was calming. He inhaled a couple of times and cleared his throat.
His eyes opened at the sound of the door clicking shut. Ms. Foster stood in the doorway with a tea tray in her left hand and a robe over her right arm. Her eyes met his, and warmth spread inside his chest. Jack grinned and strode forward. He could see the flush on her neck as she swallowed.
“I thought you might need to warm up. I can dry your clothes.” She set the tray on a small table beside the couch and walked over to him, both arms held out with the robe draped over them. “You can use that room to change.” She tilted her head to the left but didn’t take her eyes off Jack.
“Thank you.” He caressed her hand as he took the robe and headed for the room on the right.
Slow down. Cool.
It was a small bathroom with just a sink, a toilet, and an ornate, full-length mirror stand. Jack’s hands shook as he quickly removed his clothes. He couldn’t tell whether it was the cold or nervousness.
How old is she? Mid-forties? She doesn’t look it. Dancer? Guaranteed she’s a dancer.
The robe could have been custom-made for him. It was a dark blue with ornate trim and fabric, matching the historical feel of the house. It was soft and warm, as if she’d just taken it out of the dryer. Jack relaxed into the warmth and closed his eyes. When he reopened them, he straightened up, checked himself in the mirror, and stood even taller. The robe gave him a regal appearance. Lord Jack of Tingsberry. The reflection in the mirror caused him to pause. He combed his fingers through his hair and rubbed his eyes. There were dark circles under them.
I have to get some sleep. I’m dying. He smiled. Maybe tonight I can sleep.
He opened the door and the woman was posed at the end of the couch. Jack paused after he closed the door. If you could travel back in time one hundred years, everything would have looked just like this.
“Tea?” She held out a cup.
Jack sat down at the edge of the couch and took the ornate teacup with a widening smile. “Thank you…” He let his words hang in the air as he realized he didn’t know her name.
“Kristine,” she answered with a slight nod.
A small moan escaped Jack’s lips as he sipped the tea. “That’s really good tea,” he said admiringly.
Kristine smiled broadly, set her cup down, and folded her hands in her lap. “Tea and a bath…” She laughed. “You’re a very good actor.”
Jack thought for a moment about protesting and continuing the charade, but one look at her face caused him to dismiss the idea.
She’s smart. She’ll see right through it.
“You’re right. I haven’t taken a bath since I was seven.” He smiled.
“Which probably wasn’t that long ago.”
As the mood changed, Jack saw his chance for romance plummeting. In situations like this, he went to his old standby: he told the truth.
“Kristine, I wasn’t interested in a bath or tea. Honestly, I wanted to tease you a little for making me walk and not giving me a room refund, but…” he exhaled and looked into her eyes, “there was also something about you. The way you move, like a dancer. When I got close to you, I could feel your breath and I smelled the chamomile.”
She leaned in. “I was a dancer.”
Jack leaned in, too. He had no idea how things were a hundred years ago, but he had a feeling two people didn’t go at it the way they were about to. With one hand, Jack lifted her up slightly off the couch and pulled her forward enough to be reclining. The move was so fast and fluid that Kristine exhaled as he gently laid her down. The kiss was new, but it was as if they’d been lovers and were well aware of each other’s rhythms. Jack’s eyes closed as he let the different sensations wash over him: the softness of her hair in his left hand and the firmness of her toned back in his right. Chamomile faintly danced on his tongue. Her hands drew him closer, and his leg rubbed against hers.
He slowly lowered his body onto hers, opened his eyes, and smiled back as she searched his face. Long lashes led to amber eyes that widened as he moved his hand down her side.
“That was some kiss,” she whispered as she closed her eyes and leaned forward again.
“You’re a good teacher.” Jack leaned in, but all the warmth from her mouth was gone. Her lips were pressed together hard, and her body had gone rigid.
“Get out,” she whispered, keeping her eyes closed.
Jack froze. This was the age of “no means no,” but he couldn’t understand the complete turnaround.
“Are you all ri—?”
“Now.”
There was a finality in the way she said the word and the way she clenched her jaw. She hadn’t opened her eyes again, but she turned her head away from him and toward the back of the couch. Jack carefully lifted himself off her and backed up toward the door. He moved quietly and quickly but hesitated when he grabbed the old doorknob.
“I’m sorry…” His words trailed off.
Kristine pulled her legs up and curled into a ball. He opened the door just enough to slip through and closed it behind him.
Damn it! My clothes.
Jack stood behind the desk in the ornate robe. Shoes, pants, and, most importantly, his keys were in the bathroom. He debated with himself for only a moment before he headed up the stairs.
This sucks. This sucks so bad.
He pulled the robe tighter around himself as the young couple from yesterday’s breakfast walked past him. They gave him an odd look, and he could hear them giggling as he passed.
Damn. Now I know how Replacement felt.
Complimentary Laundry
The door handle to his room turned and opened. He breathed a sigh of relief. If this had been a normal hotel, he would have been trapped in the hallway, but Replacement hadn’t locked the door.
“What happened to you?” Replacement snickered as he walked into the room. She sat up in bed, wrapped in a fluffy robe of her own, but her smile quickly vanished. “Where did you get that robe?”
“Um…my clothes were wet. The…front desk offered…to do the complimentary
laundry.”
“They do laundry?” Her neck lengthened, and her nose crinkled.
“Yeah. So they gave me a robe.”
“Can they dry my stuff?” She slid out of bed.
“No, they…only do one load per room a day. I’m sorry…I didn’t think.”
“It’s okay.” Her shoulders popped up and down. “I hung mine up in the bathroom. Do you want to take a bath?”
Jack shook his head.
Bath and a cup a tea? I’d have liked Kristine in the bath but… Why do I get the psycho ones?
“Are you going to sleep with me tonight?” Replacement asked innocently.
Jack’s head snapped up at the question, and his neck flushed. Replacement’s expression didn’t change as she continued to wait for him to answer her question regarding sleep and sleep only.
He sighed. “No. Thank you.”
“Please sleep with me.” She scooted around onto her knees in a mock begging position.
Jack swallowed. “I have…my air mattress.” He grabbed the box and held it up, turning away quickly.
“Suit yourself.” Replacement threw her hands in the air and fell back on the bed.
After forty-five minutes of huffing and puffing, the mattress was only half-filled with air. Jack leaned back against the bureau, and Replacement slid off the bed.
“Finally. My turn.” She picked up the corner of the mattress and began to blow air into it. Jack watched her for a few moments, and his eyes rolled up to the ceiling. A debate raged inside him now. On one hand: Replacement was Chandler’s sister and a guy took care of his best friend’s kid sister. On the other hand…
She said it herself…she doesn’t even consider me to be a big brother. She’s right: I wasn’t at Aunt Haddie’s while she was there. She likes me, and I—Stop it, Jack. I’m just worked up because of Kristine, and I haven’t had a date in…
“See?” Replacement hit his leg. “See how good I am? I’m way better at blowing than you. I only did it for a few minutes, and it’s almost all the way up.” She inhaled deeply and then breathed into the valve again. Jack shifted his position and held out his hands.
“Okay. That’s good enough.”
Replacement stopped, put down the mattress, and leaned onto it. It made a creaking sound as she bounced.
“I can sleep here,” she offered. “This is bouncy.” She got up on the mattress on all fours and bounced up and down. The bouncing was loosening her robe and it was slowly opening. He sat up a little straighter as the robe released a little more.
Just a couple more bounces…
Jack sighed and held up his hand to cover the view offered as her robe neared the fully opening point. Replacement saw what he was doing and awkwardly scurried off the mattress, clutching her robe together.
“That’s good. Thank you. I’ll sleep here.” Jack grabbed a sheet and blanket and moved onto the rubber contraption.
Replacement hurried back and wrapped herself in blankets. “Okay. Night.”
Jack lay sleepless as he tried to force himself to remain absolutely motionless. The slightest movement caused the whole bed to wobble like Jell-O. Morbid and dark thoughts slammed into his head, and now he felt helpless to even move. Depression washed over him.
Make a list for tomorrow. Get the info from Cindy. One by one, talk to the three suspects. What the hell happened with Kristine? Did she…maybe she just changed her mind. I didn’t see a ring. No indentation. What about…?
A slight hissing sound started at the top of the mattress. It quickly changed to a noise like a kid’s whoopee cushion, and then stopped. Jack kept his eyes closed and rolled his head in the direction of the noise. The movement alone was enough to cause another noise, as if someone farted, and it lasted for a few seconds this time.
Damn it.
Jack waited. The sound stopped. He listened for several more moments and rolled his head back to look up at the ceiling. Another long farty noise started, but this time it kept going.
Replacement giggled. After another few seconds, he did, too. Soon they both were crying with laughter as his bed slowly deflated.
Jack stopped laughing when his body finally settled onto the hard floor. He stood up, grabbed his blanket and lay down near the door. He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. Sleep wouldn’t come. Every time he shut his eyes, he could see those faces. His mother’s face would change back and forth between her young self and the woman screaming at the institution. Silently screaming is how he pictured his mother, her finger outstretched, terror in her eyes. Now three more faces tormented him.
The old woman from the store was really his grandmother. He could see the tears roll down her cheeks and her trembling lips.
She touched me. I’m her grandson. Will she believe it? Will she care?
Steven’s face flashed before him, but it was unclear. He couldn’t bring it up in his mind clearly. Jack thought about grabbing the yearbook and looking again but stopped himself.
He was just a kid. Seventeen.
Jack rolled over, and now Kristine’s face haunted him too.
Why? Why did she freak out? Now I’m stuck here for another five days, or I eat that money but—
Just outside the door, someone placed something down. Jack silently drew his legs up, rolled over, and crouched. He hadn’t heard the footsteps approach, but he did hear them leaving. His hand hesitated on the doorknob for only a moment before he cracked the door open. Next to the door were his clothes, neatly folded in a pile with his shoes on top. He was tempted to sprint down the stairs after her, but instead quietly picked up his clothes and retreated into the room.
He’s A Keeper
Jack shook.
Another nightmare…
He looked at his little hands and the pajamas he was wearing and started to panic. Jack sat on an old couch, in a grimy room. He pulled his legs up tightly against his chest and wrapped his arms around them. His focus was on the cartoon playing on the old television set, but when the bedroom door creaked open, he slid as far over on the couch as he could. His eyes darted to the bedroom door and his throat tightened when he saw a man come out instead of his mother. He clutched his legs and tried to keep his eyes on the television.
The man sat down at the cluttered kitchen table and wiped the back of his mouth with his hand. His shirt was open, and so was the top button on his jeans. Jack started to rock back and forth as the man continued to stare at him.
“This the one with the mouse and cat?” The man leaned forward and put his arms on the table. “I know this one.”
Jack nodded, but tried to keep his eyes straight ahead.
“You like cartoons, kid?” The man stood up, and Jack froze. “I like cartoons, too.” He walked over and flopped onto the other end of the couch. Jack could smell him from there. Smoke and other foul odors turned his stomach, but he tried not to make a face. The man grabbed a small cigarette from the ashtray and lit it.
“How old are you?” He turned his head toward Jack as he exhaled, and the cloud wafted over the little boy like a smoky blanket. The man’s voice was deep and, when he talked, Jack could see his yellowed teeth.
“Six.” Jack kept his eyes on the television, but he could feel the man move slightly closer to him.
“Do you—?”
Jack jumped off the couch and sprinted for the bathroom. He didn’t turn around when he heard the footsteps behind him, but Jack yanked over the kitchen chair as he passed it to block the man’s path.
“Stupid,” the man snarled from behind.
Jack slammed the bathroom door, and his heart sank as he looked at the knob. No lock. He turned his back to the door and pressed his legs against the bathroom cabinet. The man crashed into the door, partly forcing it open before Jack was able to slam it shut again.
Jack braced himself, and the man pushed hard against the door. Slowly, it opened until the man’s arm appeared. His hand grabbed vainly as it reached for Jack.
“Out,” Jack screamed as he shr
ank down and pushed harder. His legs burned, and the man’s hand got closer to him.
Don’t stop! He’ll get you. Push, you stupid idiot.
Jack shoved harder, but his little legs began to shake.
The man grabbed Jack by his hair and slammed his head back into the door. Jack’s eyes rolled back, and he fell on the floor. The man’s fingers tightened around a clump of Jack’s hair and he dragged him out from behind the door.
Jack twisted around and bit his wrist. The man screamed, and his hand opened so that Jack could scramble backward to the far end of the bathroom.
I’m trapped.
Jack turned back around, and the man slowly pushed the door the rest of the way open. The man rubbed his wrist, his face twisted in pain.
“You’re gonna pay for that, you little—”
“Get away from him!”
Mommy!
The man backed away from the door. Jack’s mother crouched low and stood between Jack and the man. She clutched a knife in her hand.
“You crazy whore,” the man shrieked, and Jack heard him fall over the chair.
“Get out!” His mother waved the knife in front of her.
Jack ran up and hid behind her legs. The man stood up and glared at her.
“Put the knife down,” he ordered.
“Get out, or I’ll kill you,” his mother growled.
“You couldn’t hurt a fly.” He lunged forward and screamed as she cut him. He grabbed his right hand with his left as blood ran down his arm.
“You won’t be the first man I’ve killed,” she confessed.
The words froze Jack, and everything began to slow. He watched as she waved the knife in front of her, and a large drop of blood fell off the blade and then splattered on the grimy floor. She turned to look at Jack, and her lips trembled. Jack fell backward, and the floor seemed to disappear from underneath him as he tumbled downward…
Jack sat up, gasping for air. He panted as he listened to the silence. He heard Replacement roll over, but her steady breathing told him she was still sleeping. He lay back on the floor and stared up at the ceiling again. His right hand kept shaking, so he grabbed it with his left.
JACK KNIFED Page 8
