When Jennifer woke, she was startled to see that it was dark outside. “Where are we?” she asked, rubbing her eyes and trying to focus on the countryside.
“In Massachusetts. We just passed Boston. Maine is about an hour-and-a-half from here.”
“Lord! I must have been more tired than I realized.”
“You were snoozing pretty good,” Eric admitted.
“You were snoring, Mom.” Tanner said from the back seat, obviously amused.
“No I wasn’t,” Jennifer protested.
“You were. Ask Eric.”
Jennifer looked over at Eric. He smiled wickedly and wiggled his eyebrows. “It was a really cute snore,” he said.
Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Great,” she muttered.
“Feel up to stopping for something to eat?” Eric asked. “It’s after eight.”
“I am hungry,” Jennifer said, hearing her stomach grumble at the mention of food.
“Well then, that settles it. Although Tanner and I had decided to mutiny if you said no.”
“Oh, really?”
“Really.”
Eric smiled at her and Jennifer was struck by how handsome he looked. She felt a warm rush inside her chest, accompanied by a tiny thrill of hope. Maybe this whole nightmare would go away. If she tried just a little, she could almost imagine this was just a nice vacation away and not a frantic flee for their lives.
She studied Eric’s profile as he drove. She liked his face, liked the way his cheek dimpled when he smiled, liked the way his hair hung down over his forehead, liked the way his eyes sparkled when he teased her. Obviously Tanner liked him, too. She thought of Evan then, and realized that though she liked him well enough, and thought him attractive and strong and independent, there was no real emotion there. The thought of never seeing Evan again didn’t bother her much. The thought of never seeing Eric again made panic rise in her throat like bile. Curious. She sighed heavily. What a lousy time to be falling in love, she thought.
They polished off two pizzas, filled up the gas tank, and were back on the road inside of an hour with Jennifer driving.
“Where in Maine are we headed?” Eric asked, no longer able to contain his curiosity.
“Portland. Actually, we’re going to an island off the coast near Portland.”
“An island? As in taking a ferry and all that?”
Jennifer nodded.
Tanner said, “We’re taking a fairy? You mean like Tinkerbell?”
Eric choked out a laugh. “No,” he said chuckling. “That kind of fairy is f-a-i-r-y. This one is f-e-r-r-y. It’s a big boat that carries cars across the water,” he explained.
“Cool,” Tanner said. Scotch barked, apparently to confirm Tanner’s sentiment.
Eric and Tanner played a game of license plate poker for a while, then Eric went in search of a radio station. He finally settled on an oldies station and they drove into downtown Portland to the sound of old Beatles’ tunes.
Jennifer pulled into the ferry station a few minutes before eleven. A large schedule board above the ticket office told them they had five minutes before the last trip of the evening. Jennifer borrowed a phone book and, after finding her mother’s name listed, bought a ticket for Granite Island.
There were only four other cars in line for the ferry and theirs was the only one in the lane marked for Granite. Once they were on board, they left Scotch in the car, whining and barking in protest, and went up to the top deck.
The fresh air was a welcome relief after the dark, diesel-scented deck below. With a blast of the horn that made Jennifer jump, the ferry shuddered and got underway amid a cloud of smoke and a whine from the engine.
Jennifer took Tanner’s hand and made her way out onto one of two triangular promontories overlooking the end of the boat, their outer edges curved so that they looked like a lobster claw. Though considerably cooler than it had been in Virginia, the night air still carried a hint of warmth. Eric came up and stood close behind Jennifer, the heat from his body radiating cozily against her back. She had an impulse to lean against him, letting his strength and warmth support her, but instead, she gripped the railing with one hand and let her other arm drape across Tanner’s shoulders.
The boat chugged past the docks, which Jennifer knew would be bustling with activity by daylight: big steamers being loaded and unloaded, little tug boats maneuvering the bigger ships into place, weathered-looking men on fishing boats operating cranes and forklifts. As they headed out into open sea, a large octagon-shaped structure loomed up off to their left. Jennifer pointed toward it.
“That’s Fort Gorges,” she explained. “It was built in 1858 and used as a gatepost to ward off incoming ships during the First World War.”
Eric and Tanner both peered into the darkness, trying to make some sense of the lightened shadows. As they passed by the fort into more open water, the air grew cooler and the sea choppier. Jennifer spread her feet further apart to accommodate the motion of the boat and she felt Eric’s hand on her shoulder.
“You don’t get seasick, do you?” he asked.
“No, you’re safe with me. I’ve ridden this ferry enough times to know.”
“Did you grow up around here?”
“No. I grew up in Virginia Beach. But my parents moved up here when I was in high school. I kind of fell in love with the place and visited as often as I could once I went away to college. Until my father’s death.”
Tanner, with that damnable curiosity that children possess, asked, “How did your father die? Was he in an accident like Dad? Did somebody kill him?”
Jennifer looked down at Tanner, his face marked by innocence and exhaustion. He stared back at her and she reached over and ruffled his hair.
“No, sweetie. My father died from a heart attack.”
“What’s that?”
Eric chimed in. “That’s when your heart gets too sick to keep working. When your heart stops beating, you die.”
Tanner chewed on his lip, seeming to digest this bit of information. Then he asked, “Could my heart stop beating?”
“Not for a long, long time,” Jennifer said, pulling him in closer. She felt a sudden surge of love for her son, an almost painful tug at her emotions. Thousands of years’ worth of evolutionary maternal instincts welled up in her. She vowed then that no one would harm her child. She would fight to her dying breath to protect him and silently cursed whatever fates had allowed her son to know so much grief and fear at such a young age.
Eric, sensing her emotional state, snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her and Tanner back against him. Jennifer resisted a little at first, but Eric held on firmly and whispered in her ear.
“You’re not alone, Jen. I’m here to help you. We will get through this.”
She finally let herself lean against him, drawing strength from his strength, feeling her resolve grow, grateful he was with her.
“Thank you,” she whispered back.
For a response, she felt the soft warmth of his lips on the back of her head and his arms tightened almost imperceptibly around her waist.
The boat passed between a dozen or so small islands, the full moon illuminating eroded banks with trees growing out from them at impossible angles, looking as if they might topple into the water at any moment.
“Look, Mom!” Tanner said suddenly, nudging Jennifer with an elbow and pointing toward a small crop of jagged rocks that created a mini island a hundred feet or so off to their right. Sitting on one of the larger rocks was a pair of sea lions, one almost twice as big as the other. Their fur was sleek and wet looking, casting off an odd reddish blue tint in the moonlight.
“Those are sea lions,” Jennifer explained. “You don’t get to see them too often. Every once in a while a couple of them will wander down here from Newfoundland.”
“That’s really cool,” Tanner said, obviously impressed.
The animals watched them pass with little interest until the larger one, apparently bored with the interruption, closed its eyes and rolled over onto its side. The smaller one maintained a watchful eye until the boat had moved beyond the island and out into another small stretch of open water. The breeze picked up again and Jennifer shivered.
Eventually they were once again shielded by islands on either side and the ferry docked twice in a period of fifteen minutes. They watched as the other cars on board drove off the boat and down narrow, rickety-looking docks. Within minutes after getting underway again, a large, dark shadow loomed up ahead.
“There’s Granite Island,” Jennifer said, pointing.
The island was considerably larger than the others they had passed, its shore wrapping around for a mile or so in either direction before disappearing around bends in the land.
“We’d best get back to the car,” Jennifer said reluctantly. She was thoroughly enjoying this little foray and was loath to have it end. The sentiment was compounded when Eric released his hold on her and stepped back, leaving her back feeling cold and lonely. They made their way below deck and greeted a whining Scotch as they settled back inside the Explorer. Within ten minutes they were on land once again.
Jennifer followed the road toward her mother’s house, surprised at how much she remembered. There was really only one main road: a long circuitous route that followed the circumference of the island. She pulled onto a gravel road after a mile or so and bounced down it to a tree-lined lane. This she followed to its end – a clearing nestled in the woods. At its center sat a large, log A-frame, its windows dark and empty looking.
If it hadn’t been for the battered pickup parked nearby, Jennifer might have thought no one was home. She glanced at her watch, saw it was almost one o’clock, and figured her mother was most likely asleep. She turned off the engine and stared out the window, serenaded by the rhythmic tick of the engine as it cooled and the raucous calls of frogs and crickets. Finally she turned to Eric.
“You and Tanner wait here. I want to do this alone.”
Eric nodded and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Holler if you need me.”
“Thanks.”
She got out and walked around to the front porch. She climbed the three wooden stairs slowly, recalling the time she had sat out here on a late summer’s night, discussing her plans for the future with her father. College, teaching, marriage, children – it had all seemed so simple back then. How could she have known what a twisted and hazardous road her life would follow? She was almost glad her father wasn’t alive to see what a shambles her life’s hopes and dreams had become.
She sucked in a deep breath, bit her lip, and knocked loudly on the door. She waited, her ears tuned to the slightest noise on the other side of the door. After a few minutes, she knocked again. Once she thought she heard footsteps moving inside, but no one came to the door. Her hand was raised, about to knock for a third time, when she heard her mother’s voice yell through the door, “Who is it?”
For a fleeting moment Jennifer was tempted to turn and run. Then she realized she had nowhere to run to.
“It’s Jennifer, Mom. I need your help. I’m in trouble.”
There was a long period of silence and Jennifer worried that her mother might refuse to let her in. Then she heard the lock turn and the door opened. A doughy, round face framed with white hair peered out at her from the dark.
“Jennifer? Is that really you?”
Jennifer recognized the voice, but the face looking out at her was nothing like the one she remembered. Her mother had always been such a beautiful woman with her peaches-and-cream complexion, the same strawberry blonde hair she herself had, and clear, lively blue eyes filled with laughter and love. The woman before her was haggard-looking with the sickly pallor of a shut-in. Her mother had aged, she realized. And not particularly well. She was besieged by a sudden surge of emotion, a need to cry, and an almost desperate need to turn back the clock and be a child again, back when life was still innocent and full of love.
“It’s me, Mom,” she said with a barely controlled voice. “I have my son with me. And a friend.”
Her mother stared at her, mouth agape, eyes still half-asleep.
“Please, Mom. I need your help. I’m in trouble.”
Her mother cracked the door a bit wider and peered out toward the car. “You have a son?” she asked.
“Yes. His name is Tanner. He’s eight, almost nine.”
Her mother continued to gape at her for a moment. Then her face split into a smile and she opened the door wide.
“Bring him in.” With that she turned back into the house, leaving the door open behind her.
By the time Jennifer returned leading Eric, who was carrying their one suitcase with Tanner and Scotch tailing behind him, the house was brilliantly lit. As they mounted the steps, Scotch, apparently distracted by an enticing sound or smell, detoured off into the surrounding woods, barking excitedly as she bounded away.
Jennifer stepped across the threshold and stopped in the small foyer, scanning the room laid out before her. The foyer opened onto a large great room with a high, beamed ceiling. To the left was a doorway to the kitchen and dining area, to the right, another that led to her parents’ bedroom and a guest room. Straight ahead was a stairway that climbed up to the large, closed in loft area that had been Jennifer’s room.
The great room was furnished with old, but comfortable, furniture. A sitting area – composed of a fatly-stuffed couch perpendicularly bordered by two mismatched arm chairs, the entire arrangement nestled around an oval braided rug – was situated before a massive stone fireplace that filled most of the front wall of the room. The floors, made of highly polished hardwood, gleamed golden in the soft glow of lamp light.
On the far left wall a stained-glass window ran from ceiling to floor, partially obscured by a roll-top desk and chair. Beside the desk sat an antique rocker, its seat shiny and smooth from years of use. Jennifer flashed on a memory of her father sitting at the desk working on his papers, while she sat in the rocker beside him watching multi-colored patterns of light dance on the floor as the afternoon sun shone in through the window. The memory filled her with a keen sense of loss, followed by an acute stab of nostalgia. Tears burned at her eyes and a lump formed in her throat.
Her attention was diverted by her mother’s appearance in the doorway leading to the kitchen. Jennifer’s expression of wistful reminiscence hardened into one of bitterness as her nostalgic yearnings were swiftly replaced with an all-too-familiar feeling of repugnance. She glared at her mother, feeling all the old animosities return, despising her for what she had done, for all the ruin and destruction she had wrought.
Then, slowly, the hazy veil of Jennifer’s rancor lifted and her eyes absorbed the pathetic sight of her mother’s aged face and body: the shuffling gait, the worn, terry-cloth bathrobe, the thinning white hair with its pink scalp showing through. As suddenly as it had come on, her anger dissipated.
Apparently oblivious to her daughter’s mixed emotions, Jennifer’s mother approached the threesome and smiled down at Tanner. “So this is my grandson,” she said.
Tanner hid behind Eric’s legs, peering out over the top of the suitcase with an expression that was a mixture of fear and revulsion. Jennifer saw Tanner’s reaction, saw her mother’s face fall, and felt a spasm of guilt. She opened her mouth to offer some sort of apology or reassurance, but her mother recovered quickly and shifted her eyes to Eric. “And this is my son-in-law?” she asked with a half-smile.
“No, Mother. This is a friend of mine, Eric Singleton. Eric, this is my mother, Jane Harren.”
Jane’s eyebrows raised in puzzlement, but just for a moment. She extended a hand to Eric and said, “Welcome.” Then she cast an inquiring glance at Jennifer, waiting.
Jennifer’s first impulse was to resent her mother’s prying. What right did the woman have, after all these years, after everything she had done, to know anything about her daughter’s life? But then she recalled the dire straits they were in and how badly they needed her mother’s hospitality. Who knew how long they would have to stay here? She supposed the woman was entitled to some type of explanation and so decided to oblige the woman’s curiosity.
“My husband, Tim – Tanner’s father – was killed in a car accident eight years ago,” she explained.
“Oh,” Jane said clumsily, looking at the floor, her face coloring. “I’m sorry.”
An awkward silence followed until Jane raised her eyes to look at Tanner. The boy stepped sideways, further hiding himself behind Eric’s legs.
“Tanner,” Jane said as if she was tasting the word. “I like that name.” She flashed him a smile and then turned away. “You can stay in the loft in your mother’s old room,” she said over her retreating shoulder. “It’s exactly the same as when she left it.” With that, she disappeared into the kitchen, her gait shuffling, her shoulders hunched.
The words slammed into Jennifer like a knife in her chest. With sudden clarity, she saw that her mother’s pain had equaled, maybe even surpassed her own and the knowledge filled her with shame. Had she been too unforgiving? Too stubborn? After all, this was the same woman who had brought her into this world, who had loved her unerringly all those years, whose charm and wit had been an example for Jennifer to model herself after. What had happened to that woman? Was this pathetic shell of a human being all that was left?
The sound of Jane’s voice hollering from the kitchen interrupted Jennifer’s self-flogging. “I’ve put on some tea,” she yelled. “And some hot cocoa for the boy.”
A whining and scratching sound erupted behind the threesome in the foyer, and Tanner left his hiding place behind Eric’s legs long enough to let Scotch in. The dog darted into the great room and commenced an almost frantic, sniffing exploration of its contents.
Jennifer looked up at Eric and said, “Come on. I’ll show you where to put the suitcase.” She led Tanner and Eric down the hallway off to the right. There was a bathroom straight ahead and a bedroom on either side. “You can set the suitcase in there,” Jennifer said, pointing toward the room on the right. As Eric squeezed past her, she turned and looked in at what had been her parents’ room.
All of the furnishings had been changed. The old four-poster double bed had been replaced with a twin-size, its sheets and blankets thrown back from her mother’s hasty exit. Her father’s dresser was gone, and her mother’s matching one had been replaced by a small vanity. Even the curtains were different. The changes served as a fresh reminder of her father’s death and Jennifer felt another stab of the old resentment and anger.
In contrast to her parents’ room, the guest room hadn’t changed: a double bed, an old highboy, a single chair. Then it dawned on Jennifer that with Tanner sleeping in her old twin bed in the loft, it left only this bed for her and Eric. She thought about sleeping with him, not in a sexual sense, but simply sharing the same bed. Though the thought was anything but repulsive, she wasn’t sure she was ready for that yet.
Once again seeming to read her mind, Eric said, “I can sleep on the couch.”
Jennifer flashed him a grateful smile.
“I don’t suppose there’s any chance of a shower,” he added hopefully.
“Of course. The bathroom is at the end of the hallway. I’ll get you some towels.” Jennifer led the way, noticing as she did that Eric’s limp was more pronounced than it had been earlier. “Is your leg bothering you?” she asked, concern in her voice.
“A bit,” Eric admitted. “I need to change the dressing on it and clean it up again.”
Tanner stuck close to Jennifer as she took Eric into the bathroom and showed him where the towels and such were. When she had Eric set with everything he needed, she turned and headed out to the kitchen with Tanner practically clinging to her leg. Scotch joined up with them in the great room, apparently satisfied that there were no threats lurking in the corners.
Jennifer found her mother in the kitchen pouring hot water into four mugs she had set out on the kitchen table.
“Oh, my!” Jane said when she saw Scotch. “A dog, too.”
“I hope you don’t mind,” Jennifer said, feeling like an interloper.
“Of course not!” Jane said with a dismissing wave of her hand. “I love animals! When I was a little girl, we always had a house full of pets. In fact, I had to give up my dog, Max, when I married your father. He was deathly allergic to animals, you know. It nearly broke my heart to give old Max away, though the folks who took him seemed like good, kind people.”
This bit of knowledge surprised Jennifer. She never had any idea that her mother loved animals, or that her father was the reason behind the lack of pets while she was growing up. She wondered if her mother had ever resented having to give up her dog. Then she wondered if there were other sacrifices her mother had made over the years, ones Jennifer had not been aware of. She realized just how little she actually knew about her parents’ relationship. Maybe she had been too hasty in her judgments.
“Why didn’t you get another dog after Daddy died?” Jennifer asked.
“I did,” Jane said. “Though not for a few years. At first I didn’t want the responsibility of taking care of one. It was hard enough just taking care of myself every day. But then things got pretty lonely around here, so I went over to the mainland and picked up a three-year-old, shepherd-collie mix at the pound that was scheduled to be put down the next day.” Jane gazed off into space, a gentle smile forming.
“I named him Socks because he had these four white paws.” Her smile faded and she looked back at Jennifer. “He got cancer last year and I had to have him put to sleep. I decided I had had enough losses for one lifetime and never got another.” Tears glistened at the corners of her eyes and she blinked them away and turned to smile at Tanner. “Do you like hot chocolate?” she asked him.
He didn’t answer her right away, but when Jennifer nudged him he managed to mutter an “uh-huh”.
“Well climb right on up here then,” Jane said patting one of the chairs at the table. “How about some marshmallows?”
“Okay,” Tanner said without prompting. Jennifer could tell her son was warming up to his grandmother and had mixed feelings about whether or not that was a good thing.
“And your mother can sit here next to you,” Jane added, sliding one of the mugs across the table. She looked at Jennifer and asked, “Where is your friend?”
“He’s taking a shower,” Jennifer explained. “We’re all a little grungy.”
“I see,” Jane said, turning to put the tea kettle back on the stove.
Jennifer knew her mother was hoping for more of an explanation but she didn’t offer any. As she slid into the chair beside Tanner, she acknowledged to herself that her behavior was childish and petty, but she couldn’t help it.
Jane removed a bag of miniature marshmallows from the freezer and set it down in front of Tanner. Then she took the seat across the table from Jennifer, wrapping her hands around her mug of steaming tea, and sipping it slowly. Jennifer did the same and the three of them sat around the table in awkward silence, sipping at their cups, trying to avoid eye contact.
It was Jane who finally bridged the gap. “Should I ask what sort of trouble it is you’re in?”
Jennifer sipped at her tea to stall for time. It was orange flavored, topped off with a generous dollop of honey, and it felt wonderfully soothing as it went down. She held the cup beneath her chin, letting the aromatic steam waft up over her face while she considered her mother’s request. She decided there was little to be gained by hiding the truth and was sure her mother posed no threat to their safety. So she told the entire story: starting with the accident eight years ago, then Tanner’s recent head injury and the subsequent strange phenomenon, Eric’s involvement, and their suspicions about Bioceutics. She ended with the shooting incident at the hospital and their flight here.
Jane gaped at her as the story progressed, ignoring her cup of tea as it cooled on the table.
“That is quite the story,” Jane said when Jennifer was finished.
Jennifer could hear the skepticism in her mother’s voice and at first it angered her. But then she remembered her own initial reluctance to accept the truth and decided she would try to be more open-minded about her mother’s reaction.
“I know it sounds rather farfetched,” Jennifer said. “I didn’t want to believe any of it myself.”
“Are you sure you’re interpreting things right?” Jane asked. “Maybe it’s not what it seems. Sometimes we can read things into circumstances that aren’t necessarily the truth.”
For some reason, Jennifer suspected her mother’s comment carried some subtle, hidden implications – a double meaning. Was she still talking about their present situation? Or was this last statement some sort of veiled reference to the past? She studied her mother’s face, trying to read the impetus behind the words, but the woman’s placid expression revealed nothing.
“I wish it weren’t true,” Jennifer said tiredly. “But I’m afraid it is. Believe me, if I could change the facts and bring back the life I had before all this began, I would.”
She realized that her own words also carried a double meaning, making them as applicable to past situations as they were to the present one. These mind games were making her tired and irritable. She looked over at Tanner and saw that both his eyes and his head were growing heavier by the moment.
“I think I need to put this guy to bed,” she said rising from the table, glad for an excuse to get away. She took Tanner by the hand and led him – Scotch, as usual, following close behind – back out to the great room and up to the loft.
At the top of the stairs she stopped a moment, staring at the room that had been hers. As her mother had said, it was exactly as she had left it: her high school banner hung on the wall over the bed, her old stereo was tucked in a corner with an assortment of albums from the late seventies stacked below, her volleyball team trophy gleamed from the dresser, and her ragged, stuffed bear, Dexter, stared back at her from the bed with one glass eye. In the windowsill sat a ceramic unicorn, a gift from Ben Harrington, her first love and the first boy she had ever kissed. A multitude of memories flooded her mind – memories of an easier, more carefree time. For one, fleeting moment she was eighteen again – full of anticipation, planning for her college education and a career in teaching, looking toward a future that stretched endlessly ahead of her. Odd, she thought, how different a path life can follow than what we plan and hope for.
Feeling Tanner’s exhausted body slump heavily against her leg, she shook off her memories and came back to the here and now. She helped Tanner undress, realizing just how tired he was when he didn’t protest about his near nakedness as she tucked him into bed in nothing more than his undershorts. Sitting on the edge of the bed beside him, she smoothed his hair back off his face and watched as his eyelids slowly succumbed to the battle to stay open. Something about watching her son’s sleeping face always made her painfully aware of how vulnerable and fragile he was. She loved him with a ferocity that surprised her. She knew that if it came down to a choice between her own life and Tanner’s, she would gladly give up her own. Was there any other love in the universe as strong or as intense as that of a mother for her child?
The question made Jennifer’s thoughts turn to her own mother. She wondered if the same fierce emotion she was feeling now had also consumed her mother when Jennifer was little. If her mother’s feelings were even half of what she herself felt, then all the recent years of cold-hearted ostracism had to have been unbearably painful. She tried to imagine how she would feel if Tanner were to suddenly cut her out of his life, refusing all contact. The notion left her feeling shaken and forlorn. Maybe she had been too stubbornly bitter, too unforgiving. Maybe it was time to bury the past.
Scotch leaped onto the bed, allowed Jennifer to pat her on the head, and then snuggled up next to Tanner.
Jennifer couldn’t help but smile. “You watch out for him, Scotch,” she said, giving the dog a final pat on the head. Then she kissed Tanner on the forehead and flipped off the light. She started to go back downstairs but remembered something and turned back. She walked over to the closet, opened the door, and flipped on the light, giving the room a faint glow.
When Jennifer came back downstairs, she saw Eric sitting on the couch talking to her mother, who sat in one of the nearby chairs with her feet tucked up beneath her. His hair was dark and damp against the back of his neck and though he had put his slacks back on, he had forgone the green shirt in favor of the white T-shirt he had worn beneath it. She saw that he had his injured leg stretched out in front of him and he was gently massaging the knee.
As she drew closer, she became mesmerized by the way the muscles in his back and shoulders moved beneath the thin white cotton of his shirt as he kneaded his leg. From there, her eyes wandered up to the nape of his neck, saw the way his damp hair curled down almost to his collar, and began to imagine what it would be like to kiss that spot. So caught up was she in her imaginings, that for one brief moment she could actually feel the wet softness of his hair against her lips and smell the fragrance of soap and shampoo mingled with the scent she had come to know was Eric. She felt a delicious tingle deep in her gut, as if her insides had gone all liquid all of a sudden. Then she remembered where she was and the grim facts surrounding their arrival here.
Embarrassed, she shook off the images in her mind, admonishing herself for such flights of fancy. Now was no time for romantic foolishness. The first order of business was to get some rest, then tomorrow they needed to put together some sort of game plan.
As she approached the sitting area she heard Eric say, “Best I can figure, Tim must have made some sort of discovery in whatever it was he was working on. Something big, with far-reaching, maybe even criminal applications. My guess is that he realized what he had and that was what got him killed. It was pure luck that Jennifer and Tanner didn’t go with him.”
“Any idea what it was he was working on?” Jane asked.
“None,” Jennifer answered as she rounded one end of the couch.
Eric turned and looked up at her with a smile. “Tanner asleep?”
She nodded and sat down on the couch next to him. Eager to continue the previous line of discussion, she said, “You know, without knowing what it was that Tim was working on, we don’t have a snowball’s chance of figuring a way out of all this.”
“I’m surprised Tanner doesn’t know,” Eric puzzled. “If Tim is truly able to communicate with him, why hasn’t he told him what this project was about?”
“Maybe he has, and Tanner just doesn’t understand it,” Jane surmised. “Or maybe Tim’s trying to protect him.”
Jennifer stared at her mother, amazed at how quickly the woman seemed to accept the fact that Tanner was able to talk with his dead father.
“You may have a point there, Mrs. Harren,” Eric said thoughtfully. He cast a questioning look at Jennifer. “Didn’t Tanner say Tim mentioned something about some papers that were hidden in the house?”
Jennifer nodded.
“Then maybe he wants us to find the papers.”
“That would mean going back to the house,” Jennifer said. “That would be suicide.”
“Maybe not,” Eric said thoughtfully. “Think about it a minute. They know we’re onto them and they should know by now that we’ve taken flight. Your house is the last place they’d expect us to go. And they’ve already searched it for themselves.”
“Still,” Jennifer said, shaking her head, “they’d be bound to have someone watching the place. We can’t assume they’re stupid.”
Eric frowned. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” Then his face lit up. “How about this?” he said excitedly. “We give them a false trail to follow, leak information to them somehow that suggests we are somewhere far away from the house. If they have no reason to suspect we’re anywhere in the area, they might lighten up their guard. With all the woods surrounding your house, we ought to be able to sneak close enough for a peek without anyone that might have been left behind being any the wiser.”
“Maybe,” Jennifer said. “But it sounds too dangerous. We’d have to leave Tanner here.”
“Except Tanner is our key to finding those papers,” Eric argued. “Damn! There has to be a way. Let me think about it a while longer.” He leaned against the back of the couch and stretched his arms. “In the meantime, my body is screaming for some sleep.”
“Mine too,” Jennifer said. “Mother, have you some extra blankets for Eric?”
“Blankets?” Jane looked thoroughly confused.
“So he can sleep here on the couch,” Jennifer said.
“Oh. Oh!” Jane looked flustered and got up quickly from her chair. “Blankets. Certainly,” she mumbled as she shuffled off down the hall toward the bedrooms.
“I think your mother was expecting us to sleep together,” Eric said, leering at Jennifer. “I think she suspects you are living in sin.”
“She should know,” Jennifer said bitterly. “She’s the expert.”
“What?”
“My father left her when he discovered she was having an affair,” Jennifer explained, feeling all the old animosity return.
“Oh.” Eric pondered this new bit of information. “That explains a lot.”
Jane returned with some sheets, a blanket, and a pillow. “Here you are. I hope the couch isn’t too uncomfortable.”
Eric bounced up and down in his seat. Jennifer suspected he must have taken another one of the pain pills, for the movement didn’t seem to bother him in the least.
“Feels like heaven to me,” Eric said. “Actually, I’m so tired I think I could sleep on a rock.”
“Well, I’m going to go back to bed,” Jane said. “I’ll see you in the morning. Feel free to help yourself to anything in the kitchen.” With that, she shuffled back down the hallway. Seconds later, Jennifer and Eric heard the bedroom door close.
Jennifer rose to head to her own room and Eric stood up with her, giving her a sly, half smile.
“Since I don’t get the delight of sleeping with you, what are the chances of getting a kiss before you go off to bed?” he asked, his eyes gleaming. His dimple was so deep Jennifer thought she could lose a finger in it.
She gave him a coy smile. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”
He removed his glasses, carelessly tossed them onto a nearby chair, and moved a step closer.
As Jennifer gazed up into the green depths of his eyes, he lifted her chin with his hand and lowered his face. Then she closed her eyes, prepared to feel the touch of his mouth on hers. Instead, she felt the soft caress of his lips brush against her forehead. Then he pressed a gentle kiss against each of her eyelids, following that with one on each cheek. This unexpected assault on everything but her lips left Jennifer feeling somehow cheated and she reached up and wrapped a hand around Eric’s head, pulling his lips down to hers.
His kiss was tentative at first, his lips playing lightly over her own, feeling, tasting, exploring. Then his mouth parted slightly and she felt his tongue dance across her bottom lip.
Jennifer felt herself grow warm beneath his touch and despite her exhaustion, her body began to stir. She felt a tingle deep inside and ever so subtly pulled his head closer. Her own lips parted and their tongues explored mutual territory – sliding over lips, teeth, gums – gently at first, then with heated fervor. She felt Eric’s arms slide around her waist and pull her even closer to him, so that she could feel the hot hardness of him against her belly. She moaned, thrilled at the sensations that coursed through her. Her tongue became more insistent and she lost herself in the taste of him, all warm and spicy, like the tea.
Eric’s mouth left hers and he leaned back, making her moan her displeasure. She opened her eyes and saw his green ones smoldering down at her, taking her in, communicating his need. His breathing was heavy and stertorous, the muscles in his jaw twitched with tension as he waited.
She gave him her answer by arching into him and throwing back her head, exposing the soft white of her throat.
His head dropped and his lips worked their way around and down her neck. It was then that she knew she was powerless to stop him. Not that she wanted to. Her breasts began to tingle, then to ache with the delicious feelings that were coursing through her. She felt his hand snake beneath her shirt and she grabbed it and urged it toward its mark, needing to feel his touch on her aching breasts. He cupped one breast, flicking his thumb across its nipple, making her moan in ecstasy and arch her back even more, until she was rubbing her groin against the pulsing hardness between them.
His mouth continued its downward journey as the hand beneath her blouse gave up its hold on her breast long enough to reach around behind her and unfasten her bra. Then the hand returned, squeezing around her breast as his mouth moved down to her chest. The hot, wet pull of his mouth on her nipple through the fabric of her shirt was so exquisite, she thought she would die from the sheer pleasure of it. He sucked gently at first, his tongue flicking across the fabric that clung moist and hot against her hardened, aching nipple. Then his tempo quickened, until he was sucking at her breast greedily, like a starving infant. Jennifer held his head against her chest, her head lolling back, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful. Just when she thought she couldn’t stand it another minute, he pulled away, leaving her throbbing nipple protruding ridiculously through her shirt. Her head snapped up and her eyes flew open to find his face inches from hers, his green eyes hypnotizing, his lips swollen and red from where they had abused her flesh.
“I want you, Jen,” he said hoarsely.
She dropped down onto the couch, lying back against the arm and pulling him down beside her. She watched with hungry anticipation as his hands unbuttoned the front of her blouse, laying aside the edges. Then he slid the loosened bra up toward her neck, exposing her eager breasts to his full view. They heaved with her breathless anticipation, poking up at him, the nipples red and swollen with need. She moaned as his lips once again suckled her, his hands kneading her.
Feeling the delightful quickenings in her body, the liquid heat between her legs, she guided one of his hands toward her pants. Then she found her way inside his shirt, running her palms over the hairless chest, feeling his own nipples harden beneath her touch. She felt his hands undo the button on her pants, felt the zipper slide down, felt the incredible heat of his hand on her mons.
He stood up abruptly, his face a visage of lusty need, and tugged at the waist of her pants. She obliged him by lifting her hips off the couch and he slid down pants and panties in one smooth move. She wriggled one foot loose but left her pants hanging on the other as she stared transfixed at Eric undoing his own pants. He dropped them to the floor and stepped out of them, his red and swollen penis bobbing.
Jennifer’s eyes roved over his body from head to toe, delighting in the half-naked perfection of him, finally settling her gaze on his throbbing tumescence. She reached out and wrapped her hand around it, squeezing gently, feeling it pulse against her palm.
Eric closed his eyes and moaned, his head rolling back. His hand came up and wrapped itself over her own, guiding her, showing her how to please him. Jennifer moved her hand with his, sliding up and down his hardened member, occasionally rubbing her thumb across the velvety head. When his legs started to tremble, he stopped her and pulled her hand away, kneeling down beside her.
He started to explore again with his tongue, mapping out her breasts, her belly, her thighs. She writhed beneath him, her hands snaking through his hair. When at last he rose up to settle down on top of her, she parted her legs wide for him: ready, wanting, needing.
He entered her hard and fast and she felt a delicious shiver course through her entire body like an electrical current. At first she was aware of his injured leg and tried to keep her own frantic movements away from it, fearful of hurting him. But as he continued to plunge into her, she became heedless of anything but the needs of her own body. They moved together, establishing a rhythm, until it was as if they were one creature, totally connected. She felt the sensations that ravaged her body crescendo and her hands grabbed his buttocks, pulling him even deeper into her, her hips grinding with mindless need against his.
And then Jennifer’s world exploded in a fiery display of excruciating pleasure and for a moment she lost touch with the world around her, consumed by the fire within her. She barely heard the sound of Eric’s moan above her own, and as she gradually came back to earth, she felt the liquid heat of his seed spurting inside her.
They lay together in almost perfect stillness for an interminable time, barely breathing, drained both physically and emotionally. Jennifer was only dimly aware of anything other than the comforting warmth of Eric’s body against hers, feeling the rhythmic beat of his heart within his chest and the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders with each breath. She felt as if she was enveloped in a blanket of warmth and security and wanted to let herself be lulled toward sleep.
Then she thought about Tanner or her mother waking up in the morning and coming out to find the two of them entwined together naked on the couch. Reluctantly, she nudged Eric. “I need to get up,” she whispered. “I don’t want to fall asleep here and have Tanner find us like this in the morning.”
Eric propped himself up on his elbows and gazed down at her face. His hair stood up on end from her relentless fingers and his expression was one of satisfied contentment, like a cat that has just had its fill of milk and is now ready to curl up and nap the day away. He reached up with one finger and lazily traced the outline of her lip. Then, with a sigh, he kissed the end of her nose and with a grunt, stood up.
Jennifer sat up and gathered her clothes together. When she had herself in a state of quasi-respectability, she glanced at her watch and groaned when she saw that it was almost three-thirty in the morning. She stood up next to Eric, wrapping her arms around his neck and smiling up at him.
“That was wonderful,” she cooed. “I didn’t think I had it in me.”
Eric gave her a crooked grin. “I assure you, the pleasure was as much mine as yours.” He pulled her toward him, wrapping her in his arms, rocking her gently with his body.
She nestled her head against the solid warmth of his chest, hearing the steady thump of his heart, feeling his breath gently stir the hairs on her head. When he finally pulled away, it left her feeling cold and desolate.
“You best go to bed,” he murmured. “Before I am tempted to try for a second round.”
His words stirred her, and for one fleeting moment she played with the thought of pulling him back down onto the couch. But exhaustion won out and she nodded reluctantly.
“Good night, Jen.”
“Good night.”
A lifetime of unspoken words passed between them as they gazed into one another’s eyes. Jennifer admitted to herself, grudgingly, that she was hopelessly and totally in love with Dr. Eric Singleton. Though the thought was not entirely unpleasant, in view of all that had happened, and was likely to happen, it scared the hell out of her. Lousy timing, she muttered to herself.
Eric bent down and kissed her lightly on the cheek, then abruptly turned away and picked up the sheets to make up the couch for bed.
Feeling happier, but somehow lonelier than she had in years, Jennifer headed down the hallway to bed.