The thought of having a child with Jackson had her stomach churned in waves of nausea. The only thing worst than that was her rapist impregnating her. She sucked in deeply, trying desperately to ignore her sickness. She wiped the tears from her face with her fingertips then asked, "What's her name?"
"Miranda," replied Jackson. She noted the upset in his voice, and realized she just had to ask the name of her own child. "But we've always called her Rannie for short."
Lisa nodded, moving to unblock the door. Jackson swung the door open, revealing a little girl around three years old. Lisa gasped inwardly. She hadn't expected to feel an instant material instinct toward this little girl. She was a spitting image of her and Jackson mixed. Her hair was a wavy mess of rusty brown locks like Lisa's and the shape of her face could be mistaken for her mother at a young age. But her eyes were intensely blue and lips thick like her father. She gazed at them sleepily as she clutched her stuffed lamby.
"I woke up," she murmured, rubbing an arm over her eyes. "I heard you yelling and got scared."
Jackson scooped up the little girl. "Everything is okay, Rannie. Mommy was just having a bad dream."
"Are you okay, Mommy?" Rannie asked innocently, laying her head on Jackson's shoulder.
Lisa smiled watery, reaching out tentatively to stroke her daughter's soft hair. The emotions welling inside her were overwhelming, and she fought to not burst into tears. "I'm okay. I'm sorry we woke you."
"Come on, squirt, I'll tuck you back in bed," Jackson said, rubbing her back in small circles.
"Why can't I stay with you?"
"Because Mommy and Daddy need to talk about something very important."
Rannie sighed and nuzzled comfortingly into the crook of her father's neck. For a moment, Lisa forgot who was in front of her and her heart warmed at the scene. She gave her daughter's hair one last stroke before Jackson slipped out the room.
This was the first time she was alone in their bedroom. Lisa couldn't move, frightened to find more evidence that showed her and Jackson were a happily married couple, but she forced herself to peer around the room. Their bedroom furniture was dark mahogany, a color she would have never picked out if she had a choice. Clothes were neatly hung across a chair's back in the far corner.
Lisa realized for the first time that she was still holding her wedding picture. She glanced at it, but couldn't hold her eyes on it for long. She couldn't – didn't – want to believe that was her in that picture standing so proudly beside the man she hated so much. She wanted to get the photo out of her sight, and went to replace it on the vanity.
Sitting on the vanity though was a framed picture of the family. Lisa froze before setting the wedding picture down, and stared transfixed at the other picture. The first thing she noted was how happy they looked. They were bunched together in a pile, Rannie in front being held around the waist by Jackson; Lisa with her arm thrown around her husband's neck, scrunching their cheeks together. Rannie had been laughing; she could tell by the way the little girl's mouth was open wide with mirth. The picture was the pinnacle of a perfect family, but it made Lisa feel as if she were sinking into a black hole. Nothing Jackson touched was happy or perfect.
Footfalls entered the bedroom and Lisa turned to find Jackson closing the door gingerly. It was a long moment as they gazed at each other without mobility. The corners of Jackson's lips were raised in what could be a smile but not quite.
"Rannie is back asleep," he said, trying to fill in the awkward silence.
Lisa nodded. "Good." She absently fiddled with the hem of her nightshirt. "She's a beautiful little girl."
Jackson's mouth finally melted into a real smile. "She's the best of both of us." Lisa could tell by the spark in his eyes how much he loved their daughter.
The silence fell in the room again, but Lisa quickly filled it. "You said we've been married for almost five years?"
"Five years in August," answered Jackson. He fidgeted with the nap of his neck, acting as if he wanted to come closer to her. "Listen Leese, I need to know what you recall of our past together. Can you tell me what you remember last before waking up here?"
Lisa averted her gaze to the carpeted floor. "I remember coming home to my apartment from my job at the Lux Atlantic."
"That's where you were working when we met," Jackson added offhandedly, but regretted saying it when Lisa flinched openly. "Is that the last thing you remember?"
"Yes." She nodded. "Yes, that's the last thing."
A deep sigh escaped Jackson's throat. He shuffled over to the bed and plopped down. "This is too strange," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "You said I held you hostage on a plane?"
Lisa finally looked at him, but stayed rooted to the spot by the vanity. "You took me hostage, and threatened to kill my father if I didn't change the room of Charles Keefe at the Lux. I stabbed you in the neck with a pen to get away."
Jackson's eyes widened. "Yikes! That must be painful."
"It didn't stop you. You followed me to my father's house and tried to kill me."
"Apparently," Jackson eyed her slyly. "I didn't succeed."
Lisa snorted in what could have been a laugh. "No, you didn't."
"You know, Leese, you don't have to be scared of me," Jackson said, noticing her nervousness and the way she tried not to look at him. "I'm your husband. I'd do anything to protect you. Don't be scared." His voice was smooth and hypnotic, sending chills up Lisa's spine. In a way, she found it comforting and that didn't sit well with her. He patted the spot beside him on the bed. "Come sit by me and we can talk."
"I don't trust you."
"I wasn't asking you to. I just want to talk and figure out what's going on."
Lisa pulled out the vanity chair. "We can talk with me sitting over here." With that, she settled in the chair, crossing her legs. She wasn't about to give into Jackson even if he was being sincere.
Jackson nodded, slightly disappointed. "Is there anything you want to ask me?"
"How did we meet?" Lisa asked without hesitation.
A small smile graced his lips, and Lisa could see the memories flashing through Jackson's mind. "We met at the Dallas airport six years ago…"