DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Pretender, but I'm hoping TNT won't sue me for
theft as the only profit I get out of playing with their characters is my
own enjoyment.
The man wiping up the long counter was close to, if not over sixty. His hair and well trimmed beard were both a silvery white only a little brighter than his immaculate apron, under which was a colorful flannel shirt and a well-worn pair of jeans. The friendly name- tag on his apron said "Bill", but no one in the diner except Jarod actually needed the badge to know him. There was a waitress in a yellow uniform working, but she was a blonde teenager, obviously just a weekend worker.
"Excuse me, Bill," Jarod asked, causing the man to look up from his wiping.
"Just plop yourself down anywhere and Cheri will see to ya'," the man said, smiling kindly.
"Actually, my name is Jarod, and I was kind of hoping to sit in Nell's section, unless she isn't working today," he asked politely.
"Nell comes on in about half an hour for the lunch shift," Bill said, looking curiously at the younger man. "In all fairness, though, I should warn you. She may be the prettiest thing in ten states, but she doesn't date. I'm not being an overprotective father type, either, ask anyone in town."
"Oh, I'm not trying to, um," Jarod stumbled a bit, wondering how to deal with such an abrupt warning and assumption. "I came in last night and met her, I'm only in town for a few days and she suggested I come back and talk to her again before I leave."
Bill's expression changed and his eyes grew wide for a brief moment. "Well, I guess I'll run upstairs and get her for you," he said with a sly smile. Jarod was still uncomfortable with the presumption, but at least he'd get to talk with the woman he hoped was Parker.
Nell was humming to herself as she smoothed her lavender sundress and carefully applied a little more makeup than she would normally wear. In the doorway to her room, Bill cleared his throat.
"What are you doing up here," she scolded playfully. "I'll be down when I'm supposed to!"
"Does your choice not to wear the uniform have anything to do with the young man downstairs who just asked about you," he inquired in the same playful vein.
"I," she stuttered, "Both of my sets could stand to be a little cleaner, and you said the uniforms were optional. You were against them in the first place. What young man?"
"I don't know," Billy said teasingly, "his name was James or Jeremy, maybe Jarod, and he said he met you last night and asked to sit in your section."
Bill's teasing was rewarded with a dreamy smile before Nell realized her expression and abruptly wiped it off her face. "Well, I did meet him, but I was hoping he'd come by closer to the end of my shift," she said, unable to exile the grin wholly from her face.
"What shift," Bill asked with a broad wink.
"The one I'm working in half an hour," Nell said, shaking herself and tying her apron deftly around her waist.
"Oh, that, I meant to tell you that Cheri wanted more hours so I told her you could use a break, you're only working the later half of your shift today," Bill said, apologetically. Nell's eyes narrowed accusingly.
"And Cheri desired this before or after you met Jarod? And if I were to go downstairs and speak with Cheri about this desire, would she have any knowledge of it?"
"Come on now," Bill said, trying to frown, "He'll only be in town a few days, if you're going to snag him, now is the time!"
"What?!" Nell blushed furiously. This was not the way Billy usually spoke.
"Joking aside, Nell," Billy said, taking her hand in both of his, "You do need to get out. It isn't right for a pretty young woman like you to spend every free minute working in the restaurant, not that I don't appreciate the constant help. All work and no play, you know."
"You know I can't remember ever being on a date. Don't you think it will be a little bit awkward if I go down there before he's even ordered and suggest we blow this Popsicle stand?"
"I'll take care of it," Billy said compassionately, "you just finish getting dolled up."
Billy then returned to the diner downstairs while Nell finished carefully brushing her hair.
"Jarod," Bill called, causing the man to look up from his coffee and smile. Bill approached him from the other side of the counter and started putting food into a wicker basket. "I'm about to do an incredible favor for you," the man announced without preamble.
"You are," Jarod asked quizzically.
"I am," Bill said, closing the basket. "Take this, and go wait outside. Your lunch date will join you momentarily."
"My lunch date," Jarod inquired, a smile playing about his lips.
"The prettiest girl in ten states," Bill confirmed, "she just doesn't know she's going out with you yet."
"I guess that is an incredible favor," Jarod confirmed, not bothering to hide his grin.
"Scoot," Bill instructed, shoving the basket into his hands.
Jarod did not need to wait very long before Parker exited the diner in the simplest and most beautiful dress he'd ever seen her wear. She looked rather disoriented and confused.
"Hello, Jarod," she said slowly, "Do you know why Billy stole my apron and pushed me out here?"
"I believe that would be because you are my lunch date," Jarod said, laughing.
"Oh," Parker replied, nodding sagely as a panicked expression slowly took control of her features. "Your lunch date. That would explain why you have Billy's picnic basket."
Jarod read the expression easily, and his smile vanished. "If you're not interested you can go back inside," he offered, carefully hiding his own disappointment.
"That's alright," she replied, flashing a smile. "I know the perfect spot for a picnic, and afterward, I know the perfect revenge for meddling old bosses." Jarod chuckled appreciatively and followed her down the street. "So, Jarod, what do you do for a living?"
"You can't tell," he asked playfully.
"Hmm," she said, pretending to seriously consider the matter. "Are you a truck driver?"
"I actually do know how to drive a big rig, but no, I'm not a truck driver."
"Are you a conductor for the Philharmonic?"
"How ever did you guess," he replied playfully. "What would you want someone you just met to be?" Nell was sure he couldn't get any more flirtatious, but she found herself not minding in the least.
"Why don't you tell me what you are, so I know the right answer," she flirted back shamelessly.
"No, I'm serious," he said, with a smile that said he was anything but. "If someone moved next door to you tomorrow, what profession would you want them to be in?"
She thought about it for a minute and finally said, "Pediatrician. They would know CPR, be good with kids, and generally be a good person to have around."
"Well," Jarod said, "I know CPR, I like children, and I was a doctor at Queen of Angels hospital in New York City for a while, so do I count?"
She looked at him in surprise, then smiled. "Somehow, I don't think you are lying," she said.
"I'm not," he replied, his smile not fading.
"But, I don't think you are telling the complete truth." Before he could protest, she continued, "This is it! The perfect picnic spot!" She broke away from the sidewalk and, trusting he'd follow her, plopped down on the grass facing the sparkling lake.
"You're right," he said, sitting next to her and opening the basket, "this is a beautiful spot."
"Mmhm," she agreed. "Do you want egg salad or turkey and cheese?" Nell pulled out the various sandwiches as she spoke and popped open the lemon Snapple she claimed immediately.
"Whichever you don't want is fine," Jarod said content with the Raspberry Iced Tea. This arrangement left him with the egg salad, but he honestly didn't mind. He pulled out some trail mix and opened a Tupperware container of fruit to pick at in between bites of sandwich.
"Careful with the trail mix," Nell said absently, "Billy likes to put shelled pistachios in there."
A triumphant smile crossed Jarod's lips, but he managed not to ask how she knew of his allergy. If she really didn't remember him, he didn't want to scare her. If she did remember him, she wouldn't have made such an obvious slip.
"So," Jarod inquired, "Do you have any memories at all of your past?"
She stared deeply into his eyes as though trying to discern his motivation for asking. Katia was right; Nell apparently didn't like this topic. Somehow, she felt like answering the question. "I do have one," she admitted almost shyly. "When I woke up it was the only thing I could recall, but it is too crazy to be a real memory, I think it might be a dream."
"What is it," he encouraged curiously.
"There is a boy," she began slowly, "I'm being introduced to him by a man with an accent, but there's a wall between us. We're being introduced through a window, and we both touch the glass. There's something important about meeting the boy." Nell laughed self consciously. "I'm sorry; I promise I'm really not as crazy as that makes me sound."
"I don't think it sounds crazy at all," Jarod said, turning so she wouldn't see the tear in his eye. "Do you remember anything about the boy, what his name was, perhaps?"
"Jarod," she said, wide eyed. "Are you that Jarod? Did you know me before this?"
"Yes," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "They told me you were dead."
She stood abruptly. "I have to go now. Please don't try to talk to me again. I have a different life now."
"Parker," he exclaimed, leaping to his feet and grabbing her arm before she could leave. "What's wrong?"
She turned to face him, and he knew she was afraid, but it made no sense that she should be afraid of him.
"Talk to me, Parker," he pleaded, a tear falling down his cheek although he was feeling far too many emotions to put a label on it. "I lost you. For three months I've meandered through the country half alive, unable to pretend; hardly able to think. It only got better when I came to this town, as though proximity to you could alleviate the pain even if I didn't know the pain was pointless. Now, you won't even explain why you have to stay lost when you're standing here in the sunshine with me." His voice was angry, husky and tear-laden all at once.
"I," she looked into his eyes and she could not look away. "I can't remember. He'll kill me if I remember."
"Lyle," Jarod half asked half stated.
"I don't know his name. He only told me he was my brother," she said, her voice trembling and a tear slipping from the fountain beneath her eye.
"His name is Lyle. He can be pretty scary," Jarod said, trying to joke, but feeling as though he was instructing a child. "I can protect you from him. I promise I won't fail you a second time."
"A second time," Parker asked, searching his eyes which were now filled with their own tears before he suddenly grabbed her and pulled her into a bone crushing embrace.
"Just before you died, Angelo sent me word that you had a contract out on your life, but," he paused, not noticing that she had relaxed completely in his arms, "You were gone before I could save you. You were dead. I saw your body." She could feel tears falling on top of her head. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you Miss Parker, but I'll never fail you again."
Nell rubbed Jarod's back soothingly. "Shush, it's okay; I'm not dead, see? I'm right here," she murmured gently.
Abruptly, he pulled away from the embrace, wiping his eyes quickly on his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Nell, I should keep my emotions on a tighter leash."
"That's all right," Nell said, smiling kindly. "With guilt like that, I'm impressed you didn't break down the moment you saw me. I know I don't have any idea what the circumstances were, but I forgive you for not saving her."
Jarod looked away for a long moment before a whispered "Thank you" reached Nell's ear. When he finally looked back, his expression was carefully unreadable. "Will you let me try to jog your memory," he asked his voice as expressionless as his face.
"Yes," she replied, although there was fear in her eyes. Nell knew that Jarod needed to do this, and it probably had less to do with needing this Miss Parker back in his life than with assuaging his guilt over her death. All she had to do was let him try to make her remember, not remember, and then he would feel better and she wouldn't need to worry about her brother killing her permanently.
"Then let's pack up this picnic and you can come to my hotel, okay?" Jarod didn't wait for an answer as he began putting empty containers and garbage back into the basket.
"Right," Nell agreed when her offer to carry the basket was turned down. Together they walked back to the hotel Jarod was staying in. The hotel room was clean but impersonal, holding nothing more than a double bed, a television set and a desk. Jarod opened one of the drawers beneath the TV and pulled out a compact silver suitcase. He set it on the bed and opened it revealing what looked almost like a strange laptop. He sat on the bed and Nell bounced beside him, letting her legs hang off the edge opposite his making a parallel tableau that neither stopped to think about.
"This is what you remember," Jarod said, flipping through a series of what looked like miniature CDs until he found one and inserted it into the player. He was right. As she watched Sydney introduce the two children, every word and feeling came flooding back to her perfectly. For a moment, she was there again, and she remembered another snippet.
"We've kissed," she half stated, half asked after Jarod took the DSA out of the player. His mouth went dry as he found that DSA and inserted it wordlessly. Again, it was almost as if she was reliving the memory while watching it, she felt all of the same confused emotions that the kiss inspired. She saw flashes of candied hearts and bunny rabbits and she knew that the kiss could not have been an isolated incident.
When he removed the DSA from the player she patiently and wordlessly watched him until his eyes met hers. Then, without thinking, she leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips. His mouth pressed against hers for a minute, but only briefly before he pulled away suddenly.
"What," he managed to stutter looking more frightened than anyone Nell had ever seen before.
"Woops," Nell said contritely, "That was taboo, wasn't it." Jarod was now looking at the blank DSA player in an attempt to calm down.
"When you get your memory back, you'll wish you hadn't done that," he explained his voice strangely calm.
"I'm sorry," Nell took his hand comfortingly, "Am I married or something?"
Jarod laughed loudly and turned back to face her. "No," he said, "You're not married."
"Then why would I regret kissing you," she inquired innocently.
Jarod recognized the ploy for what it was, but he still choked. He took the book off of his night stand and handed it to her wordlessly.
"The Saddest Little Valentine," she read aloud inquisitively. "Did you draw this from memory," she flirted, recognizing Jarod as the author.
"No," he replied, "I wrote this for you to try to make you realize something was wrong a long time ago, I think it will help you remember that."
"Well did I model for it then," she asked, still teasing.
"I have a good imagination," Jarod replied finally, with a half smile. "Come on, I'll walk you back to the diner. I wouldn't want you to be late for work when I'm the reason you were tricked into taking time off."
"I'm sorry this is so hard on you," Parker replied, following him out of the hotel room. There was really no response he could make to that.
He dropped her off at the diner, and went back to his hotel room. He did little more than stare at the ceiling there, contemplating Parker's return from the grave. He wanted to know why Lyle hadn't just killed her outright. He wanted to know when she would get her memory back. Most of all, however, he desperately wanted to know what she would think when she did get her memory back. His heart was very openly vulnerable to her, and he had to wait far longer for an answer than men usually did. "I love you, too" or "I'm sorry" was supposed to come within minutes, and he would have to wait days.
Nell worked her shift at the restaurant with a slightly dimmer smile than usual. Only Billy actually suspected something was troubling her, few others even noticed she was distracted. "Going to tell me what the problem is," Billy asked when they were alone and closing the diner.
"He knew me from before," she whispered.
"How," Billy inquired, not needing to ask who.
"I don't know, but since we were children. There had to be something incredibly awkward about our relationship before my 'death' -he was told I was dead by the way-because he felt that he couldn't tell me anything about it until my memory came back of its own accord."
"Have you remembered anything more," Billy asked, putting a compassionate hand on her shoulder.
"Just a few snapshot memories like the first, all dealing with him. Just enough to make me realize that our childhood was far from normal. He has recordings of his childhood, not baby-tapes; it is as if his life was monitored. I'd bring up a memory, and he'd flip through disks until he found it."
"I still don't think you should keep yourself from remembering. So there might be a grain of truth in what your 'brother' told you, so what," Billy sighed as the daughter he'd never raised pulled away from him.
"Jarod says his name is Lyle. If you'll excuse me, I have a book to read." She held it aloft so Bill could clearly see whose picture graced the cover.
"I'll let you get to it then," he said, offering to finish closing up.
She opened the novel with trepidation bordering on terror, and her feelings were justified as she read. The words seemed strangely familiar, as though she'd already read the story a thousand times, and her memories began to surface. Parker recalled losing her mother. The suicide in the elevator, discovering that it was not suicide, discovering that it had been a fake death in the first place, digging up her mother's grave and the existence of her baby brother, Ethan, all became pictures that surfaced in her mind as she paged through the story detailing the pain of a lost family member.
Miss Parker recognized that her emotions had changed, grown, from the time Jarod first gave her this book, and she wondered how much of it was because of Jarod.
"All of it, sweetie, although you'd never admit it."
Who said that?
"It's me, your momma."
Miss Parker remembered quite clearly that her mother was dead, even if her grave was empty. Even if she wasn't dead, there was no one else in the room with her. If this was a joke, or a trick of Jarod's, she would not be pleased.
"I am dead, and this isn't a trick."
Twenty minutes later, Jarod opened his hotel-room door to a badly frightened Parker who immediately collapsed into his arms. "Was I crazy," she asked, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist.
"You had rather unhealthy emotional habits, but you weren't crazy," Jarod tried to joke, although he sensed that it was probably not the proper time to do so.
"I finished your book, it did jog memories," Parker said, pulling away from him to look into his eyes. "Then, the voice of my dead mother tried to start a conversation with me."
Jarod smiled broadly. "That is your inner sense. Our brother, Ethan, has it too. I don't understand it, but you're not crazy. Your mother really does talk to you in a voice only you can hear."
"Are you sure you aren't crazy," Parker asked, but already she was remembering the discovery of her inner sense.
"I grew up in the Centre. For all I know I'm completely schizophrenic and this whole thing is just an episode in my head. To be honest, you being alive is a little convenient." Jarod smiled and gestured for her to enter the hotel room so that they could sit down while they spoke.
Parker laughed lightly. "I've remembered enough about the Centre now to know that using Billy as a sounding board to talk about my memories would be a bad idea."
"Probably," Jarod agreed. "You're always welcome to talk to me, though."
"If you don't mind, I do have a couple of questions," Parker said, hedging around the question she really wanted to ask.
"I'm all ears," he replied with a warm smile.
"Why did I hate you so much," she asked bluntly.
Jarod was floored, so he decided to answer honestly. "I don't know. I spent five years running from you trying to figure out what I did wrong. I never managed to."
"There had to have been a reason," Parker insisted, "if I could just remember what the reason was, I think the rest of my memories would come back. I can only remember the half of my life that you gave me, and I know there must have been another half to make you fear me. It's frustrating."
"Calm down," Jarod said, patting her hand reassuringly. "You can't expect to get your memory back fully in one day. You have made a lot of progress, especially since your Inner Sense seems to have returned. Go home, get some rest, and your memory will return in time. Your mother will help you."
"I don't want to remember," Nell said suddenly.
"I told you I'd protect you," Jarod said, standing and moving closer to her.
"It isn't that," she replied, standing as well and looking deeply into his chocolate pools. "I don't want to hate you. I," she paused, looking incredibly uncertain.
"Please don't say it," he begged, looking away. "I'll forget that you aren't yourself."
"How am I not myself," she wanted to ask. "I am myself," she said quietly. "I'll go home now, if you want me to, but I refuse to believe that I ever truly hated you."
"You'll remember soon enough," he promised, "and then you'll know, one way or the other."
"I guess so," Parker said, moving past him to the door. "Good night, Jarod, I'm sorry I bothered you."
"Hey," Jarod said, calling her eyes back to his. "You never bother me. I just can't," he broke off and looked away. Her visage softened at the sight.
"I understand," she said softly. "I know this is hard for you, it's just hard for me too. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"Goodnight," he called after her, just as the door shut at her back.
"I love you," she whispered, not turning to face the closed door.
The man wiping up the long counter was close to, if not over sixty. His hair and well trimmed beard were both a silvery white only a little brighter than his immaculate apron, under which was a colorful flannel shirt and a well-worn pair of jeans. The friendly name- tag on his apron said "Bill", but no one in the diner except Jarod actually needed the badge to know him. There was a waitress in a yellow uniform working, but she was a blonde teenager, obviously just a weekend worker.
"Excuse me, Bill," Jarod asked, causing the man to look up from his wiping.
"Just plop yourself down anywhere and Cheri will see to ya'," the man said, smiling kindly.
"Actually, my name is Jarod, and I was kind of hoping to sit in Nell's section, unless she isn't working today," he asked politely.
"Nell comes on in about half an hour for the lunch shift," Bill said, looking curiously at the younger man. "In all fairness, though, I should warn you. She may be the prettiest thing in ten states, but she doesn't date. I'm not being an overprotective father type, either, ask anyone in town."
"Oh, I'm not trying to, um," Jarod stumbled a bit, wondering how to deal with such an abrupt warning and assumption. "I came in last night and met her, I'm only in town for a few days and she suggested I come back and talk to her again before I leave."
Bill's expression changed and his eyes grew wide for a brief moment. "Well, I guess I'll run upstairs and get her for you," he said with a sly smile. Jarod was still uncomfortable with the presumption, but at least he'd get to talk with the woman he hoped was Parker.
Nell was humming to herself as she smoothed her lavender sundress and carefully applied a little more makeup than she would normally wear. In the doorway to her room, Bill cleared his throat.
"What are you doing up here," she scolded playfully. "I'll be down when I'm supposed to!"
"Does your choice not to wear the uniform have anything to do with the young man downstairs who just asked about you," he inquired in the same playful vein.
"I," she stuttered, "Both of my sets could stand to be a little cleaner, and you said the uniforms were optional. You were against them in the first place. What young man?"
"I don't know," Billy said teasingly, "his name was James or Jeremy, maybe Jarod, and he said he met you last night and asked to sit in your section."
Bill's teasing was rewarded with a dreamy smile before Nell realized her expression and abruptly wiped it off her face. "Well, I did meet him, but I was hoping he'd come by closer to the end of my shift," she said, unable to exile the grin wholly from her face.
"What shift," Bill asked with a broad wink.
"The one I'm working in half an hour," Nell said, shaking herself and tying her apron deftly around her waist.
"Oh, that, I meant to tell you that Cheri wanted more hours so I told her you could use a break, you're only working the later half of your shift today," Bill said, apologetically. Nell's eyes narrowed accusingly.
"And Cheri desired this before or after you met Jarod? And if I were to go downstairs and speak with Cheri about this desire, would she have any knowledge of it?"
"Come on now," Bill said, trying to frown, "He'll only be in town a few days, if you're going to snag him, now is the time!"
"What?!" Nell blushed furiously. This was not the way Billy usually spoke.
"Joking aside, Nell," Billy said, taking her hand in both of his, "You do need to get out. It isn't right for a pretty young woman like you to spend every free minute working in the restaurant, not that I don't appreciate the constant help. All work and no play, you know."
"You know I can't remember ever being on a date. Don't you think it will be a little bit awkward if I go down there before he's even ordered and suggest we blow this Popsicle stand?"
"I'll take care of it," Billy said compassionately, "you just finish getting dolled up."
Billy then returned to the diner downstairs while Nell finished carefully brushing her hair.
"Jarod," Bill called, causing the man to look up from his coffee and smile. Bill approached him from the other side of the counter and started putting food into a wicker basket. "I'm about to do an incredible favor for you," the man announced without preamble.
"You are," Jarod asked quizzically.
"I am," Bill said, closing the basket. "Take this, and go wait outside. Your lunch date will join you momentarily."
"My lunch date," Jarod inquired, a smile playing about his lips.
"The prettiest girl in ten states," Bill confirmed, "she just doesn't know she's going out with you yet."
"I guess that is an incredible favor," Jarod confirmed, not bothering to hide his grin.
"Scoot," Bill instructed, shoving the basket into his hands.
Jarod did not need to wait very long before Parker exited the diner in the simplest and most beautiful dress he'd ever seen her wear. She looked rather disoriented and confused.
"Hello, Jarod," she said slowly, "Do you know why Billy stole my apron and pushed me out here?"
"I believe that would be because you are my lunch date," Jarod said, laughing.
"Oh," Parker replied, nodding sagely as a panicked expression slowly took control of her features. "Your lunch date. That would explain why you have Billy's picnic basket."
Jarod read the expression easily, and his smile vanished. "If you're not interested you can go back inside," he offered, carefully hiding his own disappointment.
"That's alright," she replied, flashing a smile. "I know the perfect spot for a picnic, and afterward, I know the perfect revenge for meddling old bosses." Jarod chuckled appreciatively and followed her down the street. "So, Jarod, what do you do for a living?"
"You can't tell," he asked playfully.
"Hmm," she said, pretending to seriously consider the matter. "Are you a truck driver?"
"I actually do know how to drive a big rig, but no, I'm not a truck driver."
"Are you a conductor for the Philharmonic?"
"How ever did you guess," he replied playfully. "What would you want someone you just met to be?" Nell was sure he couldn't get any more flirtatious, but she found herself not minding in the least.
"Why don't you tell me what you are, so I know the right answer," she flirted back shamelessly.
"No, I'm serious," he said, with a smile that said he was anything but. "If someone moved next door to you tomorrow, what profession would you want them to be in?"
She thought about it for a minute and finally said, "Pediatrician. They would know CPR, be good with kids, and generally be a good person to have around."
"Well," Jarod said, "I know CPR, I like children, and I was a doctor at Queen of Angels hospital in New York City for a while, so do I count?"
She looked at him in surprise, then smiled. "Somehow, I don't think you are lying," she said.
"I'm not," he replied, his smile not fading.
"But, I don't think you are telling the complete truth." Before he could protest, she continued, "This is it! The perfect picnic spot!" She broke away from the sidewalk and, trusting he'd follow her, plopped down on the grass facing the sparkling lake.
"You're right," he said, sitting next to her and opening the basket, "this is a beautiful spot."
"Mmhm," she agreed. "Do you want egg salad or turkey and cheese?" Nell pulled out the various sandwiches as she spoke and popped open the lemon Snapple she claimed immediately.
"Whichever you don't want is fine," Jarod said content with the Raspberry Iced Tea. This arrangement left him with the egg salad, but he honestly didn't mind. He pulled out some trail mix and opened a Tupperware container of fruit to pick at in between bites of sandwich.
"Careful with the trail mix," Nell said absently, "Billy likes to put shelled pistachios in there."
A triumphant smile crossed Jarod's lips, but he managed not to ask how she knew of his allergy. If she really didn't remember him, he didn't want to scare her. If she did remember him, she wouldn't have made such an obvious slip.
"So," Jarod inquired, "Do you have any memories at all of your past?"
She stared deeply into his eyes as though trying to discern his motivation for asking. Katia was right; Nell apparently didn't like this topic. Somehow, she felt like answering the question. "I do have one," she admitted almost shyly. "When I woke up it was the only thing I could recall, but it is too crazy to be a real memory, I think it might be a dream."
"What is it," he encouraged curiously.
"There is a boy," she began slowly, "I'm being introduced to him by a man with an accent, but there's a wall between us. We're being introduced through a window, and we both touch the glass. There's something important about meeting the boy." Nell laughed self consciously. "I'm sorry; I promise I'm really not as crazy as that makes me sound."
"I don't think it sounds crazy at all," Jarod said, turning so she wouldn't see the tear in his eye. "Do you remember anything about the boy, what his name was, perhaps?"
"Jarod," she said, wide eyed. "Are you that Jarod? Did you know me before this?"
"Yes," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "They told me you were dead."
She stood abruptly. "I have to go now. Please don't try to talk to me again. I have a different life now."
"Parker," he exclaimed, leaping to his feet and grabbing her arm before she could leave. "What's wrong?"
She turned to face him, and he knew she was afraid, but it made no sense that she should be afraid of him.
"Talk to me, Parker," he pleaded, a tear falling down his cheek although he was feeling far too many emotions to put a label on it. "I lost you. For three months I've meandered through the country half alive, unable to pretend; hardly able to think. It only got better when I came to this town, as though proximity to you could alleviate the pain even if I didn't know the pain was pointless. Now, you won't even explain why you have to stay lost when you're standing here in the sunshine with me." His voice was angry, husky and tear-laden all at once.
"I," she looked into his eyes and she could not look away. "I can't remember. He'll kill me if I remember."
"Lyle," Jarod half asked half stated.
"I don't know his name. He only told me he was my brother," she said, her voice trembling and a tear slipping from the fountain beneath her eye.
"His name is Lyle. He can be pretty scary," Jarod said, trying to joke, but feeling as though he was instructing a child. "I can protect you from him. I promise I won't fail you a second time."
"A second time," Parker asked, searching his eyes which were now filled with their own tears before he suddenly grabbed her and pulled her into a bone crushing embrace.
"Just before you died, Angelo sent me word that you had a contract out on your life, but," he paused, not noticing that she had relaxed completely in his arms, "You were gone before I could save you. You were dead. I saw your body." She could feel tears falling on top of her head. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you Miss Parker, but I'll never fail you again."
Nell rubbed Jarod's back soothingly. "Shush, it's okay; I'm not dead, see? I'm right here," she murmured gently.
Abruptly, he pulled away from the embrace, wiping his eyes quickly on his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Nell, I should keep my emotions on a tighter leash."
"That's all right," Nell said, smiling kindly. "With guilt like that, I'm impressed you didn't break down the moment you saw me. I know I don't have any idea what the circumstances were, but I forgive you for not saving her."
Jarod looked away for a long moment before a whispered "Thank you" reached Nell's ear. When he finally looked back, his expression was carefully unreadable. "Will you let me try to jog your memory," he asked his voice as expressionless as his face.
"Yes," she replied, although there was fear in her eyes. Nell knew that Jarod needed to do this, and it probably had less to do with needing this Miss Parker back in his life than with assuaging his guilt over her death. All she had to do was let him try to make her remember, not remember, and then he would feel better and she wouldn't need to worry about her brother killing her permanently.
"Then let's pack up this picnic and you can come to my hotel, okay?" Jarod didn't wait for an answer as he began putting empty containers and garbage back into the basket.
"Right," Nell agreed when her offer to carry the basket was turned down. Together they walked back to the hotel Jarod was staying in. The hotel room was clean but impersonal, holding nothing more than a double bed, a television set and a desk. Jarod opened one of the drawers beneath the TV and pulled out a compact silver suitcase. He set it on the bed and opened it revealing what looked almost like a strange laptop. He sat on the bed and Nell bounced beside him, letting her legs hang off the edge opposite his making a parallel tableau that neither stopped to think about.
"This is what you remember," Jarod said, flipping through a series of what looked like miniature CDs until he found one and inserted it into the player. He was right. As she watched Sydney introduce the two children, every word and feeling came flooding back to her perfectly. For a moment, she was there again, and she remembered another snippet.
"We've kissed," she half stated, half asked after Jarod took the DSA out of the player. His mouth went dry as he found that DSA and inserted it wordlessly. Again, it was almost as if she was reliving the memory while watching it, she felt all of the same confused emotions that the kiss inspired. She saw flashes of candied hearts and bunny rabbits and she knew that the kiss could not have been an isolated incident.
When he removed the DSA from the player she patiently and wordlessly watched him until his eyes met hers. Then, without thinking, she leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips. His mouth pressed against hers for a minute, but only briefly before he pulled away suddenly.
"What," he managed to stutter looking more frightened than anyone Nell had ever seen before.
"Woops," Nell said contritely, "That was taboo, wasn't it." Jarod was now looking at the blank DSA player in an attempt to calm down.
"When you get your memory back, you'll wish you hadn't done that," he explained his voice strangely calm.
"I'm sorry," Nell took his hand comfortingly, "Am I married or something?"
Jarod laughed loudly and turned back to face her. "No," he said, "You're not married."
"Then why would I regret kissing you," she inquired innocently.
Jarod recognized the ploy for what it was, but he still choked. He took the book off of his night stand and handed it to her wordlessly.
"The Saddest Little Valentine," she read aloud inquisitively. "Did you draw this from memory," she flirted, recognizing Jarod as the author.
"No," he replied, "I wrote this for you to try to make you realize something was wrong a long time ago, I think it will help you remember that."
"Well did I model for it then," she asked, still teasing.
"I have a good imagination," Jarod replied finally, with a half smile. "Come on, I'll walk you back to the diner. I wouldn't want you to be late for work when I'm the reason you were tricked into taking time off."
"I'm sorry this is so hard on you," Parker replied, following him out of the hotel room. There was really no response he could make to that.
He dropped her off at the diner, and went back to his hotel room. He did little more than stare at the ceiling there, contemplating Parker's return from the grave. He wanted to know why Lyle hadn't just killed her outright. He wanted to know when she would get her memory back. Most of all, however, he desperately wanted to know what she would think when she did get her memory back. His heart was very openly vulnerable to her, and he had to wait far longer for an answer than men usually did. "I love you, too" or "I'm sorry" was supposed to come within minutes, and he would have to wait days.
Nell worked her shift at the restaurant with a slightly dimmer smile than usual. Only Billy actually suspected something was troubling her, few others even noticed she was distracted. "Going to tell me what the problem is," Billy asked when they were alone and closing the diner.
"He knew me from before," she whispered.
"How," Billy inquired, not needing to ask who.
"I don't know, but since we were children. There had to be something incredibly awkward about our relationship before my 'death' -he was told I was dead by the way-because he felt that he couldn't tell me anything about it until my memory came back of its own accord."
"Have you remembered anything more," Billy asked, putting a compassionate hand on her shoulder.
"Just a few snapshot memories like the first, all dealing with him. Just enough to make me realize that our childhood was far from normal. He has recordings of his childhood, not baby-tapes; it is as if his life was monitored. I'd bring up a memory, and he'd flip through disks until he found it."
"I still don't think you should keep yourself from remembering. So there might be a grain of truth in what your 'brother' told you, so what," Billy sighed as the daughter he'd never raised pulled away from him.
"Jarod says his name is Lyle. If you'll excuse me, I have a book to read." She held it aloft so Bill could clearly see whose picture graced the cover.
"I'll let you get to it then," he said, offering to finish closing up.
She opened the novel with trepidation bordering on terror, and her feelings were justified as she read. The words seemed strangely familiar, as though she'd already read the story a thousand times, and her memories began to surface. Parker recalled losing her mother. The suicide in the elevator, discovering that it was not suicide, discovering that it had been a fake death in the first place, digging up her mother's grave and the existence of her baby brother, Ethan, all became pictures that surfaced in her mind as she paged through the story detailing the pain of a lost family member.
Miss Parker recognized that her emotions had changed, grown, from the time Jarod first gave her this book, and she wondered how much of it was because of Jarod.
"All of it, sweetie, although you'd never admit it."
Who said that?
"It's me, your momma."
Miss Parker remembered quite clearly that her mother was dead, even if her grave was empty. Even if she wasn't dead, there was no one else in the room with her. If this was a joke, or a trick of Jarod's, she would not be pleased.
"I am dead, and this isn't a trick."
Twenty minutes later, Jarod opened his hotel-room door to a badly frightened Parker who immediately collapsed into his arms. "Was I crazy," she asked, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist.
"You had rather unhealthy emotional habits, but you weren't crazy," Jarod tried to joke, although he sensed that it was probably not the proper time to do so.
"I finished your book, it did jog memories," Parker said, pulling away from him to look into his eyes. "Then, the voice of my dead mother tried to start a conversation with me."
Jarod smiled broadly. "That is your inner sense. Our brother, Ethan, has it too. I don't understand it, but you're not crazy. Your mother really does talk to you in a voice only you can hear."
"Are you sure you aren't crazy," Parker asked, but already she was remembering the discovery of her inner sense.
"I grew up in the Centre. For all I know I'm completely schizophrenic and this whole thing is just an episode in my head. To be honest, you being alive is a little convenient." Jarod smiled and gestured for her to enter the hotel room so that they could sit down while they spoke.
Parker laughed lightly. "I've remembered enough about the Centre now to know that using Billy as a sounding board to talk about my memories would be a bad idea."
"Probably," Jarod agreed. "You're always welcome to talk to me, though."
"If you don't mind, I do have a couple of questions," Parker said, hedging around the question she really wanted to ask.
"I'm all ears," he replied with a warm smile.
"Why did I hate you so much," she asked bluntly.
Jarod was floored, so he decided to answer honestly. "I don't know. I spent five years running from you trying to figure out what I did wrong. I never managed to."
"There had to have been a reason," Parker insisted, "if I could just remember what the reason was, I think the rest of my memories would come back. I can only remember the half of my life that you gave me, and I know there must have been another half to make you fear me. It's frustrating."
"Calm down," Jarod said, patting her hand reassuringly. "You can't expect to get your memory back fully in one day. You have made a lot of progress, especially since your Inner Sense seems to have returned. Go home, get some rest, and your memory will return in time. Your mother will help you."
"I don't want to remember," Nell said suddenly.
"I told you I'd protect you," Jarod said, standing and moving closer to her.
"It isn't that," she replied, standing as well and looking deeply into his chocolate pools. "I don't want to hate you. I," she paused, looking incredibly uncertain.
"Please don't say it," he begged, looking away. "I'll forget that you aren't yourself."
"How am I not myself," she wanted to ask. "I am myself," she said quietly. "I'll go home now, if you want me to, but I refuse to believe that I ever truly hated you."
"You'll remember soon enough," he promised, "and then you'll know, one way or the other."
"I guess so," Parker said, moving past him to the door. "Good night, Jarod, I'm sorry I bothered you."
"Hey," Jarod said, calling her eyes back to his. "You never bother me. I just can't," he broke off and looked away. Her visage softened at the sight.
"I understand," she said softly. "I know this is hard for you, it's just hard for me too. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"Goodnight," he called after her, just as the door shut at her back.
"I love you," she whispered, not turning to face the closed door.
