Her eyelids slipped leisurely letting her perceive the fuzzy, hazy and blurred surrounding. As she tried to focus a white cold ceiling appeared above. Jane Porter Clayton blinked several times. Where was she? After a brief ocular search she realized that it was her old bedroom. How was it possible? She had left her old rented apartment when she got married. It was illogic, her old stuff were there.
'Am I dreaming or sank into a Twilight zone TV movie?' both options were irrational and not pleasant at all.
The morning sun, after a brief debate, could infiltrate through the thin curtains of the windows bathing the blanket covering her legs.
Jane was thirsty. Stretching her arm she tried to grab the glass of water on the night table. It felt rigid, numb. Then she noticed the mark of an intravenous needle on it. What had happened to her? As she drank the water eagerly her eyes slipped down. She chocked freaking out. A hospital robe was all she wore!
Carefully she placed the glass on the night table once again. She removed the robe discovering the faded bruise on her belly, but what shocked her most it was realize that her pubic hair was shaven.
As comic-book's images the last events returned to her mind: she had opened her car door, someone had held her arm preventing her to move while other man had confused her abdomen with a punching bag. Suddenly John's face broke through, then everything turned hazy, confused. The ambulance, the doctors, needles. She was sure of having warned them about her pregnancy.
'The baby!'
She couldn't understand why this empty feeling assaulted her. Intuitively Jane enfolded her belly, "My baby!" The emptiness of her womb twisted her heart. "Where is my babe?" But she knew the answer. It was simple calculation and the sum gave negative result.
Bitter tears gathered in her eyes. Life couldn't be as macabre and evil as to snatch the last bond she had with the man she was still in love.
Covering her face with both hands she began to cry. Everything was lost.
As the tears slid through her face two powerful arms surrounded her waist and daintily leaned her head over his warm and welcoming chest. With endless tenderness his hand caressed the weeping auburn mane. She closed her eyes and locked her mind. She needed to be exactly where she was. If, somehow, this embrace vanished losing that sensation of well-being and protection she might go crazy.
"Everything is gonna be alright." Jane heard Tarzan's husky voice whispering. She reacted hugging him tightly. If it was a dream she refused to wake up.
To John Clayton Jr. it was just an unbelievable miracle. It was hard to believe that he could be able to have her into his arms again. But here they were, together. He feared to breathe loud and this charming vision suddenly broke finding himself dreaming into his cell.
They lost the sense of time. The sun crossed the sky until disappearing completely under the river. He didn't dare to move from her side. Carefully he let her body reclined on the bed. It was a hard day and she needed to rest. It was a mixture of joy and bitterness. They were together, but what would happen once she wake up?
Life had both of them unusually and complicatedly tangled. He was aware that her life would be much easier without him. But he didn't know how to let her go. In fact he won't.
He smiled remembering Kathleen's complains when he exposed the idea of buying the old Jane's apartment. She didn't understand his reasons. He wanted to preserve intact the place where he had made love to her for the first time in his life. She was his first and last woman.
Supposedly it would be his gift for their first anniversary, but the events unchained later hindered his original intentions. So the place became his refuge. He could accesses in easily through the window, it was always open. It was very improbable that his aunt remembered his crazy idea, so the apartment became the best place to hide because it was not notarized under Clayton's name, but Porter's name.
They had to talk. He knew it, but how? Paradoxically one of the first advices that Larry gave him was to keep a fluid dialogue with his wife and it was the first broken thing when they began the therapy together.
The feral Clayton was accustomed to take advantage of what life offered him and this was a unique opportunity. Maybe now they could have a new chance. He didn't want to waste it.
He leaned on the bed next to her to watch over her startled sleeping. His finger split the falling rebel hair off her face. She was so beautiful that hurt looking at her. Giving to the temptation his arms enfolded pulling her closer. Upon his chest he felt her humid sadness slipped from her eyes washing any doubt, any resentment or any fear that he could have had.
……………………………
The flask smashed violently against the bottom of the plastic garbage can. The nurse snorted exasperatingly. Why everything was so difficult? Her plan had worked out as perfectly as she expected until the stupid simian escaped taking with him her victim. Adeptly she picked up every implement used in the emergency room and threw them to the incinerator. Smirking she made a good-bye gesture with her hand seeing the syringe melt erasing all traces of what she had done.
Watching the roasted plastic she realized that maybe the troglodyte did her a favor. She considered, 'If they find Jane Porter any trace of the hemorrhage's source would remain into her organism.' The nurse rubbed her hands satisfied with the results of her plan as a mocking smile hung from her lips. No one could tie her to the Clayton's baby death.
She abruptly spun over her own feet bumped into the dark face of Detective Sullivan.
"Helen… Whiteman?" he doubtfully asked. This woman's face… he saw her somewhere but couldn't remember where. He had been turning it over in his head all day and it finally came into illumination. "Are you the nurse in Doctor Wilcox's consulting-room?" He could swear that he had seen her on the pictures of the case's file. Of course he wasn't working on the Wilcox murder case, but he couldn't control himself. He searched and asked questions until Captain Connor ordered him not to put his nose where didn't correspond. But he was Porter's partner after all…
She turned pale but stayed calm considering the answer she had to give him. This man wasn't one of the policemen that had interviewed her about Larry's murder but the badge on his belt impelled her to reply. "Although I helped Larry in his consulting room there was a personal relationship between the two of us not one based on labor." She used Larry's name to let him know her familiarity with the dead.
Scratching his chin Sam pointed. "I didn't know Doctor Wilcox had any relationship."
"I shared his bed for fifteen years Detective," she replied annoyed, "I believe that I can assure that we had a relationship…" She had never understood Larry's attitude and it was not really pleasurable keeping private what was between two of them. What she had with him wasn't clandestine although they were never meet outside of his consulting-room or his bedroom.
Sam tilted his head. Knowing the troubles the good doctor brought to the young Claytons couple and finding out his little secret made ignited ire's flame inside him. So the good doctor was two-timing Jane. He desperately searched for a way to bed her but had the space in his bed booked by another woman just in case. 'I really want to revive the good doctor to be able to kill him again'
His brow rose as every time his brain analyzed diverse potential crimes scenarios. Would this woman know about the doctor's bed games? Another thought whipped through his mind. Would monkey-boy find out about of Doctor Wilcox bed trick? Sam choked and began to cough. It had been logical that his partner's husband had become furious if he realized it. He had to keep his mouth shut and investigate more before uttering a word of his discovery. He really didn't want to find another reason to send his partner's husband to the electric chair.
……………………………
Finally Jane had fallen asleep after her tears had drained all her sadness away.
Now he could move freely. "Surely you won't raw meat, do you?" he teased to his sleeping wife, "I have to change the way to look for food." Smirking he remembered the first time they met. He never expected that there would come a time when those days would seem to be simplest and happiest.
The wild Clayton searched in the drawer of the night table. Last time he was in the apartment he had left some cash. He could use it to buy what she needed. "Don't forget the coffee!" he commanded himself as he placed his bare foot on the windowsill.
The night was the best cover to his tracks while he traveled across the city. No concern was superfluous and he tried to cover any trace that could be tracked. It took him thirty minutes to return to the apartment.
She kept sleeping peacefully.
He placed the supplies on the kitchen table but his brain couldn't stop thinking. Inside his mind hundred of questions without a single coherent answer boiled. But he was certain of one thing, those men attacked his woman and caused his baby's death. He shook his long blond mane trying to remain calm. He had already made too many mistakes guided by his impulses. But his hands clamored for blood and revenge.
'Think.' He commanded himself 'They were just mere flunkies, stupid bootlickers, obeying someone else.' The rush of the events prevented him from analyzing the scent he smelled all over them. Suddenly a mixture of fury, deception and clarity hit him. He knew that scent! He recognized it! Why he didn't thought about it before?
Tarzan walked back to the bedroom and his sleeping beauty. Without hesitation he climbed out the window and scaled the wall toward the rooftop. The route he had to follow was well known to him.
Fifteen minutes later, through the embossed glass windows, the green-aqua eyes observed the man stretching his legs as they rested lazily on the table. A whiskey was held by his right hand. The ape-man hesitated for some seconds then he pushed the glass doors.
"Welcome son" Richard's alcoholic voice muttered listening to the window's noise as it opened up.
"Why?" The ape-man asked trying to maintain his poise but he hardly could contain his anger.
The CEO didn't need further explanation about his nephew's question. In fact he wondered, after hearing the news, what could it have delayed him? "Please son come and sit down." Without stopping dizzied the ice cube with his finger the businessman explained, "Two of my men got crazy hearing me speak about your problem John. You have to understand, they came from a world where no woman would treat you like she did. They decided to teach her a lesson, that way she could learn the role a woman should assume. They misunderstood my wish. I'm sorry John." He grinned, "You can't imagine how I tried to persuade them but they didn't listen." He sighted, drank his scotch and kept talking. "Now I have to find a good lawyer to assist them. They are good kids… I had to look for the way to reward them for their services." He finished his drink then spit. "Between you and me, John... she deserved it."
"She deserved it…" John repeated but Tarzan's cold and sharp tone was misinterpreted by his uncle.
"Oh! Yeah. I knew that one day you appreciate what I did for you." the cruel smile danced on his lips. "That bitch should learn that nobody could use a Clayton like a puppet." Richard got up reaching the whisky's bottle on the table. As he emptied it inside the glass he assured. "It's time that you realize how the things are in the real world, boy." He sat down again. "I presume she is good in bed and could bring you a healthy and strong heir. But you have to learn how to control her. She has to know who the boss is!"
Tarzan shortened the distance as Richard gave his annoying speech. He gazed at his uncle. That was a Clayton. Kathleen had told him that his father was far from Richard and both brothers constantly fought about how a Clayton had to be. It wasn't pleasant to discover that inside him a Clayton, as Richard described, inhabited into him. The distrust and his blindness could be the reason why he ended up in jail.
"Want me to behave like a Clayton?" Tarzan's tone was cold, low and severe.
"I would like it." Ingenuously Richard replied.
"As you wish…" A harsh smile slipped on John's face as he kicked hard Richard's chair. The man fell smashing against the floor, the glass held by his hand broke and its chips nailed into Richard's hand. The young Clayton stood watching as the blood bathed his uncle's fingers. "Although I would like to I can't be as cowardice as you. I can't be a coward that needs some hoodlums to beat a woman." The boredom, displeasure and dislike were evident John's face.
Richard's eyes opened wide trying to get up. "You're an idiot John!" He yelled. "She should learn how to respect you. Besides, my boys didn't hurt her..."
"You… hurt her!" His fury grew in exponential form. His fingers grabbed the Armani suit by the lapel raising him to the level of his eyes. Richard had to watch his anger and hate. Violently the ape-man smashed his back against the wall and placed his forearm on Richard's neck pressing his Adam's apple. "I should kill you!"
"Come on!" Richard dared. "Show me the ungrateful bastard you are!"
Fury, stupor and tears mixed into Tarzan's gaze. His fist incrusted violently into the wall near Richard face leaving its imprint on it. "Oh! Yeah I'm ungrateful, of course. I should thank you. Your 'naughty' boys gave me a nice present. They beat Jane and killed my son inside her." Richard turned pale. Tarzan loosened his grip letting the flaccid body fall to the ground.
Tarzan stepped back as his uncle coughed rubbing his aching neck. But Richard didn't end. With mocking expression he asked. "How do you know it was yours?"
Tarzan didn't reply but grabbed a penknife from the desk and nailed it across Richard's hand. His scream flooded the room.
The ape-man's powerful hearing perceived the steps of Richard's man approaching. Standing up the wild Clayton stared at his uncle. "I won't kill you right now. Your death will be slow and painful." He climbed to the balcony assuring, "You see, I can behave like a Clayton" Tarzan's cold tone froze Richard, a fearful shiver traveled trough him when he heard his nephew's declaration. "From now on you won't be able to close your eyes without knowing if you could open then again dear uncle."
………………………………………………
Slowly Jane spread her arm expecting to feel his warm skin but instead her fingers touched the empty cold sheet. The auburn-haired woman tossed nervously on the mattress. Had she only been dreaming? When finally she dared to open her eyes she found herself inside of her old bedroom still dressed with the hospital robe. Lethargically she sat up on the bed trying to hear some noise inside the house but her ears only perceived the hoarse purring of the night traffic. After few seconds her brown eyes got used to the surrounding darkness and she could sight the dresser and the mirror at the opposite wall.
Jane contemplated her image for some minutes. It was pathetic. She couldn't recognize the person drawn on the glass showing those severe features. What happened to her? When the rigid by-the-book Porter returned again? She thought that person had disappeared long time ago but she was looking at her again. Why had she come back? Could it be a self-defense reaction? She needed her old iron armor to be able to deal with the actual John problem.
Larry's voice filtered through her memories explaining:
"You have to consider John's traumatic background. He is unable to establish emotional bonds in the normal way any human been should have. It's not his fault. He kept feeling like an ape inside, twenty years couldn't fade instantly. You can't expect or even demand him to behave like a normal person. He is not." She watched the doctor speaking and scribbling something on the blank leaf before him. Wilcox was a handsome man with his hazelnut eyes, his blond short hair and his neat mustache. Jane didn't understand why but she begun to compare her husband's gestures with the doctor's gentlemanly manners. From the comparison John was the evident looser. "Possibly that it is the meaning of the nightmare you have had dreamed." He traced a line across the leaf. "The deep fracture opened up through the ground represents the breach in the relationship with John. It is interesting that you both were in opposite banks," the doctor smiled mischievously, "He was comfortably seated watching you jump trying to reach him and fall down."
"Yeah..." She admitted with resigned voice.
"Jane, you know that the bull-ape inside him is imposing. It is impeding any approaches and is the reason why the aggressiveness between both of you is increasing along to verbal violence." She nodded. Talking to her husband was becoming an impossible task. "I'm aware that the affective bond between both of you is strong and I'm sure that John is a permanent source of physical satisfactions." She blushed from toe to head. "But a marriage goes beyond the bed." He took carefully her hand among his. "Do you want to have children with him?" His unexpected question made her startle. Up till now her answer was always affirmative, but she was seeing an awful side of John. "Have you ever wondered if he was able to share your love with someone else?" She stared at him worriedly; such thought had never crossed her mind but listening to Larry's word she wasn't sure about how her husband could react. "The arrival of a son shakes strongly the bases on which any normal couple stand. It is necessary interweave new bonds using the emotional strands that previously existed. Would he be able to?"
Jane leaned on the back of her seat. She honestly confessed. "I don't know how to answer…"
"The problem," he kept talking, "it is that we don't know clearly what kind of bond John has with you. His city life had been build around you. You're the column that sustains him. His dependence on you makes him vulnerable and dangerous at the same time." Larry's kept quiet for some seconds building an idea in his mind. It was evident that he had problems explaining it correctly. "Besides, you have to consider one important thing." He swallowed hard and let it out, "Is it convenient to expose a little child to the permissive influence of a father that is not able to adapt to the society in which he lives? What kind of example he could bring to a permeable youth mind?
She was shocked. "Do you truly believe that he couldn't be a good father?"
Wilcox didn't answer immediately. "If the environment was a wild area he could be a good model but in the city…"shaking his head, "sorry I doubt that he could do a good job. He had enough problems trying to fit into an intricate society like ours. Can you imagine what kind of father's role he would represent?" The good doctor sentenced with conviction. "Almost impossible…"
Larry's image popped like soap bubble.
The Tarzan depicted by Larry was light years from the one had held her, had contained her, had calmed her and consoled her some hours ago. If she was guided by what the doctor said, Tarzan was incapable of such human reaction, but however… the infallible doctor was wrong.
She never analyzed before the way Doctor Wilcox talked about her husband. Possibly she had been too naive letting that man interfere with her conjugal life pretending helped them. She could see it clearly now but then everything was confusing. But she started to see the light the same day of Larry's death. That day the consulting session had not been as the other days.
She didn't understand that. She had fighting with John and came to look for help because she couldn't tell him about the baby she carried and totally flabbergasted she heard the doctor's explanation about why he couldn't assist anymore her husband. "Why do you abandon us now when we need you most?"
"Don't misunderstand what I said. I appreciate John and it bothers me to have to transfer him to another counselor, but…"
Some blows on the door interrupted him. A smiling Helen entered to the counseling room and dropped on the desk several files. "Here are the files you requested doctor."
"Thanks Helen." He said lightly perturbed. "Could you leave us alone, I have something very important to talk with Mrs. Clayton about."
The dark haired woman spun her head gazing at Jane who understood perfectly the message her eyes were sending, 'he is mine.'
As soon Helen left the room Jane's frustration became stupor and panic when she felt the masculine fingers squeeze her hand. Instinctively she pulled it back. Obviously she misunderstood his gesture but she found his eyes filled with an expression that she refused to analyze.
"Jane I need you to understand why I can't go on being John's counselor." Larry's made a lingering silence, "I am in love with his wife…"
She froze. Her first impulse was go out running but her legs didn't respond. She swallowed loud and the words sprouted of her mouth. In fact she didn't know where they coming from. "Larry. I'm flattered by your declaration but I am deeply in love with my husband." It was shocking to have this conversation. It was illogical, but she kept talking. "I'm apologizing if somehow, involuntarily, I send you a wrong signal. But in my life there is only place for one man, my husband." Without waiting an answer she got up and ran away from there feeling the nurse's cold gaze on her. Jane felt a chill, that woman scared her somehow.
Once again the detective shook her head trying to throw those memories off her mind. That day was the beginning of this nightmare.
Jane rose from the bed, walked to the dresser and opened the lower drawer. There it was the jeans and the T-shirt she wore yesterday, or that is what she expected. She didn't know how long she was in the apartment. She threw the robe on the bed and put the clothes on.
'If everything was as I used to be …' her hands searched on the upper right drawer, "Bingo!" The apartment keys were there waiting for her. She took them and walked to the main door. Two turns of the key unlocked it. Her fingers lowered the latch and pushed it out.
Jane watched as the door opened up, then she stopped. If she stepped ahead she left her life with John behind, but if she stepped backward … She raised her head understanding that she had the opportunity to save what was still between both of them.
Was something there to be saved? A tiny light began to blink inside her heart. What should she do?
Suddenly the wind pushed the wooden door closing it.
Jane Porter watched the door and smiling stepped back.