Standing outside the house he had once called home, Jasper questioned the wisdom of his decision to come back. Driven by the distant dream of making amends with those he had left behind, he had saved most of the money he had been given over the years. Sometimes, he had succumbed to the temptation of alcohol induced oblivion, but not as often as one might assume. He chuckled at the memory of Alice whose rescue was the final push he had needed to return to that place–what was the point of helping the little thing if the ones he truly needed to save had been neglected for so long?
He marveled at the beautiful garden and wondered about the cheery color of the walls. He asked himself if they were concerted efforts to erase the foulness that had tainted the insides of that house when he had lived there. The inconspicuous stench of lies and deceit made his stomach churn in disgust. In times like these, he wondered if Maria's fate wasn't a blessing in disguise–living with the weight of his mistakes only got harder as he got older.
Trapped in a torturing state of indecision, Jasper tried to predict the outcome of his impromptu return. For hours, he ignored the incessant throbbing in his weary legs and the pain of his weak spine. Gathering the courage to move, he knocked on the door and waited. His heart hammered in his chest and his palms were sweaty–he knew he wouldn't be welcomed, not if Maria was in one of her good days.
And if she wasn't…Suddenly, he was yanked from his musings by the loud bang of the door being thrown opened. Holding his breath, he waited for the reaction of the woman he had so callously abandoned.
"Jasper, I can't believe you're here."
Just like she used to do in the first days of their marriage, Maria showered Jasper with the affection he had never deserved. Overwhelmed, he simply followed her lead, but chose to perform a different role. For a few hours, Maria got the husbandly devotion she had been denied.
A million questions tormented his mind, but Jasper dared not voice them. His wife needed to feel loved at least once in her miserable life, even though her feeble mind no longer held the ability to form memories. Back when they were young, she had been sharp and bright, but for the past couple of decades Alzheimer's gradually washed away everything Maria used to be.
Falling asleep in her beloved's arms, Maria wondered about her good luck. She was loved by the owner of her heart and they were about to start a family–the miraculous conception of their baby after ten childless years never failed to bring tears of joy to her eyes.
Fortunately, she didn't remember the horror of being married to a tyrant or the pain of losing her only son. These days she didn't remember the daughter who had been taking care of her for the past fifteen years or the grandchildren who often visited.
She was a woman forever bound to love a man who never loved her in return.
Disentangling himself from a sleeping Maria, Jasper was already out of the house when he was met with the angry glare of his estranged daughter. He felt a pang of wistfulness for the little princess who loved to run into her daddy's arms. But the woman staring at him was a bitter old crone–the living proof of his advanced age.
"Have you lost your mind? I'm calling the cops."
Like an avenging angel, Jane walked past Jasper, obviously intending to make good on her threat. At the last moment, he reached out for her and caressed her cheek, silently pleading for a chance to explain, to make things right, to ask for forgiveness. Recoiling from her father's unwelcomed show of affection, Jane's mask of disdainful anger slipped. In its place, something far more terrifying marred her face: pure, unadulterated hate.
"What now, Daddy Dearest? Are you dying? Do you need someone to look after you? Or do you have some misguided notion of atoning for your sins? Your crimes? Because let me tell you something: no matter what you do now, you won't be seeing heaven."
Withholding the tears of sorrow for what had become of her family, Jane went inside. Heaving a sigh, Jasper said a little prayer to God–he asked for the wisdom to heal his daughter's wounded soul.
From afar, one of his granddaughters watched the unexpected events of that warm Sunday afternoon. Rosalie didn't make her presence known–she plastered a smile on her beautiful face and pretended that nothing had happened.
Just like she had done on that fatidic night, so many years ago.
Feeling wretched, Jasper had no other alternative than walking away. His weary feet had a mind of their own, carrying him to an unknown destination, guided by the imperative need to put distance between him and the emotional turmoil of meeting Jane again.
However, even in his frenzied state, Jasper knew that there was nowhere to go. The pain and guilt eating his insides wouldn't magically disappear, no matter how far he went. There is no escaping one's conscience, underdeveloped as it might be.
His dire financial straits meant that Jasper had to seek shelter before night fell. Searching his memory for appropriate places, he remembered the old shack by the lake. Abandoned and forgotten, it had been the place to where he had always retreated whenever life got too hard.
Entering the dusty old place, Jasper couldn't help a surge of bitterness–things had surely changed. He used to walk tall and proud, but now he was an old beggar with no pride or sense of worth. For a moment, he thought about putting an end to his own misery. But thoughts of Jane put a stop to that idea.
Underneath her hardened exterior, his little girl still needed him. And he had to do at least one good deed in his miserable life.
Monday morning, the news of Jasper's return reached John Peterson's ears. Being on the brink of retirement, Peterson had no wish to get embroiled in the legal quagmire about to ensue. However, he couldn't completely ignore the matter. Downing the remaining contents of his oversized coffee mug, Peterson cursed his former friend's timing.
Steeling himself, Peterson opened the creaking door of Jasper's refuge. Just as if he was expecting Peterson's visit, Jasper stood proud and unafraid. Jasper's countenance didn't betray the fear coursing through his veins or the instinct to flee from the shame he felt—a long time ago he had mastered the art of suppressing his bodily urges.
Saddened by distance between them, Jasper extended his hand to the other man. Although they had once shared a deep bond of tutor and apprentice, Peterson wasn't a forgiving man. Coldly staring down the man he used to admire, Peterson locked away his emotions and addressed the issue at hand.
"Jasper, you know what I have to do."
"Not yet."
"When?"
"Soon. I'm not running away this time."
Honor. Such a vague concept, such a frail entity. However, both men knew better than to question each other's word. Nodding his assent, Sheriff Peterson left without further delay.
That afternoon, against her better judgment, Jane sought out her father. Locating him was quite easy, since there were few places where a penniless man could find shelter. She hadn't failed to realize the poor state of his clothes or the frailty of his body. A part of her felt sorry for him—he was her father, after all. But not even the memory of his affection could erase his heinous acts.
She found him sitting by the lake, watching the sunset while shedding some tears. Fighting the instinct to throw herself in his arms, Jane cleared her throat. Startled out of the maudlin thoughts consuming him, Jasper watched his fidgety daughter. Something about her posture alerted Jasper to the nature of her visit—she had a request to make.
"Mom has been agitated. Your reappearance has somehow sent her mind sixty years back into the past and now she is fretting over the fact that you haven't been home for days.
"This isn't easy for me, but I'm here to ask you to come by the house and calm her. Maybe that will snap her out of this weird episode and she can go back to being absent. I already checked with Peterson and … "
Hands balled into fists, Jasper couldn't control the rage he felt at hearing Jane's tirade.
"You'd rather see your own mother vacant minded than having me around?"
Jasper felt like punching the man responsible for the rift between him and his daughter. However, ultimately that man had been none other than himself. Shaking his head, he was ready to concede the point and end the argument—antagonizing his daughter wouldn't help his cause. Jane had other ideas.
"I'd rather she remembered what you did, who you are … The time when she turned you in to the authorities without a second thought."
Jane spat the words out like poison—she wanted to hurt him, to make him see just how much of a sacrifice being around him truly was. She couldn't remember a time when she hadn't been an amalgam of resentment, anger, guilt and bitterness.
Jasper tried to rein in the urge to strike back, for he knew that Jane knew nothing of the events preceding her brother's death. But he was only human and couldn't resist the temptation of planting a seed of doubt about her brother's true character.
"Do you think you knew you brother? Truly knew him?"
"Of course! Don't you dare … "
"We will do this another time, Jane. Just take me to your mom."
Angry, but resigned, Jane led the way back to a house that neither one of them could call home anymore.
"Jasper, I was so worried. I thought something had happened down the station! Your sister kept telling me that everything was okay, but I don't trust her. To tell you the truth, I don't like her much. Can we get rid of her? Please?"
Smiling softly, Jasper hugged her to his chest and heard her sigh of contentment. Why hadn't he done that before? He had set the stage, why hadn't he been able to play the part? He had resented Maria for all the wrong reasons—she wasn't to blame for his inability to accept himself.
"Maybe you should take a bath. There are clean clothes on the bed." Jane's cutting remark snapped Maria out of her haze of contentment. Sneering, she turned to Jasper and whispered her displeasure.
"See how she is? I know she is your sister, but I can't stand her! Please, tell me she will be going soon … "
Saddened, Jasper could see the pain in Jane's eyes—her own mother mistook her for a woman that had been dead for over four decades. Appeasing his wife, he heard the faint sounds of his daughter quiet sobs. But there was nothing he could do—even if he hadn't left, Jane would have been forced into the role of Maria's caretaker.
Sometimes, life simply wasn't fair.
After she bathed they sat side by side on the couch, as two young lovers would. It was bittersweet, for Jasper knew he had never bothered with such a thing ever before. He would have descended into an spiral of self-loathing, but Maria was still present and in a talkative mood.
"Do you remember the day we met? Oh, you looked so dashing in your uniform. I was thrilled by your attentions, and then the letters … you were so romantic! Then, when you came back, you were this brooding hero , like every young woman's secret fantasy … I couldn't help it: I fell in love with you."
Snuggling into his chest, Maria was the picture of contentment. She was once again the naïve girl who seemed oblivious to her husband's coldness. It broke Jasper's heart, for he wished he had been able to be a true husband to his sweet natured wife. Maybe he could have been … but then he had met Peter and everything had changed.
Shying away from those memories, Jasper turned to the woman in his arms. He was selfish enough to consider her state of mind as a second chance, and he wasn't about to let it slip through his fingers. He said sweet little things in her ear and played with her hair. She giggled merrily at his waggling eyebrows whenever he was suggesting naughty things.
That night when she invited him into her bed, Jasper had a moment of hesitation. Could he perform the act as it was meant to be done?
He looked into her eyes, and let the years melt away. With great effort, he recalled his eighteen year old self, a boy besotted with the first girl who had ever kissed him. Maria was so pretty and sweet, her big brown eyes adoringly staring at him with untapped sensuality. His body had responded violently to her unconscious invitation, but he had refrained from acting on it. Instead, he had succumbed to his foolish young heart's urgings and dropped to one knee and proposed. That's where he stopped the influx of memories—the rest of their story wouldn't help him right now.
Brushing her hair aside, Jasper kissed her with the hunger of a passionate boy and the reverence of an old man about to make love for the last time. As their clothes fell away, Jasper regarded her through misty eyes—he wished he could have loved her, for she still was an exquisite woman. She took his hand and bashfully guided him to the bed.
That night he pleasured his wife like he had never done before. He watched with awed interest the flutter of her eyes when she found completion, marveling at the fact that he had lasted long enough to give her that.
It was a dream, a little insight into what might have been.
The next day Maria returned to a semi-catatonic state. Jasper was disconcerted by the sudden change, not to mention feeling guilty—had it not been for his eagerness to indulge Maria, maybe she wouldn't have retreated inside herself once again.
However, the change didn't seem to surprise Jane. She simply pushed her mother out of the bed and into the shower. She refrained from commenting on Maria's state of undress, but disapproval poured out of her. After forcing something that looked remarkably like baby food down Maria's throat, Jane sat her in front of the TV, and proceeded to wash the sheets and clean the house.
Jasper found it strange that Jane still hadn't kicked him out of the house. It took him a while to realize that she wasn't coping with the situation as well as he had believed. Just like she had done as a child, Jane needed to keep herself busy in order to avoid thinking about unpleasant subjects.
Making use of whatever time he had left, Jasper wandered around the house. It looked exactly the same as it always had, except for some small additions here and there. Despite the four decades he had shared it with Maria, he had never considered it his home—it was a resting place, a pit stop before he could head to his real home.
Home is where the heart is, and Jasper's heart had been lost during the War.
Before he knew it, Jasper found himself staring at his deceased son's bedroom door —the place where he had unknowingly harbored a monster for twenty something years, until Alec married Rebecca and started to show his true colors. For the next fourteen years, Maria had kept it as a shrine to her beloved son, even though he was only married, not deceased. After his son's death, Maria had trashed the place as an expression of grief.
Curious as to what had become of the room, Jasper turned the knob and stepped inside. He didn't know what he had expected, but surely wasn't what he found. It was a beautifully decorated guest room, completely normal, utterly average. There was no trace of its former inhabitant—obviously, Jane wasn't prone to the same dramatics her mother was, or used to be, at any rate.
"What are you still doing here? You have overstayed your welcome. Now, leave!"
The vehemence of Jane's order had an opposite effect on Jasper. He wasn't about to back down, not before she listened to everything he had to say. If she needed a dose of tough love, so be it.
"You are the one who have overstayed your welcome: this is my house! I don't want you here unless you start behaving civilly to me, understood?"
Seething in anger, Jane punched the wall until her knuckles split opened. The feelings she had repressed in order to survive everything life had thrown her way came out with a vengeance. She screamed like a dark angel bent on vengeance; she cursed like a woman sentenced to death; she cried like a little girl in need of her daddy.
Jasper stood back, suppressing the urge to run to his little girl and make everything better. However, he knew that she needed to take a moment to really grieve the many losses she had experienced throughout the years. The good for nothing husband who had left her penniless and with a young child to boot. The brother she had loved dearly, despite his inability to return the sentiment. The overwhelming demands of caring for a mother who couldn't even remember her, let alone thank all the sacrifices she had made. The scandal and the pain brought on by her father.
She fell to the floor and stared at nothing in particular. As the minutes turned into hours, Jane gradually regained control over her frazzled emotions. Deep inside her heart, she knew that the breakdown was a long time coming. She wasn't ready to thank her father for pushing her into dealing with her feelings, but she was glad it had happened. Now she could finally voice the question that had been tormenting her since the day her brother was murdered.
"Why daddy?"
She had the bewildered air of a little child who couldn't fully comprehend her parent's behavior. Jasper gulped loudly—this was the chance he had prayed for. Never before had he truly believed in the existence of a higher being, but this beautiful moment had convinced him of it.
"It's a long story, princess. We might as well make ourselves comfortable."
Jasper was surprised when she accepted the hand he offered to her. The contact was reassuring, but he didn't delude himself into believing that everything would be okay—he had entertained the idea of asking for forgiveness, but now he knew that he didn't deserve even that.
Maria was napping, so they went into the kitchen. As usual, Jane filled two mugs with coffee. Many nights, they had spent like this—bonding over they shared love for caffeine. But the tension simmering underneath the calm façade was a mockery of the familiarity of the scene. Jasper needed to remind himself of their changed circumstances—he couldn't afford to fall apart when her rejection came. No, he didn't want to coerce Jane into saying things she didn't mean just to appease her broken father.
It was time he owned up to his mistakes … After eighty four years he was finally ready to become a man.
"Do you remember me telling you about my time in the Army?"
A little of Jane's fire returned. No, she wasn't a meek little princess, Jasper mused. His Jane had always been strong willed and outspoken.
"What does that have to do with anything? How does that explain what happened that night? I don't have time to waste."
"Neither do I, Jane. I promise you that every single thing that comes out of my mouth is a necessary confession. I can't turn back time and do right by your mother and your brother, but I can tell you my story. The things I'm about to tell you...I've barely confessed them even to myself. I know that hearing my story won't change the outcome of my actions, but perhaps I can make you realize that not everything is black or white: there is a whole spectrum of colors in between."
"Why now? You've implied that there is more to my brother's murder than what meets the eye … You had your day in court, why didn't you tell it back then?"
"Because there was an innocent life I wanted to protect. She didn't deserve to have her life exposed like that—she had already been through enough."
"A girl? Where does she fit in?"
Jasper could see the wheels of Jane's mind turning, but he knew that she would never come to the right conclusion. Nevertheless, he was disappointed to realize that she had come to the sordid conclusion that he had been romantically involved with a girl. Shaking his head, he proceeded to disabuse her of that notion. Suspicion still lingered in her eyes, but she refrained from voicing them.
"I'm not starting at the end —that's where she fits in, by the way. I need to tell this my way, okay?"
Rolling her eyes, Jane huffed, but nodded. Jasper wasn't a stranger to that gesture: his daughter had never been patient.
"Back in my day, every boy wanted to join the Army and I wasn't any different. We were all so enthralled by the idea of fighting a tyrant that we never stopped to consider the risks. You see, I wasn't the average eighteen year old boy: I was shy and bookish, I hadn't experienced life, at all.
"The whole nation was swept away in the tide. Girls swooned over a man in uniform, but even then I wasn't able to catch anyone's fancy.
"So, when your mother paid attention to me, I was beyond flattered. We went to school together, did you know that? But she was with the popular crowd, not the mean, vicious one … She was just too beautiful and too smart not to stand out.
"I couldn't have said no to her, even though part of me really wanted to."
It never ceased to amaze Jasper how uncomfortable his daughter was whenever she heard about the night her parents got engaged. Romance always made Jane uneasy, even as a young girl. It was one of the motives her husband had given for his departure: her inability to simply think with her heart.
"Okay, I know all about the proposal, the letters you exchanged, how you came back and three months later married my mom—that's old history. Stop stalling."
She had seen right through his poor attempt at delaying the inevitable—after all, coming clean about his past was the reason for his return.
"When I was in the Army I met this guy, his name was Peter. We clicked right from the beginning: while the other guys spent their days off seeking female company, we stayed behind. The training was hard and I was in love —those were the reasons I gave for my lack of interest in skirt chasing. Peter didn't bother with reasons; he simply shrugged, saying that he functioned differently from the others.
"After training, he and I were sent to Tunisia. I don't know if it was a coincidence or if he somehow managed to be sent wherever I went. But I was glad because my best friend was going with me."
"As the days passed by, we grew closer, until one day he kissed me. Because of my time and the way we were educated, I punched him in the face. He laughed and that pissed me off, so I punched him again and again … Suffice to say that we ended up being together in an unnatural way.
"I was confused, overwhelmed, afraid … I often sought his intimate company, because as much as I tried to deny it, I burned for him—not only my skin, but my heart too. I tried to pray to God, so that he would take away those unholy urges, but it didn't work: I always went back to him."
Jasper remembered all the things he couldn't tell Jane—the smoothness of Peter's skin, the feeling of Peter's mouth on his intimate parts, the hypnotic way Peter clenched in agonized pleasure around his powerful thrusts. Jasper had never gathered the courage to allow Peter into his body—one of the many regrets he would carry to his grave, because now, seventy years too late, he knew that they weren't aberrations.
He patiently waited while Jane digested the information. Her eyes were downcast for a long time, before she pinned him with her unflinching gaze.
"Just so we are clear: are you telling me that you are gay?"
"Yes, Jane."
"But how? You've been married to mom for what … fifty years? Did you cheat on her?"
"Of course not. I wouldn't betray my vows like that—she already had enough on her plate without me adding infidelity to it. I care deeply for your mom, but I have been in love only once in my lifetime."
"Then why aren't you with him? I mean, I understand that things were different back then, but you just said that you were always faithful to mom. Why did you give him up? God, this is so strange … Talking about my father's affair with another man."
There was an edge of bitterness to Jane's words, probably due to the fact that she had never been in love. She couldn't even bring herself to condemn her father, like her head told her to, not when her deepest desire was to feel the sort of emotion her father's eyes betrayed when he said Peter's name. She actually felt sorry for the confused boy her father had been and for the clueless woman he had married.
"I didn't stay with him because he died in the Battle of Kasserine Pass. I only had him for a few short months before he was taken from me … "
Feeling exhausted, Jasper closed his eyes and let the old pain wash over him. He was used to the onslaught of emotions brought by the memories of the terrible months that followed Peter's death. Worst of all was the illegitimacy of his claim to Peter, the impossibility of grieving for him. Becoming reckless, or heroic as his superiors had called it, was his way of coping with the terrible experience of watching the love of his life die.
To Jasper's everlasting surprise, Jane got up from the chair and hugged him. Basking in the glow of her acceptance, he almost forgot about the hard confessions still to come.
"I'm sorry about what you went through, but I still don't get how it's related to Alec."
"When I came back from the war, I was bitter, resentful. I married your mom because I wanted her to heal me, to make me a man again. It was unfair of me, but I blamed her for the fact that she couldn't make me forget him. I joined the police and worked long hours—anything to keep me away from the wife I could never love.
"We were married for over ten years when she told me that she was expecting. You see, I was terrified of having children—what if it was a boy? What if he was an aberration like me?
"But I couldn't bear the thought of killing a child, so there was no way around it. Then, I made a vow to myself: no matter what it took, I wouldn't let my son turn out like me."
"Alec was ten years your senior, I think that's why you never realized how hard I was on him."
"What do you mean? Despite everything you were a good father to me, to us. That's why I don't understand...It doesn't make any sense...Can you get to the point, please?"
"Your brother was a highly functional drug addict who also happened to be a wife beater, a womanizer and much worse. I blame myself for all of this: I was too demanding, too strict. He wasn't allowed to play with other boys, because I didn't want him to be tempted—it was irrational, but I used to believe that he was just like me and it was my job to keep him from finding out about it. He also wasn't allowed near girls, because I was afraid he would play girly games, like dressing up. Nothing short of perfection would ever do.
"The punishments for his infractions were harsh and cruel. I used to lock him in the basement—he was terrified of the dark and men shouldn't ever be afraid. The first time he had sex, he refused to tell me the name of his partner. I assumed the worst and I beat him within an inch of his life. He became a monster, but he was a monster of my own making."
"This is where the girl fits in—he raped her."
"Why are you denigrating my brother's memory? Why are you saying these lies? He doesn't deserve it, do you hear me? He is not here to stand up for himself … And why would you kill your own son because some girl made some false accusations? Did you even give him the benefit of the doubt?"
Jasper thought he was prepared to deal with her emotional outburst, but he wasn't. He was furious at Jane for perpetuating the stereotype of society doubting the victim.
"She never told a soul about what happened. Your brother was too smart to prey upon those who could stand up for themselves. He picked a girl from the wrong side of the tracks, one that had no father to defend her and an irresponsible mother."
"I don't believe it."
"Believe what you will, but you will hear me out. Rebecca was in the hospital with a broken jaw. As usual, she refused to talk about it, blaming it on a fall. I was fed up with your brother's behavior, so I went to his house to confront him.
"When I got there, a crack whore was there, yelling at him, accusing him of raping her daughter. Imagine, a woman like that with a child. But the important bit is that he didn't even deny it … God, he laughed, Jane. He was reenacting the moment when he held her so tight he broke her ribs while the woman screamed in horror. He acted as if the girl he had violated was nothing, like he was a god who could do as he pleased.
"That's why I shot him. He was my mess and I had to clean it."
In the romance novels she was so fond of, whenever the character was presented with extremely upsetting news they felt numbed and that helped them survive the ordeal. But real life lacked the perfectly crafted wisdom of made up emotions: Jane felt everything at once.
She felt anger at herself for being so oblivious to the blatantly obvious discrepancies between her father's treatment of her and that afforded to Alec. She was outraged in her mother's behalf, for no woman should be bound for life to a man whose heart was engaged elsewhere. She felt a fury like no other at the way her father let homophobia poison his heart against his own son.
Above all, she felt the hopelessness of knowing that so many lives had been irrevocably changed for the worst because of Jasper's inability to accept himself. Maria would die knowing that the husband she had adored had murdered her beloved son. The person Alec could have been if he had been raised in a loving environment was forever lost; the person he actually became wouldn't have the chance to redeem himself and mend his ways. The poor girl who had been raped … Jane … Jasper himself …
A thousand questions swirled in her mind—why hadn't he told this during his trial; why the girl's mother hadn't be called as a witness; how he had managed to escape the prison; where had he been for the past fifteen years—however there was one question she didn't need to ask, for she already knew the answer.
He had come back to seek atonement for his many sins.
As Jasper watched the play of emotions on Jane's face, he wondered what her verdict would be. Anxiety gripped his weary heart while his mind frantically worked on arguments should she choose not to absolve him from the sins he had just confessed. Only when Jane's features became gloom lines of unyielding resolve did Jasper realize the unfairness of casting her in the roles of judge, jury and executioner.
Going back home was the culmination of a lifetime of selfish choices. The proximity to death had given him the excuse he needed to seek the forgiveness he wanted from the one person who wouldn't deny it. Time hadn't changed the merciful nature of Jane's heart, even if her mind was of a different opinion. She would tear herself apart by forgiving him, and Jasper couldn't live with that.
Forgiveness was a gift to the contrite, but how contrite is a man who commits the same offense time and again? Once again he was putting his needs before those of the ones he loved, but there was still time … Time to do right for at least one person. He got up from the chair, dropped a kiss on Jane's forehead and left without looking behind.
Relief and sorrow warred within Jane's heart, but in the end she chose not to follow her father. She didn't want to deal with the implications of Jasper's revelations—as usual, she locked everything away from her conscious mind and went about her day as if her perception of the past hadn't been completely altered.
Meanwhile, in the seediest part of that same town, a woman stood before the den of iniquity that her quarry used to inhabit. For the tenth time, the woman wished for the fortitude of the companion she was forced to leave at the hotel. But this neighborhood wasn't safe and her companion was a bit on the trusting side: she had no malice, so she couldn't recognize it.
She willed her feet to move, but they refused to obey her command. Years in the limbo of denial had weakened her confrontational skills, therefore she hesitated before entering the battlefield. Reminding herself of her resolve to stop hiding, she squared her shoulders and knocked on the door.
The man who answered it was more than willing to provide information once she had properly compensated him. The one she sought was long gone, he said, victim of an overdose. He proceeded to tell her the sordid details surrounding the death, but she was no longer listening. A part of her was mourning the loss of her mother, while the other part was exceedingly angry at the turn of events—the questions that tortured her heart and stole her sleep would never be answered.
She left the man and kept on walking until a familiar face caught her attention.
Upholding his word, Jasper headed downtown to the police station. However, his debt to society would go forever unpaid, for he spotted an agonized Bella standing across the street. For a second he held her gaze, searching for the reasons behind her unusual mood. His mind didn't even have the time to realize that she shouldn't be there, that her home was far from this city, because when her gaze became focussed and she recognized him, the transformation on her face became too much—he didn't deserve her sweet, friendly smile.
His ailing heart no longer could bear the weight of guilt, thus it succumbed. Falling to the ground, Jasper welcomed the pain—he thought he had found his demise. In the few seconds that he hovered between glaring light and beckoning darkness, he felt Bella touch his face. Before he could embrace death, Jasper whispered his apologies.
"Oh, God … I'm sorry … It was all my fault … Say you forgive me … Forgive me … "
Bella failed to respond to his request, for she was already on the phone arranging for the best medical care money could provide.
Feeling the sweet relief of fading life, Jasper smiled—he was ready to be with his beloved once again.
Little did he know that death would have to wait until a beautiful blonde had her say.
As days passed by, Jasper was still ambivalent about his continued existence, but he forced himself to play the part of a gracious host, even though his visitor was the one paying for his accommodations. He tucked away in a very private clinic while the sheriff mercifully kept him safe from the clutches of the law. Thankfully, the reason behind his heinous act was unknown to all, but Jane and since she never came around to visit, be it by ignorance, be it by choice, Bella remained blissfully ignorant of the ties uniting them. However, sometimes, he wondered if maybe she had a nagging suspicion …
He had toyed with the idea of telling her the truth, but disregarded it. He was wiser now—his experience with Jane had taught him that sometimes the truth didn't help a person heal the wounds of the past. Bella would never know that he had killed the brute who had stolen her childhood. He would never share the joy he felt when chance put her on his path or the elation he felt at the way she overcame her circumstances. No, thrusting that knowledge on her would be selfish.
That evening, Bella left after promising that she would be back the next day. Jasper felt like the worst sort of cad, because he didn't wish for her company or her help. He simply wanted to die alone and unattended–just like he deserved. But justice, or something like that, wouldn't be served on his terms, for an unwelcomed steely voice disrupted Jasper's troubled dreams bringing him back to a reality he'd rather not face
"Wake up, old man. We have a score to settle."
She hadn't changed much in the years he had been gone—her beauty hadn't faded, if anything it had matured into absolute perfection. However, her azure eyes no longer sparkled with vivacity—they lacked any emotion.
"Did you miss me, Grandpa?"
Ashamed, Jasper averted his eyes. Because Rosalie was the fruit of Alec's loins, Jasper had never developed any affection for her. He never even considered the possibility that she truly mourned her father's death—he believed her to be shallow and vain: a being incapable of deeper emotions. Had he been wrong in his assessment? No, Jasper didn't want to believe that she was more than met the eyes.
"Maybe we should catch up...Let me think…Oh, right: after you killed my father who happened to be your son, by the way, my mother dumped me at Grandma's and I never heard from her again. Aunt Jane was an angel and her kid wasn't too bad, but Grandma was a pain in the ass. Do you know how annoying it was, catering to her crazed whims, making sure that she didn't run away, that she was clean and fed? It was a nightmare.
"Then, there was the whole city–judging me, looking down on me. I was so scared of going out, so afraid of what they would do to me. So, I used bitchness as an armor, even hurting myself in the process.
"When I moved away, I started a new life—without the stigma of being a member of a dysfunctional family, there was time to explore, to bask in the freedom of anonymity … But then I was forced into visiting the family and who did I find there? You had to come back, didn't you? All those feelings that I believed to be dead and buried found their way out again. I tried so hard to forget … but I can't.
"And now I'm here…Have you ever considered how your actions affected me? Do you even care?"
Her voice shook with barely suppressed anger, betraying emotions that she had wanted to conceal. Forcing his eyes away from the window, Jasper truly looked at the formidable woman hurling well deserved accusations at him. And he understood that his biggest sin had been betraying the family he should have loved above all things. Maria, Alec, Jane, Rosalie, Jane's boy whose name he couldn't remember … All casualties of his lack of loyalty, his inability to put them above himself, what he wanted, what he needed …
Not even what he had considered to be his most selfless act was truly altruistic. Killing his son hadn't been about avenging an innocent; it had been a punishment to a disobedient son who had displeased a strict father. The girl had been far from his mind: only as an afterthought did he send her a guardian Angel who would inevitably drag her into a life of prostitution.
No, he wasn't a good man, or an honest one. His clumsy attempts at seeking forgiveness had been nothing but another manifestation of his dishonesty. Forgiveness was a gift to the contrite, but he didn't really regret his actions, did he? A repentant man mended his ways … and Jasper kept on making the same mistakes, committing the same sins.
"All I want from you is to know why … Why did you kill my father?"
Rosalie had a faraway look, her eyes blind to the present, fixated on a past that still haunted her. She became unguarded and her posture relaxed—that's when Jasper noticed the syringe she casually held. She had one question, but no matter the answer, the outcome would be the same.
"Because I could never stand him. I hated him, always did, still do."
It wasn't the truth, but letting her believe him a monster was the merciful thing to do—every girl deserved to have an untainted memory of her father. Let her have her revenge, he thought, she needed it in order to move on with her life.
A single tear ran down his face. It was an expression of sorrow for the home to which he would never return —Peter belonged in Heaven, while Jasper deserved nothing less than burning in Hell for eternity, and no words of forgiveness could spare him from his fate, he knew that now. So, he opened his eyes and faced the angel of wrath without fear, just resignation.
Inclement and self-righteous, Rosalie didn't dwell on what she was about to do—she simply pushed the syringe's content into the central venous catheter.
"Goodbye, Grandpapa. See you in Hell."
It was cold and rainy, but that didn't keep Bella from staying until the end. At her side, a disgruntled Alice did her best to stay under the umbrella—she really did hate getting wet. They were the only ones attending the burial of their shared friend.
The doctors couldn't explain what had gone wrong—one minute everything seemed to be okay, the other he was gone. Pressuring the doctors proved to be a vain effort: they had many theories about Jasper's death, but no answers. Bella's only consolation was that he had gone peacefully in his sleep … in a warm bed, with a full stomach.
Letting her grief be translated into tears, Bella remembered Jasper's pleas when he had fallen to the ground. She had never asked him about that day, but now she regretted it. They had come from the same small town—the fact that their paths had never crossed while living at that godforsaken place was a true wonder. Had he known her back when she was a child, a teenager? Why had he asked for her forgiveness? Had he ever been one of her clients? Disgruntled by that thought, she shied away from even entertaining that thought.
Bella had the means to find out the answers, but she chose not to pursue it. She was wise enough to know that some things are better left unsaid, some secrets unrevealed. Besides, she wanted to remember him as her sweet, old friend.
Cradling Alice against her chest, Bella offered Jasper one last gift.
"I forgive you, my friend. Goodbye."