This is a work of (fan) fiction. I own nothing.
"What did you find, Broots?" Ms. Parker asked, leaning over his computer terminal. Broots nodded and set his fingers to the keyboard.
"Ok, I put in a massive search and all I found was a record of a Mary Patience Gonzales, who was found at the age of four months in the trashcan of St. Catherine's Orphanage. She was put on the registry for adoption until the age of ten, when she was later put on the register of permanent residence in the nun's dormitory."
"She was a nun?" She asked, shock written on her face.
"O-only in t-training. She was a novice to the Mother Superior until she entered high school. At the age of fifteen, she enrolled in a public high school. She had an exemplary record until she was admitted into the psychiatric ward at St. Jude's hospital in Conneticut a year later."
"Lyle sure knows how to pick 'em." Ms. Parker hissed. "Mail-order brides and psychotic ex-nuns."
"Um, novice, Ms. Parker." She glared at him.
"Did you find any connection with Lyle?"
"That's just it! I can't find one thing that links the two; Their schools, their work records, their home addresses. Nothing overlapse! There is no way they could know each other. They couldn't even bump into each other on the street! They live in different towns in different states! There's no connection!" As he said it, Sydney walked in carrying an envelope.
"How goes the search?" He asked.
"We didn't find a damn thing." Ms. Parker said angrily. He chuckled.
"That's too bad. Ms. Parker, this has just arrived for you." He said, holding out the envelope. "It has Jarod's handwriting." Ms. Parker snatched it away and tore it open. It was a gray-scale photograph of Patience and Mr. Lyle crossing a street. They were holding hands, Mr. Lyle whispering in her ear and Patience laughing at whatever he said. Written underneath in bold letters was a message:
DID BOBBY BOWMAN BAG A BONKERS BROAD? FIND THE FICKLE FACTS.
"What an interesting use of alliteration." Sydney said, reading over her shoulder.
"Genius Boy is a regular Alfred Tennyson." She muttered.
"Why does Jarod want us to find out if she's bonkers?" Broots asked.
"I don't know, maybe Jarod knows she was...hospitalized..." It was like a light turned on inside Ms. Parker's head. She snapped her fingers at Broots.
"Read the details of her admittance to that psychiatric ward." Broots fingers went flying over the keys.
"Here it is: on May 17th on an end-of-the-year field trip to Yellowstone Park, she started to have hallucinations. Her classmates said she acted normal until she met the tour guide, Francis Trumon. There's no description of what she supposedly saw, only that she got violent with Trumon. She pushed him into an erupting geyser. Witnesses say she was accusing him of something. He was hospitalized with third degree burns for a month. There's a list of her treatments. It's all pretty standard stuff for schizophrenia. Therapy, medication. She was released months before the court-sanctioned release date. There was no repeat of violence, and her diagnosis was inconclusive. She's still required to schedule sessions with a therapist, Dr. Suzannah Garrison, once a month."
"Find out where she's practicing."
"The address is right here." Broots wrothe it down on a piece of paper. She snatched it up.
"Keep digging, Broots. Call us if you find anything." She turned to Sydney. "Come on, Syd. Time to pay a visit to the nut house."
There were long lines at the grocery store. Patience sighed and turned her cart down another aisle. She didn't mind waiting. She had to get some coffee for Lyle, anyway. She didn't drink it, but he did. He had called her this morning to tell her that he was coming over to spend the afternoon with her. As she grabbed a couple cans, she remembered when he gave her the coffee-maker on her birthday.
"Just so I have something decent to drink when I come over." He said when she opened it. She smiled at the memory. It had been his way of saying that he would visit more often. In her musing, she didn't notice the cart in her path until she crashed into it.
"I'm sorry!" She cried, backing up. And then she noticed the person behind the cart. "Brother Jarod! It's nice to...uh...run into you again." He chuckled at her joke. He was dressed in normal clothes this time; gray t-shirt, jeans and a brown coat.
"It's nice to see you, too, Patience. What are you doing?"
"Oh, just picking up some stuff to tide me over until payday."
"What do you do for a living?"
"I'm a nurse at St. Monica's."
"That must be very rewarding work." He glanced down at her cart. "You must really like coffee."
"That's not for me. It's for my fr-...My fiance. I can never remember what kind he likes."
"He's a very lucky man to be loved by such a considerate woman." Patience blushed at his compliment.
"Yeah I guess." Jarod frowned as he took a closer look at the label on a plastic bag in her cart.
"Gummy...worms?" He asked, sounding confused.
"Oh, yeah." She picked up the package and handed them to him so that he could take a closer look. "I have a weakness for any kind of gummy candy. I gave them up last year, for Lent. I thought I'd go crazy."
"So these are candy shaped like something that most people find disgusting?"
"Pretty much."
"Can you catch candy fish with them?" She laughed. He sounded like a little boy.
"Maybe Swedish fish." He smiled at her and handed back the candy. She turned her cart around. "Anyway, I have to go I'll see you later."
"On Sunday, right?" She smiled at him.
"Why don't you come around the hospital at around two and we'll grab some sandwiches? I can tell you a little something about this town."
"That sounds great! I'll se you then." With a wave, he turned his cart and moved out of the aisle.
Patience was putting away the groceries when someone knocked at her door. She shoved the rest of the coffee in the pantry quickly and answered the door. It was Lyle. He was leaning his left forearm against the doorway, his usual I'm-so-charming-you-like-me-you-know-you-do smile in place. a plastic shopping bag dangled from his right hand.
"An apology for not being around much this week." He said, handing her the bag. Inside were some candles with St. Jude and a box of incense.
"You remembered." She took in his clothes of choice. "Wow. Plaid shirt and blue jeans. Very relaxed." He looked down at his clothes.
"Do you have a problem with the rustic look?"
"No, I don't. I was just thinking that the only time you dress like that is when you go off to play Rambo in the woods. What's the occasion?" He pushed off the door and stepped into the hall.
"Well, we haven't spent any time just relaxing, and I thought we could just stay here for the afternoon. Pop some popcorn and watch one of those awful made-for-TV movies that you like?" He walked past her and tapped her nose playfully. "You still like kettle corn, right?"
"Since junior high." She assured him, leading him into the kitchen. "Do you want something to drink?" She asked as she stashed his gifts in a drawer.
"Oh, I don't know. What do you have?"
"Let me see. I just went shopping." She checked her cabinets. "I have French Roast, Turkish Blend, Decaf, mint, orange blossom, rasberry and green tea. I also have some soda if you want."
"I'll just have some French Roast." As Patience bustled about making drinks, Lyle lounged on the couch, watching her every move. Once they were ready, she came in to the living room. She had a coffee mug and teacup on a tray, along with a bowl of popcorn and a bag of chips.
"Coffee for Lyle," She handed him the mug. "And raspberry tea for me." She set the tray on the side table next to him. He picked up the chips bag and studied it.
"What are these supposed to be?" He said as he opened them and held out a french-fry shaped chip.
"Shrimp-flavored chips." She said. She took one and popped it into her mouth. "From Japan. They're very good. And I know you like Asian food." He gazed affectionately at her.
"Don't buy food on my account."
"Too late." She snatched the chip from his fingers and fed it to him. "Besides, they taste great." He nodded half-heartedly as he chewed.
"It has a...unique flavor." He said once he swallowed. She rolled her eyes.
"Well, I like them." Their eyes met. His eyes wandered to her mouth, his lips parted slightly. She blushed, turning away and flipping on the TV. "S-so what do you-...What do you want to watch?" She asked nervously. He leaned back, resting his arms around the back of the couch.
"Whatever. You pick." She flipped to a movie called 'St. Elmo's Fire'. After an hour or two of watching the antics of the recent college graduates, he slowly tugged the remote away from her and turned the TV off.
"Hey! I was-" she started, but his arm was around her shoulder, pulling her closer. He tipped her chin to look at him, his gaze hot. She closed her eyes. He leaned in and kissed her gently, slowly, each long kiss punctuated by smaller kisses. A warm feelng spread from her stomach to all over her body, her skin tingling. She felt herself being leaned back until she was laying down on the couch. He was heavy, but comfortably so. He pulled back, taking in her flushed face. He stroked her cheek with his left hand.
"You are so pretty..." He whispered huskily, his other hand stroking the top of her head. She squeezed her eyes shut as she put her hands on his shoulder. He trailed kisses across her jaw and down her neck. She felt him tugging on her blouse.
"Lyle.." She whimpered. "Stop...Please..."
"It's all right. We're engaged." He breathed into her collarbone. She shivered. It was hard to think with his weight on her. She didn't know whether to push him away or pull him closer. Then there was a sharp, stinging tug on her shoulder. She cried out in pain, her eyes flyng open. He sat up quickly, a smear of blood on his lower lip. She pulled her collar away, which was easy considering that he had managed to unbutton her blouse without her knowing. A small oval of centimeter-long cuts under her right collarbone were oozing droplets of blood, some leaving vivid red streaks as they ran down her skin. The skin around them was already turning red.
"You bit me?" She was more shocked than angry.
"I-I'm sorry!" He said, wiping her blood off his mouth "I-I just...got...carried away." He avoided her eyes. She sighed and sat up.
"I'm not mad. Really, I'm not." She got up and went to the bathroom.
"Where are you going?" He called.
"I need a bandage." While she was applying an extra-large Bad-Aid to her shoulder area, Lyle came in and leaned against the doorway of the bathroom. He had a sorry, hangdog expression. She buttoned her blouse and turned to face him. "Do we have to have this conversation again?" She said desperately, wringing her hands. He looked down and pushed off the doorway.
"No, we don't." He muttered. "You've explained, in detail, why you won't move in with me or why I can't move in with you." She blushed.
"I also think we should wait until our wedding night." She said briskly as she straightened her shirt. He looked up at her.
"So that's your honest opinion?" He asked, taking another step into the bathroom.
"It jsut seems appropriate." She said. He studied her, lips pursed in thought.
"Maybe you're right. Maybe we should wait. It's not like we won't have time for it once we're married." He reached out and pulled her into an embrace. She relaxed, feeling safe in his arms. "You know I would never hurt you intentionally." He whispered into the top of her head. She closed her eyes.
"I know." She said confidently. "You're not a violent person, Lyle."