Jewels of the Past by Jynelle (7 ebook reader .TXT) 📕

this moment Landen came back carrying a tray of an elaborate coffee pot, complete with two cups. He set the tray down on the mini bookcase we kept in the front hall, hurriedly and yet so gracefully to not spill the scalding liquid, and led me to the parlor across the hall from the dining room. It was there I fell onto the only sofa in the room, and cried. I cried until I couldn’t cry any longer. Landen had left me to my grief, most likely to allow Anita to see what lay beyond the dining room doors. I had already forbidden him to see what was in that room and I trusted him enough to obey me under even the direst of circumstances.

The image of seeing nothing but human bits and blood in such a small space had made me sick when I first saw it. His head was placed on the crystal candelabra he had bought for Christmas last year, which was placed in the middle of our fairly small dining table. It only seated four people, since we weren’t the kind of couple to hold extravagant parties. His head was really the only distinguished part of him left intact, his eyes wide in terror, and his mouth open so big it was if his jaw was broken so he could get out whatever it was he trying to shout, or gurgle; everything else was torn to bits and thrown in such a way that whatever did it had a hay day of throwing my husband’s body bits in celebration. Nothing in the room was left untouched of blood, and the smell was so strong it could’ve choked a cow. How Ms. Blake didn’t notice it was beyond me. I had gotten used to the smell, and Landen couldn’t smell.

It was in the final moments of my hysteria did I remember something someone said from my childhood.

“The monsters are out there, and I’m going to kill them all. You may not believe me, but one day you will. When that day comes, I won’t be around to save you no matter how loud you cry for me.”

I shook my head, my face buried in the expensive satin fabric of the sofa. I could vaguely hear myself repeating, “I’m sorry.” To whom, I wasn’t sure, but it was there, and no one could hear me.

~*~ 4 ~*~

I watched, with great interest, the fireflies dancing just outside the parlor window. I had closed the window drapes during my hysteria, not wanting any possible murderers or paparazzi to witness my breakdown. That's all I needed at the moment. Tomorrow morning, on the stands, I'd love to see my face on the cover of some life-ruining magazine, the whole world reading about my husband's demise.

Now that the crying was all passed and done with, I had chanced opening the smallest wndow in the room, and that's when I noticed the little lightning bugs, all thoughts about being in a magazine gone from my mind. Somehow their ignorance of the violence and blood in my home had seemed to calm me down immensely. Adam had told me these little bugs held calming powers, and they were using it on me now.

I heard the parlor door open and watched from the reflection of the window as Anita Blake and someone else walked in. The second person, from what I could see from the darkened window, was about five inches taller than Anita, though I wasn't the best person for height estimation. From the window, he looked bald, but a faint fuzziness on his head was distinguishable, so I knew he wasn't. He wore very casual clothes: a regular T-shirt untucked over his regular jean pants. I couldn't tell the color of any of his clothing from the window, but I didn't think the color was really relevent. Had it been any other occasion, I would have had Landen toss this man out, but he looked like he was an assistant to Anita Blake, so I let it go.

"Mrs. Murray, I'd like you to meet Ted Forrester," Anita said as she closed the door.

I turned around, and my breath was nearly taken out from my body. Staring into those blue eyes that I had seen so many times before as a child, I knew Ted Forrester felt the same, yet he didn't show it.

Immediately he turned around and walked out the door, nearly slamming it as he closed it. Anita watched him go, then looked back at me, her mouth slightly open in confusion as she did so. I just stood there, staring at the spot where he used to stand. I felt myself smile slightly at the irony that, of all the occasions he could have had to return to my life, it was the night my husband was murdered.

"I'm sorry," I heard Anita say carefully. I looked at her. "I've never seen him do that before." She narrowed her eyes at me, but all I could do was stand there, dumbfounded. "Are you okay?"

I blinked furiously and shook my head. Smiling, I said, "Must be my appearance. I'd run from me, too, if I were him."

~*~ 5 ~*~

It was a bright, summer day, and there wasn't a child who wasn't on the metal jungle gym. Either it wasn't as hot as it could have been, or everyone just too preoccupied to notice if the metal was too hot. I certainly don't remember going home with any blisters, or even a sunburn. But the sun and heat weren't what I recall of that day anyway. What was significant about that day was that it was the day I had first met my oldest and dearest friend, Jack. It wasn't the first day of school, but it was for him. I remember running after my friends, being "it" in tag, and seeing him standing there, watching us. I remember stopping in front of him, and marveled at the bright blue that occupied his eyes. I had never seen any eyes that color, and, as a six year old, they captivated me.

"Hi," I said. I wasn't shy, and I loved meeting new people. It was both a curse and a blessing that I uttered this simple greeting to him. It was how our complicated friendship began.

He blinked at me for a handful of seconds. I was about to walk away when he smiled at me, though it was a malicious smile. For a six year old, malicious was not something you'd expect.

"My parents died in a car crash last month," he told me. It frightened me slightly, but I felt sorry for him, though his smile did tell me that he wasn't asking for pity. I grabbed him and hugged him. I couldn't imagine losing my parents, and so I felt he needed some comforting. He stiffened as I held him, like he wasn't used to being touched, let alone embraced.

"I'll be your friend," I whispered in his ear. I know now that wasn't his objective, but it's what I would've wanted if my parents had died.

He seemed stunned for a few seconds, but quickly regained his composure, and shoved me away, knocking me to the ground.

"I don't need a friend," he said, his voice filled with a certain cruelty that no child should ever have. "Especially a girl friend." He practically spit the word "girl" out at me, and I was instantly hurt. I thought about crying, calling for a teacher to get this boy in trouble, but something about the way his cheeks burned red made me
leave him be.

I shrugged, and stood up, brushing my knees off of dirt, though my knees aren't what I fell on. I smiled at him, and went back to chasing after my friends.

Now, as I stared at Anita Blake, the eyes of Ted Forrester still imprinted in my mind, I smiled wider. Him walking out the room was just like him refusing my offer to be his friend all those years ago. I'll be the first to admit that seeing him again had certainly made me feel better. I wanted to run after him, throw my arms around him like I did that day on the playground.

Then it hit me. Anita introduced him as Ted Forrester, and not Jack Young. Why would he change his name? Jack was a fine name for him, but Ted? I'd never pin him as a Ted, but that's just me.

He had definitely grown in the last seven years since I saw him last. His body matured greatly, filling out in all the right places. I'll be the first to admit he was a scrawny individual, and to see his body muscular and looking just about perfect, I realized I was a little angry he waited until after he left to become more healthy. I was constantly trying to get him to eat and exercise for years, but he only ate if he absolutely had to, and his only exercise was walking to and from school.

"Mrs. Murray, if you would wait a moment, I'll go bring him back."

I blinked at Anita, whom I had nearly forgotten all together. I nodded, and decided it was for the best that she be the one to retrieve him. I would've found him and hugged him, as I have already said. She would find him, bring him back, and make sure there would be no human contact at all. I would keep my composure because she would be present, and it was probably for the best.

~*~ 6 ~*~

Unfortunately, Ms. Blake returned alone, saying her associate wanted to survey the perimeter of the house. My home is fairly large, so if he really was trying to avoid me, that would be the way to do it. While she was gone, I had time to realize that him not being here was a good thing. The last words spoken to each other have no doubt been remembered in his mind, and I have been regretting my words to him since I'd shouted them.

I stared at her and she stared back. I knew she wanted to ask what had just happened, but I really didn't want to go into detail about him just an hour after my husband's murder. I broke eye contact with her first and sat down on the sofa.

"Could you tell me what happened earlier today?" she asked me. She remained standing. I smiled slightly, relieved that she changed the subject that was floating around both our heads.

I nodded. "I hadn't seen Adam at all today," I began. "He left before I woke up this morning, which was odd for him, because he isn't a morning person. Today I spent the whole day by myself. I read and watered the garden outside."

"I thought you had a gardener for that?" Ms. Blake asked. "Why would you do his job?"

"I love to garden. I have a little vegetable patch out by the pond." The pond was Adam's guilty pleasure. He loved exotic fish. "Travis was hired to take care of the lawn and the trees. Mostly landscaping."

Ms. Blake nodded. "When did your husband return home?"

"About five. He told me to get dressed, because he was taking me out to dinner. He seemed rushed, which made me think that there was something going on. I wasn't sure what, but something in the way he wanted to leave in such a rush made me think something was going to happen."