Shaddyr's Eclectic Collection > Pretender Fanfiction > Oriana > To Dance in an English Garden
To Dance In An English
*Disclaimer: I don't own "The Pretender" or any of its characters. Also, this is a sequel to "Paper Snowflakes". Thanx! ~Oriana
_______________
Miss Parker slammed the front door behind her, and immediately regretted the action as the noise increased her headache. Tossing her keys on the hallway table, she made a beeline for a glass and the cold bottle of vodka in the kitchen, a welcome treat after the blazing July sun outside.With a moan she willingly curled up on the sofa, trying to mentally erase the entire day. She hadn't been sleeping well all week, and last night she'd only managed two hours. Lyle'd had the nerve to meet her right at the door to the Centre, and start in on his newest whining. They'd been bickering on and off all day, allowing just enough time for people to keep dropping paperwork off at her office. Around one, after taking her irritation out on Syd and Broots (more than usual) and downing enough aspirin to tranquilize an elephant, Parker decided it was time to go home before she killed someone (where was Brigitte when you needed her?).
Parker was just beginning to doze off when the cordless phone a few feet away began to ring. Much as she wanted to ignore it, the shrill ringing was killing her. Rubbing her temples, she walked over to the phone, picked it up and retreated back to the sofa before bothering to activate it.
"What?" she snapped.
An accented voice stuttered on the other end. "H-hullo? Um, you, you don't know me, b-but..."
Parker looked up to the ceiling and rolled her eyes. This lady was as much a stutterer as Broots. "If I don't know you, then how did you get this number? It's unlisted."
"I didn't--get your telephone number, that is...I mean, you were the first t-that..."
Parker was fed up with this. "I'm hanging up now--"
"No, wait! Please, it's very important." Parker hesitated just long enough for the other woman to continue. "There's a man here...he's not well. I believe you should know him--his name is Jarod."
Parker shot up, and ignored the shots of pain in her head, the other woman suddenly having her full attention. "Jarod? What is it? What's wrong with him?"
"Well, to be honest I don't know. None of us do. But his behavior...it has us all very concerned."
"Who's 'us'?"
"The other workers and I here at the Swan Inn of Lavenham."
Parker reached over for a pen and pad of paper, and quickly scribbled down the name. "I don't recognize the place. Which state is that?"
"State? Oh, you're mistaken. Lavenham is in England."
"England!" What the hell was Jarod doing in Europe?
"Y-yes miss. Eastern England, Essex County."
A thought came to Parker, and she asked urgently, "Did Jarod ask for you to call me?"
The Englishwoman replied a little guiltily. "Well, no, miss. If I've done anything wrong, I'm terribly sorry... "
"No," Parker quickly cut her off. "I'm appreciative, really. I was just wondering how you got my number, is all."
"Well, he left his cellular at his table after dinner last night. I went up this morning to give it to him along with his breakfast tray, and that's when I saw how bad he'd gotten."
"What do you mean?"
"He was pale, dark rings under his eyes. Seemed to be tremblin' a bit. Something told me to hang on to the phone. And then, later when I went to fetch his tray, I found it outside his door. Not a crumb of that food had been touched, miss. And I knocked on the door, to see if he needed anything else, but he didn't answer."
"Maybe he'd just gone out."
"No, miss. He hasn't left the inn since he arrived, two days ago. Anyhow, it got to me so much, I thought I'd try his speed dial, see if someone should come up here. And you're number one on his speed dial, so..."
"You were right to call. Listen, can you give me the inn number?"
"Of course. From the US you can dial 1-800-225-5843. Just ask for Mary, and I'll give you any help I can, miss."
"Okay, thank you. I'll call back in just a few minutes, all right?"
"Right, miss." Parker hung up, then reactivated the phone and dialed Sydney's number at the Centre. After two rings, he answered.
"Syd, it's me. We've got a problem..."
~~~~~~~~~
It had been a long and complicated trip, getting from Blue Cove to Lavenham. After driving to New York's JFK Airport, she'd flown overseas to England's Heathrow Airport, having to put up with some bratty kid kicking the back of her seat the whole way. From there, she'd had to catch the Heathrow Express to London, and find a cab to take her to the North Street Station. The train there took her to Colchester, then there was the connector to Sudbury. At Sudbury, she eventually found Beeston's Coaches, Ltd., which offered buses to Lavenham. Traveling from London to Lavenham alone took 2 1/2.By the time she arrived at the Swan Inn, exhausted and irritable, Parker had decided that if Jarod wasn't on his death bed, she was going to put him there.
"May I help you?" a kindly man offered as she tossed her luggage down next to the front desk.
"I certainly hope so," she sighed. "I'm looking for an employee of yours, Mary James."
A petite woman with mousy brown hair approached the desk. "Miss Parker?"
"Mary?"
"Yes, miss. I'm glad you've arrived."
"Where is he?" Parker asked, looking around expectantly.
"Upstairs still."
"Still?" she echoed in disbelief. "You mean he hasn't left at all since we last spoke?"
"That's right."
"But it's been nearly 24 hours!"
Mary nodded. "I'll take you up to his room." She led the way up to the second level, explaining as they went, "The second-story bedrooms open onto a tiny cloistered garden, so he requested one of those." Stopping at a door, she turned to Parker. "Here it is. I'll go downstairs and see to your luggage, miss. I've reserved the room next door for you, so I'll just leave the door unlocked."
"Thank you, Mary."
"Yes, miss." Mary headed off down the stairs. Parker took a deep breath, then knocked. No answer. Feeling increasingly concerned, she gave another knock, longer and louder. Still no answer.
"Jarod? Are you there?" There was no reply, but she could sense that he was inside. Trying the door, she was surprised to find it unlocked. Jarod was not the careless type.
Slowly, she opened the door and walked inside, shutting it softly behind her. The room was quite large, but was in a sort of L-shape, so that she couldn't see anything but the bed in front of her. It wasn't until she turned the corner that Jarod came into sight. He sat, with his face only partially in view, in one of two wicker chairs set down near the balcony. His eyes were in the direction of the garden, but he seemed unfocused. Jarod was just a few feet from Parker, but it felt like he was a thousand miles away.
For a moment, it seemed as if she couldn't even breath. She understood now why Mary and the others had been so concerned. His shoulders were slumped, his hair was unkempt, and it looked as if he hadn't changed in days.
It was his face that was the worst, though. His eyes, red and puffy, as though he'd been crying for hours on end, were hollow, completely lacking of that warm twinkle Parker had accepted as Jarod's signature. A thin stubble had begun on his chin.
"Oh, god...Jarod." Her voice was just above a whisper, and quivered. This person was nothing more than a shell of the man she knew. His troubled mind was tangible, making the air somehow seem thick.
At the sound of his name, he turned slightly in his chair. Jarod looked at her, but it was a moment before he actually focused, and really saw her. He didn't say anything, but his eyes began to water.
"Jarod...what's happened?" she whispered. She reached a hand out, and he jerked away. Parker withdrew her hand, and took a few steps back, wanting to give him room. Jarod turned his attention back to the garden, and his own brooding thoughts. Unsure of what to do next, she looked about the room, hoping for some sign of what had brought him to this point.
She gave a silent gasp when she spotted what was on the dresser. There, on its own, was a gun. Parker hurried over to it instantly, expertly checking the clip and relieved to find all bullets accounted for. Still, she was shook just by the sight of it. Jarod detested guns. It didn't make sense for him to have one right here in his room.
Trembling, and scared for Jarod like she'd never been before, Parker just stood, watching him. He was crying, not a loud sob, but quiet tears. She needed to do something, take action. She couldn't just stand here, watching her childhood friend fall apart.
Parker's mind raced over ideas, something, anything. Then her mind struck upon something. Before heading out the door, she said gently, "Jarod, I'm going downstairs, just for a moment. I promise I'll be right back."
He didn't reply, and as much as it hurt her, she hadn't expected much else. Moving quietly out of the room, she headed downstairs and found Mary.
"Mary, could you get a tray put together, and have it brought up to Jarod's room, please?"
"Of course, miss. Anything in particular?"
Miss Parker thought for a moment. "Nothing too heavy, I don't think. Some juice, a couple sandwiches, anything light."
"Right. I'll get it from the inn's cafe instead of the dining room. They've got a wider selection of light foods."
"Great. Has my luggage been taken up yet?"
"Yes, miss, your things have been placed on your bed." Parker nodded and turned to go, but Mary stopped her. In a low, confidential voice, she asked, "Is he any better?"
Parker sighed. "Honestly, I haven't a clue. In a way, I hope not. I'd hate to think that he was worse than this at some point." Wearily, she walked back upstairs, this time stopping in her own room. She didn't spare time to put her things away, just took out a very small jewelry box. Opening it, she withdrew the necklace Jarod had given her seven months ago, as a Christmas gift. Parker slipped it on, pulled her hair back into a ponytail (Lavenham was as hot as Blue Cove), grabbed her cell phone and headed back over to Jarod's room.
She opened the door, and was surprised to find Jarod curled up on the four-poster bed, sound asleep. Sighing and rubbing her temples (she was determined not to let a migraine divert her attention from the problem at hand), Parker closed the balcony doors and dragged one of the wicker chairs close to his bedside. Outside, it was nearing dusk, and the room was lit with the dulling light of the falling sun.
There was a gentle rap at the door, and Parker hurried to answer it before the noise awakened Jarod. After taking the food tray and thanking Mary with a silent nod, she slid the door shut, placed the tray on the dresser, and returned to her post.
Parker watched Jarod for nearly half an hour, the only illumination now from the old-fashioned lamp posts scattered throughout the garden outside. It was just enough to see his outline. A few times she indulged the need to place a hand on his side, just to make sure he was all right. He seemed so still, it frightened her. This was a sleep of utter exhaustion.
Finally, she reached for her cell phone, then walked to the farthest opposite corner of the room and dialed Syd's number, praying Jarod wouldn't hear the noise of the phone.
Syd didn't even give the phone half a ring before picking up. "Syd, it's me."
"Thank goodness. I've been worried. How's Jarod?"
With a shaken sigh, Parker replied, "I don't know, Syd."
"Well, have you been to see him?"
"Oh, yes. I'm in his room right now, watching him sleep."
"Have you two spoken?"
Parker gave a small, sad laugh. "I spoke. He just stared outside."
"That certainly doesn't sound promising," he remarked with concern. "Perhaps I should fly out there."
"No, that's not a good idea. Centre's two biggest workaholics taking vacations at the same time is bound to raise some suspicions. Besides, I need you to help out Broots. Try and figure out just what the hell happened."
"I have the feeling this isn't medical."
"Physically, I'd say a day of rest and plenty of good food would do it. But mentally..."
"Jarod's strong," he assured her. "I'm sure he'll pull through this." He was much more convincing than he felt.
After a pause, Parker replied, but her voice was shaky. "Easy for you to say. You're not here, Syd. God, he used to look so...young, innocent." He was surprised at the emotion in her voice. And, if he wasn't mistaken, she sounded as though she were on the verge of tears. "Now..." She stopped again, try to get control, but didn't succeed much. "I'm afraid to even leave him alone in the room. The way he is, I'm terrified he's going to slit his wrists or something."
"Jarod's been through hard times, but he's never seemed a likely candidate for suicide," he quickly pointed out.
"Yeah, and he's never been big on guns, either, yet there's one not but three feet from me." Sydney couldn't think of a reply to that. Her voice was quivering now, and her eyes were watering. "Listen to me, Syd. I need to know what's going on. Find out whatever it is--a pretend, maybe. Something's affecting him, affecting him badly. Call me when you get something." She deactivated the phone without waiting for his answer.
As she sat there with the phone in her hand, Jarod began to whimper in his sleep. Reaching forward, she brushed a reassuring hand across his forehead. "Shh, shh. It's okay, I'm here."
He settled down, became still again, but not for long. Soon he was crying out in his sleep once more, and as before she comforted him. And so the night continued on, as Parker kept her vigilance over Jarod.