Reforming Jane

by Maggie Carpenter

  Gripping his arms, she sucked in the air, and finally felt herself beginning to calm down.

  “There,” he said, letting out a long breath himself. “Tea? Would you like to have a sip of tea?”

  She nodded. Releasing her, he handed her the cup and gratefully watched her take a drink.

  “I am so sorry I’ve upset you so much,” he said again. “I thought you—”

  “H-Henry, you d-don’t…”

  “Don’t what?”

  Her hand shaking, she placed her cup back on the table then wiped her fingers across her wet face.

  “B-Bernie, h-he was s-so good t-to me…” she stammered.

  “I know, in his own way, it’s obvious he was,” Henry nodded, not sure why she was talking about her former mentor. “Please… can you just tell me that you don’t hate me?”

  “Hate you?” she exclaimed, his question shocking her into finding her voice. “Henry, I love you to pieces. What you did…” she continued, feeling a fresh surge of heat in her throat, “it was so big, you went to such lengths to show me the real mess my life is. I never thought… I never thought…”

  “You never thought what?”

  “I never thought… a man… like you,” she whispered, gulping back the new tears, “c-could, would, ever love s-someone like me, let alone do s-so much.”

  “Jane! Oh, my God!”

  Jumping to his feet, he pulled her up and held her tightly against him, then still grasping her around the waist, he used his free hand to tilt up her chin.

  “You mean someone who has more grey cells than most of the so-called geniuses that I work with every day?” he softly asked, locking her eyes. “Someone who has the courage of a lioness, someone who is incredibly insightful, someone who is unbelievably generous and kind, someone who makes me smile every time she walks into a room?”

  “You think all that?” she whispered, searching his eyes. “You really do?”

  “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t,” he murmured. “You are spectacular, and I love you, and…”

  “And?”

  “And enough talking.”

  Sweeping her up, he carried her into his bedroom, laid her on the bed, then hastily pulled off his clothes. Undressing her, layer by layer, he kissed her skin as it was exposed, all the while telling her beautiful she was, and how he adored her. When she was finally naked, he lay on top of her. Curling his fingers around hers, he held them at the sides of her head.

  “I want you to listen to me very carefully,” he said tenderly, “and I never want you to forget this moment. Understood?”

  “Okay.”

  “I meant what I said—I love you, Jane Campbell. I want you in my life, and I want you to stay in my life. I want to take care of you, and protect you, and you must never doubt how special you are ever again. Are we clear?”

  “Yes, Henry,” she murmured, “but I still can’t believe it. Bernie loved me, he was the first one who showed me love, but you, this, what’s happened between us, it’s just so unbelievable.”

  “Believe it, and if I need to spank it into you, I will. Got it?”

  She smiled, then sighed and slowly nodded her head.

  “Good, that’s settled, and now I’m going to kiss you very hard.”

  And he did, with passion and ardor. Softening the pressure, he suckled her lower lip, then released it and slipped his tongue between her teeth to eagerly explore her mouth, withdrawing to drift his lips softly over hers, and pulling back for just a moment before crushing her mouth with his urgent need. When he began to kiss his way across her body, she was lost in an engulfing hunger to have him inside her. Lifting her legs, she wrapped them around his back, urging him to send his stiff member inside her. As he paused to reach for a condom she groaned a complaint, but he was back in an instant, lowering himself over her and thrusting forward. Taking hold of her hands, he held them tightly as he pumped, sending his lips to her neck then up to her ear.

  “It’s so good with you,” he whispered, “better than it’s ever been anyone. You make me feel so fucking alive.”

  “Me too,” she bleated, “every time, it’s so good. I love how you feel, how you touch me, how you kiss me.”

  She felt him accelerate, and as he gripped her fingers, she gripped his back. Closing her eyes, she lost herself in their coupling, letting the tide of feeling carry her into her orgasm. He was groaning through his climax, and his mouth fell on hers as she cried out in ecstasy, kissing her until the euphoric moment passed, and still holding her hands, he rested his weight on top of her. Breathless, they stayed still, relishing the joy of the moment, until he released her hands and rolled onto his side, pulling her with him.

  “This is not just a dream, right?”

  “It’s no dream, and if it is, I have no intention of ever waking up.”

  “Me either,” she sighed, then suddenly exclaimed, “Oh, no!”

  “What is it?”

  “We have to go,” she said urgently, abruptly moving off the bed. “We have to go right now.”

  “Why, what’s wrong?”

  “You left a pot of salted water on the stove for the pasta. It could have boiled dry.”

  Grabbing her sweater, she started pulling it over her head, but he grabbed her wrist and yanked her back onto the bed.

  “Aaaarggh! What are you doing? The house could burn down.”

  “Screw the house.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “You’re right, I don’t,” he said soberly, “but you’re not going anywhere, and neither am I, not until we’re clear about something.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure; the pot can scald. I’ll buy a new one. No more criminal activity, no more hustling, correct?”

  “No, no, no! I promise. That whole episode today, it scared the bejesus out of me. It could just as easily have been the real thing. I didn’t realize that I live my life worried all the time. It came to me when I was soaking in that bath. I guess I was so used to looking over my shoulder, I’d gotten used to it.”

  “We need to do something about your house and all the valuables there. We need to make sure you’re safe. I don’t know how to do that.”

  “I do,” she said firmly. “I know exactly what to do. Can we check on the pot now? It’s stressing me out.”

  “We can,” he smiled. “We’ll figure this out over dinner.”

  To Jane’s relief, the water in the saucepan was still bubbling away. Too tired to get dressed, they donned robes and began puttering around the kitchen preparing dinner. Henry was pouring the pasta sauce into a bowl to heat in the microwave, when Jane paused setting the table and stared across at him.

  “Henry, how did you know I was at Wetherby’s?”

  “Ah, yes,” he said, nodding his head. “We haven’t talked about all that. When I went for a run, I was heading out the door when I realized I hadn’t changed into my jogging shoes. I’d already opened the front door, and I decided to pop back up to give you another kiss goodbye, and on my way up the stairs I heard you on the phone.”

  “Then you knew I was at the airport?”

  “I did. When I was jogging I got the idea to fake your arrest and when I asked my friends to help me, they suggested I take it a step further and do the search warrant.”

  “That’s what really brought it home,” she murmured. “It was a double whammy. Which was worse? The police, or creeps who wanted to case my house? But Henry, why did you pretend to confront them when you arrived? I told you I was in hiding.”

  “You have a camera over your front porch. There was a strong possibility you were watching, and Jane, why don’t you have an alarm?”

  “I do, but it kept going off so I don’t turn it on anymore.”

  “What good is an alarm if you never use it?”

  She didn’t answer, but looked at him sheepishly.

  “Will you please get it fixed? I’ll pay for it if you need help.”

  “I don’t need help,” s
he said confidently, “but getting back to what happened, were your friends following me?”

  “No, they just showed up at the restaurant. If you had gone somewhere else, we wouldn’t have known where you were, and speaking of the airport, how did you get that bruise?”

  “You might not like this story,” she admitted, “but I’d do the same thing again.”

  “Try me.”

  As Jane relayed what had happened with the woman and baby, and tripping the man to delay him, Henry listened as he poured them some wine.

  “Another good deed,” he sighed, handing her a glass. “I hope you didn’t jump to the wrong conclusion, but I can’t fault your heart.”

  “I know what I saw, but more than that, I trusted what I felt, and, uh, there is something else.”

  “Something else?”

  “Uh… yes, and I’m surprised it hasn’t occurred to you,” she muttered, sipping the wine.

  “Did you steal the man’s wallet?”

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” she said defensively, raising her eyebrows. “I plan on giving it to some friends of mine.”

  “I see. Friends who might deliver it with a warning not to beat up women?”

  “Something like that.”

  “I… don’t know quite what to say about that,” he frowned. “I don’t condone violence.”

  “What if I told them no fists, no punching, just a very deadly sounding threat?”

  “Will they listen to you?”

  “Yes, yes, they will.”

  “You’re sure.”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “All right,” he said, sighing resignedly, “but do some checking about him first, make sure he really is a bad guy.”

  “I always do. I’ll know in five minutes if he shoplifted a candy bar when he was ten. I have a friend who can check out his police record.”

  “Of course you do,” Henry said, shaking his head, then walking over to her, he kissed her softly.

  “You know I’m going to make this transition as easy for you as I possibly can.”

  “I know.”

  “I have a feeling your checkered past will come in handy one of these days,” he grinned, “and when that I happens, I’m sure I’ll be very glad of it. Since we’re talking about all this, what’s your idea for your house and all those treasures?”

  “I want to move them out of there, put them somewhere safe, and either lease the house, or even sell it, and move to a new place.”

  “Jane! That is an excellent idea!”

  “As long as I’m there I’ll feel attached to, uh, that life, a hustler’s life. There are some things I’ll take with me, things I’m attached to, but there are other pieces that I don’t really care about. I might find them new homes, or sell them and use the money to help someone.”

  “Get some boxes and packing stuff, and start tomorrow with the most valuable items. Bring them here. We can keep the boxes in the spare room until you figure out what’s what, and mark the boxes on the outside so you know what’s in them. It’s important to keep a precise inventory.”

  “You think?” she said, looking at him as if he was a prize idiot.

  “Sorry, sorry,” he said quickly. “I’m used to dealing with geniuses who have no common sense.”

  “It’s okay,” she said with a smile, “and I think our pasta should be ready by now. It might even be mush.”

  “One more thing,” he said firmly. “You’re staying here until you find a new place. I know you’ve been safe in that house up until now, but you’ve been living on borrowed time, and you know it. If you go back there I’ll be sleeping with one eye open waiting for you to call me from your secret room in the middle of the night.”

  “Are you quite finished?”

  “Was I carrying on a bit too much?”

  “A bit,” she twinkled. “Now please feed me, I’m starving.”

  “But you will stay?”

  “Absolutely,” she said softly, “until I find someplace else.”

  “Right,” he nodded.

  He kissed her again, then held her tightly, and they both knew she’d be going nowhere.

  Epilogue

  To Henry’s surprise, after carefully reviewing the documents relating to Jane’s house, his solicitor informed him that the paperwork was completely legitimate. The property and its contents belonged to one Jane Campbell, and buried in all the forms was another important piece of paper. It was in an envelope with Jane’s name scribbled across it. Somehow it had been misplaced, and opening it they discovered an official change of name.

  Jane Campbell had been born Nancy Redmond. It was a startling find, and since the paperwork had been filed just weeks before Bernie had passed away, the solicitor suggested the dying man had wanted to make sure there could be no question about Jane’s inheritance. He couldn’t leave his small fortune to a person who didn’t exist.

  When Henry met with Jane’s accountant, Bill Hammond, he found him to be pleasant and articulate, though Henry could sense the man was still plagued with guilt and shame about the mistake he’d made years before. In spite of his criminal record, Bill had managed to build up a decent business, and when he perused the accounts, Henry saw nothing that raised a red flag. Bill received a monthly fee as a direct deposit from an account Bernie had left in place, and the amount Bill could access to cover the house expenses each month was capped. If there were any additional expenses, they had to be authorized by Jane. Henry was impressed, and wondered why a man as smart and thorough as Bernie had chosen a life of crime, a question to which he suspected he’d never know the answer.

  Jane had finished boxing up the valuables, and as she wandered around the home, even though the furniture was still in place, it felt empty. Even the secret room, with its makeup mirror, monitors, cot, and antique secretary, felt strange to her with nothing on the shelves or in the drawers.

  “So,” Henry asked, standing in the middle of the small space, “your hiding place. I’d keep it quiet. You never know if you might need it someday.”

  “I think you’re right,” she murmured.

  “Of course, if you sell the house, you should tell the buyers.”

  She ambled around for a moment, then sat on the edge of the cot.

  “I’m going to lease it,” she said firmly.

  “You’ll get a decent rent. This is a great area.”

  “I could, you’re right, but it’s not going to be that kind of lease.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” he grinned. “What’s running around that head of yours?”

  “Sit next to me, kiss me passionately, and I might tell you.”

  * * *

  Two weeks later, a tired woman named Meredith Baker flopped down on the worn sofa and kicked off her shoes. She’d have to leave shortly to pick up her young daughters, Penny and Patricia, from school. The restaurant at which she worked as a waitress had been overwhelmingly busy, but it always was when the holidays loomed. She made extra money, but it was exhausting, and she almost ignored the knock at the door, but a good Samaritan would leave her baskets of food, sometimes containing money. She couldn’t risk leaving it on the front step; the hooligans in the neighborhood would swoop down in seconds. Sighing heavily, she rose to her feet, quickly covering the small space; opening the door, she was surprised to see a well-groomed man dressed in an expensive thick wool coat.

  “Mrs. Baker?”

  “Yes, I’m Mrs. Baker,” she replied, immediately worried that something had happened to one of her daughters.

  “Please don’t be alarmed,” the man said kindly. “I am the bearer of what I hope you’ll see as good news. Here’s my card.”

  Taking it from his hand, she read William Hammond, Financial Planning.

  “Are you sure you have the right Mrs. Baker? I’m not in need of financial planning.”

  “Yes, I’m sure. I represent a mutual friend.”

  “Please, come in,” she said, still a bit wary. “I don’t have m
uch time. I have to fetch my girls from school.”

  “I’m sure you’re a very busy lady, so I’ll get right to the point. I have a client who has often left you care packages.”

  “Those packages and baskets have been a lifesaver,” she exclaimed. “How can I thank your client?”

  “Ah, well, there might be a way,” Bill smiled. “My client owns a very nice home in Hampstead, and it’s empty. She doesn’t want to lease or sell it, and she was hoping you’d housesit for her.”

  “Hampstead? That’s such a lovely area, but starting when, and for how long? I don’t know how I’d commute to work, and there’s the school…”

  “This would not be a short-term arrangement, this would be long-term, basically for as long as you wish. My client understands this would be quite an inconvenience, so she will cover all moving expenses and the utility bills, until you find a suitable position in the area, and there’s an excellent school just a few blocks from the house. This will all be formalized in a written agreement of course, outlining her expectations and the extent of your responsibilities.”

  “I, uh…”

  “I’m sure this is quite a shock, but my client has witnessed your struggle for going on two years now.”

  “I don’t understand. Why is she being so good to me? What have I done to have a stranger be so kind?”

  “A stranger helped her once,” Bill replied, softening his voice, hoping he sounded less formal, “and she’s passing it along. She also wanted me to tell you that she greatly respects and admires you.”

  “She does?”

  “She does, and she has this empty house and doesn’t know what to do with it. She sees this as an opportunity for you both. A win/win, if you will.”

  “What can I say? I’m just a bit, uh, flustered by all this.”

  “If I may make a suggestion?”

  “Yes, please!”

  “Why don’t we pick up your girls in my car, and I can drive you over to the house so you can see it. If you think it’s suitable, I’ll give you the agreement and you can take your time to look it over and let me know your decision. How does that sound?”