Just Jayne

by Ripley Proserpina

  The blood drained from my face, leaving me lightheaded, and my voice caught. He was right. What had I been doing? “I’m sorry.”

  I ran inside, past Mrs. Foster who met me at the door and straight upstairs to the nursery.

  The little girl was inside, her collection of gems beside her as she studied a book about minerals, rocks, and precious stones. It was her favorite, and she’d already gotten one of the guys to order her more.

  “Sorry,” she said when I appeared. “Uncle Lee told me to come right up here.”

  “I’m glad you listened,” I said, unwinding my scarf and shrugging out of my coat. Even with the sun, the day had been cool and the wind, brutal. The few times it had died down both of us had stripped out of our coats, but all it took was one good gust and back on they went.

  “Are we done?” she asked.

  “For today. Mrs. Foster will have dinner soon.” Her hands were dirty, and when I glanced down at mine, I saw they were the same. That’s what you got when you played outside. “Let’s wash our hands and then we’ll be ready.”

  Sophie sighed, a huge put-upon sigh that only an eight year-old could make, but followed my directions. Soon, she was back cataloging and examining her rocks.

  “I’m going to clean up,” I said.

  “Will you keep the doors open?” she asked.

  I stopped on my trek to my room. It wasn’t a strange request, but it was unusual for her. Unlike a lot of children her age, she seemed to like her privacy. She closed the doors between our rooms, even at night. “Sure,” I answered. “Are you okay?”

  She stopped her work for a moment and side-eyed me. “I guess.”

  I went back to her desk and knelt beside her. “I can keep the doors open, and if you want, you can do your work in my room while I clean up.”

  Turning in her seat, she studied my face. She was such an intuitive kid, and way more tuned-in to expressions and intentions than she should be. Her vigilance worried me, because I’d seen it before.

  I’d been the same way.

  And it sort of broke my heart to think anything had happened to her to make her that way.

  “Did something happen?” I asked.

  Sophie nodded. “There’s yelling,” she whispered, and leaned her head closer to mine. “And laughing. It scares me.”

  I settled back on my heels, sighing in relief. Laughing and yelling. That could definitely be attributed to the guys. I’d heard them arguing on more than one occasion.

  “Okay,” I said. “Well, do you want help bringing your work into my room?”

  “No,” she replied, placing the book on her lap and then sliding all the gems onto the pages. She shut it to keep them from spilling and then stood up. “I got it.”

  Pretty soon I had her settled on my bed, and she was happily cataloging her treasures. I grabbed clean clothes from my dresser and went into the bathroom where I stood under the hot water until the feeling came back into my numb fingers and toes. I wondered what it would be like in the winter here.

  Maybe if it didn’t rain tomorrow, Sophie and I could explore the land a little. I wanted to see if it was as flat and treeless as the howling wind made me suspect.

  It didn’t take me long to get ready. I slid on a pair of jeans and then tucked my blouse into the waist. My wet hair I pulled back from my face and twisted into a low bun. Wet, my hair was darker and it made my pale skin appear even paler. In fact, I had a little bit of a goth-look going with light purple circles under my eyes.

  Moisturizer. Chapstick. I was done.

  “Soph,” I said as I opened the door. “I was thinking about going for a hi…” I trailed off. She wasn’t alone. Klaus was on my bed with her. Both of them were on their bellies, and they glanced up from their book when I spoke. “Hi,” I said, lamely.

  “Klaus is making a list,” she told me, “of all the gems I need. You didn’t have very many.”

  Klaus went back to the book, pointedly ignoring me.

  “There are literally millions of gems and precious stones,” I replied.

  “That’s why I am making a list, little teacher,” Klaus replied. “So we can begin to collect these literal millions of rocks.” One side of his mouth lifted. “Do you have any suggestions about where to start?”

  “I already showed you.” The little girl got to her knees and sighed. “Start with the sparkly ones.”

  Klaus chuckled and I saw a dimple appear in one cheek.

  “You heard her,” I said. “Start with the sparkly ones. But if it was me…”

  Soph glanced at me, eyes wide. “Which ones would you get?”

  I padded over the thick carpet to the bed and stood on my tiptoes to see the book. “Do you mind if I…?”

  Klaus sat back and pushed it toward me. I flipped through the pages until I found what I wanted. “The black opal. It looks like there’s fire inside it.” I tapped the picture on the page. “If it was me, that’s what I would search for.”

  “That looks cool,” Sophie admitted. She went back to her belly and traced her finger along the stone. “You can put that on the list, Klaus.”

  “What else?” he asked suddenly. “Out of all the stones in the book. What else would you want?”

  “After a black opal?” I laughed. “Nothing quite so fancy. I like tiger’s eye.”

  “I don’t have that,” she said. “Put it on the list.”

  “Please,” I prompted, and she rolled her eyes.

  “Please, put it on the list, Klaus.”

  “You got it, liebling.” I saw him write down tiger’s eye with a flourish before he tucked the paper in his pocket. “What have you got up to? Besides building castles?” He looked at me as he spoke, even though the question was for Sophie.

  “I don’t know,” she replied absently, flipping through the pictures.

  “Must have been memorable if you don’t know.”

  My face heated, and I looked away before walking to the armoire to remove a pair of flats. I slid my feet inside, but I could feel his gaze on my back. “Why don’t you tell him about what you’re reading, Sophie?” I asked, quietly.

  “Oh! Klaus!” Her voice went high and excited, and I smiled to myself. “It’s about this boy, and everything he touches turns to chocolate. You’d love it. Let me go get it. I’ll read my favorite part to you!”

  Her feet made a soft thump against the carpet as she jumped off the bed, but instead of going to the nursery, she walked to me. When she touched my elbow, I leaned down so she could whisper, “Will you come with me?”

  “Why don’t you run along like a big girl?” Klaus called and her face flushed. Her eyes held mine, begging that I not tell him she was feeling afraid.

  “I think I put it up high,” I called and taking her hand, quickly led the way into the nursery. Her book was right where we’d left it on the deep window seat that looked out to the courtyard.

  “No, you didn’t,” he said from behind us. Sophie squealed and jumped. When I turned, he was glaring at me. “Sophie, go downstairs to Mrs. Foster. I want to talk to Miss Burns alone.”

  She squeezed my hand, gaze beseeching. I squeezed her hand back, and she let go before running out of the room.

  “Sophie is a lot of things, Miss Burns, but she’s not a liar,” he said as soon as the door closed behind her.

  “No, she’s not,” I replied.

  He approached me, bristling with anger. His bright blue eyes were narrowed and his jaw set. Klaus was a tall man and broad shouldered with arms that were thickly roped by muscle. When he stood over me, I had to stretch my neck to meet his gaze. “It bothers me, more than you can imagine, that you’re encouraging her to keep secrets from her family.”

  I lifted my hand to rub my temple but he stopped me, gripping my hand and squeezing hard.

  “It also bothers me to find Sophie in your room, when she should be in hers.”

  This was one of those situations that would have no winner. Sophie’s fear, to an adult, was no big deal. But
to her, in her little heart, it was something she was ashamed of. And Klaus? He wasn’t only angry, but freaked out. Like most parents, his brain had probably created a hundred nefarious intentions and assigned them all to me.

  “Sophie is afraid of her room because she’s heard yelling and laughing. But she doesn’t want you to know for some reason.”

  Klaus’s face went white and he stepped back. “She’s heard what?”

  “It’s an old house,” I explained. “And she’s little. If she hears you guys arguing, or… whatever… at night, she doesn’t think, ‘oh that’s my dad,’ she thinks it’s something else. I’m sure it’s just a phase, but I don’t mind leaving the doors open and letting her do her work or play in my room if it makes her more comfortable.”

  As I spoke, his hands went behind his head, fingers linking as he stretched his neck to look at the ceiling. “Scheisse.”

  “It’s not a big deal,” I assured him. “But you’re right. I should have encouraged her to talk to you. It was wrong of me to keep her secret. I’m not her parent.”

  “She’s afraid?” he said. He turned away from me and went to the window seat where her book was. He picked it up and began to thumb through it. “Soph has always been independent. She took care of herself for a long time, and she’s faced a lot scarier things than—” He stopped himself.

  After half a beat, I moved to sit next to him. The window seat was long, so there was space between us, but I was close enough to see the worry in his eyes.

  “Would you tell me?” I asked. “I want to do the right thing, and if she has a… history… that may come up in different ways, I’d like to know.”

  “It’s not your business and has no effect on her education.” He stood up and paced the room before returning to me. “Your focus is on math. Not her mental state.”

  How could I explain to him that a child’s emotions and their history often impacted their education? Klaus was so reactive. One minute he was protective and the next, on the attack.

  And he clearly didn’t trust me.

  “Okay,” I replied. “If you change your mind, I’ve signed a million clauses to ensure I keep all that information to myself.” I smiled, but he didn’t smile back.

  “Jayne,” he said, almost to himself. “With your plain face and your unassuming clothes. Don’t think for a minute I don’t see you’re like every other woman in the world.”

  Everyone had a limit and I’d reached mine. “You don’t have to trust me, Mr. Schiefer, but don’t insult me.”

  I jumped off the seat and raced through the nursery back to my room before he could see the tears in my eyes. As I entered my room, I turned. He was standing right there, eyes wide and face serious. His gaze dropped to my cheeks. Shit.

  Before he could say a word, I shut the door in his face and turned the lock.

  12

  Klaus

  I barely held back from punching the wall.

  Why had I said that? To insult Jayne after—all she wanted to do was protect Sophie.

  My gaze went to the ceiling, and I listened hard. Laughing. Footsteps. Screams.

  I heard nothing, but a meeting with Grace was inevitable. We were only safe when we nipped things in the bud.

  Like this growing attraction I felt to Jayne.

  I might not have been the one who wrote the lyrics in this band, but I recognized what I was feeling.

  I didn’t think the little teacher was plain. That was a lie.

  I’d never seen anyone as beautiful and as pure as her. And the pain on her face… It spoke to me. It reached right into my heart and squeezed. I knew that pain.

  I felt it myself.

  I knew what it was to be disappointed and broken and then have that brokenness thrown in your face over and over.

  Just like I did to her.

  But she was tough. She’d gone toe-to-toe with me and stripped me down to the bone with her honesty.

  Tennyson had warned me, but I hadn’t believed him. She seemed too quiet. Too kind. Too shy.

  Until she needed to be strong. And blunt. And direct.

  And then she was.

  13

  Jayne

  It didn’t take me long to get myself together. Hurt feelings were the least of the injuries I’d had to recover from, and Klaus wasn’t the first asshole to make me cry.

  Dinner would be soon, and I had enough pride that I didn’t want Klaus thinking his words sent me into a tailspin.

  Even if they did.

  I was strong enough to pull myself out of it.

  Unable to delay the inevitable any longer, I opened my bedroom door and stumbled to a stop. Klaus sat outside. His back was to the wall as he sat, legs splayed in front of him on the floor. He stood quickly and took a step toward me.

  “I apologize, Jayne,” he said. “That was… There’s no excuse for my behavior.”

  Turning my back on him, I put the key in the lock and turned it. “It’s fine.”

  I felt him step closer. The heat of his body warmed my back, and his breath tickled my neck. “It’s not fine, Jayne.”

  My eyes shut at the sound of his low voice, and I leaned my forehead against the cool wood. God, I wanted to step back into his heat. Releasing a shaky breath, I pulled myself together and took a step to the side, away from him.

  He let me move away, though his fists clenched next to his legs, the muscles in his thick arms twisting with the movement.

  “It’s not anything I haven’t heard before, and it’s nothing I won’t hear again.”

  “It wasn’t even the truth, Jayne,” he said.

  I had to laugh. “Klaus, please. Stop. Let’s go eat and pretend this whole thing never happened.”

  “I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen. Hiding things and pretending things. I don’t want to do that anymore.” He grabbed my arm, his fingers banding around me. His grip was firm but not painful. He was earnest, and he needed me to forgive him.

  “You were being honest, Klaus,” I said. “If you don’t want to pretend, then don’t pretend it wasn’t the truth. I’m not even sure why it matters to you how I feel.” I hadn’t meant to say the last part out loud, and when I did, he dropped my arm and stepped away.

  Then he spun and left.

  I leaned my back against the door and sighed. These guys made my head spin. They were more emotional than the fifty teenage girls I’d spent my adolescence with. Something about me bothered them. Maybe I didn’t treat them the way they were used to being treated.

  I made a mental note to talk to Mrs. Foster about it. Sophie was an amazing student, and I didn’t want to leave her.

  Not yet.

  So if I wanted to stay, I had to figure out what I was doing wrong—and fix it.

  It was only me, Sophie and Mrs. Foster at dinner. Somehow, in the three minutes it took me to get downstairs, the band, and their manager had left.

  Something about a last minute photo shoot.

  We ate dinner quietly. The sunshine and fresh air had exhausted my student, and by the end of dinner, her eyes were heavy and she was almost asleep.

  Together, Mrs. Foster and I got her upstairs to bed and tucked in.

  “Join me downstairs?” Mrs. Foster asked as we closed and locked her bedroom door.

  “Let me get something from my room,” I said, and quickly unlocked my door to gather my sketchpad and pencils.

  Mrs. Foster made tea and brought it into the library. I found a seat next to the window where there was still a little natural light and began to sketch.

  “How are you liking the job so far?” she asked me as she leafed through a magazine.

  “I like it a lot. Sophie is wonderful.” My gaze followed the movement of my pencil as I spoke. I didn’t have a picture in my mind when I began to draw, but soon the shape became familiar.

  “She’s a lot like her mother,” Mrs. Foster said.

  “Who was her mother?” I asked. “It’s not in the file.”

  “You wouldn’t know
her, but she’s a bit of a muse in the music world. One of those types who pass from musician to musician.”

  It sounded like she was describing a groupie, but I kept that thought to myself.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” she went on. “But she wasn’t a groupie. She was poised and talented in her own way. I think she may have been a dancer. Anyway, she spent a while with the band before she moved on. They didn’t learn about Sophie for a few years.”

  The way she described it, it sounded as if the girl was related to them. But the lawyer had told me she was adopted. I’d made the jump from adoption to… not biological.

  How did that even work? I wanted to ask Mrs. Foster more, but we weren’t quite there yet. What happened to Soph’s mom? And whose daughter, specifically, was she? They were millionaire rock stars. There was no way someone hadn’t done a paternity test. That squad of lawyers would have insisted on it.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Mrs. Foster sighed, and I glanced up from my sketch. She regarded me, eyebrows raised with a wry turn to her lips. “Must I explain to you how these things happen, Jayne? You’re an educated woman, surely you can figure it out.”

  I laughed. “I mean—I thought she was adopted.”

  “She is. By Diego. But she could be any of their daughters.”

  Oh.

  Oh. Thinking of Sophie’s mother, I said without thinking, “Good for her.” Mrs. Foster burst out laughing when I dropped my pencil and buried my face in my hands. “I don’t know why I said that out loud.”

  The older woman continued to laugh, wiping away tears from beneath her eyes. “I’ll confess to having the same thought myself!” she said.

  Diego appeared in the doorway, smiling. “What’s so funny?”

  “Jayne,” she replied. “Oh!” She grasped her side. “I have a stitch now!”

  I hadn’t spent much time at all with Diego. As he came inside the library, I studied him, looking for similarities between him and Sophie. Of all the guys, I thought he was the closest to her coloring and appearance. They both had long curly hair, and dark bright eyes.