Just Jayne

by Ripley Proserpina

  But then again, Lee also had dark eyes and dark hair.

  And Klaus was protective enough to be her father that was for sure.

  “What are you doing?” he asked me, staring at the sketchpad on the desk in front of me. He reached past me, snagging it before I could stop him. “Is this me?”

  It was. But I hadn’t meant to draw it, and I certainly hadn’t intended for him to see it.

  “It’s very good. You’ve made me much better looking than I am in real life.” He turned it around to show me, bringing it next to his face. I had taken some liberties with it. I’d drawn his hair as I’d seen it when we’d met in London and the wind had whipped it away from his face. And I’d drawn him smiling.

  There weren’t many photographs of it, but I couldn’t forget his smile when he’d seen Sophie.

  I reached for it, and he gave it back to me. Closing the book, I set it on my lap.

  “You like the art supplies?” he asked.

  “Very much,” I replied. “I told Mr. Chan to give you my thanks, but thank you, again. I love to draw.”

  “Can I see some of your work?” he asked, sliding into a chair next to me.

  In the small periods of time when I wasn’t teaching Soph, I drew, but still, I hesitated to show him my work. He was so immensely talented… Biting my lip, I handed the book to him and waited.

  He flipped through it slowly, examining each portrait. I tried to read his expression, but he seemed to shut down, his gaze shuttering as he turned the pages.

  He paused a long while on one page, and I eased forward in my seat, wondering which one it was. Glancing up, he noticed my interest and turned the book around. “Who is this man?” he asked.

  My answer stuck in my throat. I’d forgotten I’d drawn Dr. Moore as he’d appeared in my dreams. In his hand, he held his cane above his head, while I’d rendered his face as it appeared in all my memories. Angry. Dark.

  “Is he a character from some book?”

  I shook my head.

  “Jayne?”

  I glanced at him and then to my hands. They shook, and I clasped them tightly. “Dr. John Moore. From Gatesdale School. You probably haven’t heard of it. It’s in California.”

  “I’ve heard of it,” Diego replied. He shut the cover and handed it to me. “I believe it’s closed now?”

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “After an outbreak of measles. They were responsible for vaccinating their students and didn’t. Half the student population died, if I remember correctly.”

  “Yes.” And more died from neglect and abuse. But I didn’t tell him that.

  “Jayne, you didn’t attend Gatesdale, did you?”

  It was all in my records. I never hid the fact that I’d been sent to that school. Or that I’d survived it. I lifted my gaze to Diego’s, not sure what I’d see there. It was soft. Sympathetic. He reached for my hand, and I almost let him take it until I remembered Mrs. Foster. She was in the same place, watching us. “Poor Jayne,” she said and stood. She came to me and hugged me tight.

  In the short time I’d been with this family, they’d shown me more affection than I’d received in so many years. I dropped my head to her shoulder and squeezed her before stepping back. “It was a long time ago,” I assured them both. “And I’m fine.”

  Diego nodded. “You’re strong.”

  “I am.”

  “That’s how I want Sophie to be. Strong. Resilient. Smart. I’m glad we didn’t go with the first candidate,” he said. “You were a good choice.”

  14

  Jayne

  You were a good choice.

  I shut my eyes and pulled the comforter up to my chin. Diego’s words had meant more than he could possibly know. Klaus had pointed out my weaknesses, and honestly, I was smarting from it.

  But with one sentence, Diego had put me back together.

  Better yet, he’d reminded me of who I was. I wasn’t a girl who got bent out of shape about her appearance. I was a strong, resilient woman.

  I turned onto my side and shut my eyes.

  “Jayne! Where are you, you brat? Jayne!” My breath fanned the curtain where I hid. If I didn’t answer, Aunt Augusta would find me back here, and I’d be punished. But if I went to her, I’d be punished. I stood there, debating what to do when I heard my cousin.

  “She’s hiding behind the curtains again, Mom.”

  I took a breath and stepped around them. “I’m here, Aunt Augusta.”

  My aunt glared at me. Or she would have if her face moved that way. Her expression was permanently frozen in bland boredom. It made her anger that much more frightening, because there was no outward warning. One moment, she was typing on her phone, the next, she had me by the hair and dragged me out of the room.

  “Charles said you hit him.”

  I had. I’d hit him after he’d thrown me down the stairs for no reason.

  “He hit me, first, Aunt Augusta.”

  Her hand moved lightning fast. Her ring caught on my lip and I saw stars for a moment. Then my arm was wrenched as she pulled me upstairs.

  I fought her, but she was big and worked out twice a day. I had no chance of escaping her. “Don’t put me in the closet, Aunt Augusta! I’m sorry! I won’t do it again!”

  “You’re an evil girl, Jayne Burns, and if I hadn’t promised your uncle, I’d leave you on the streets.”

  We were getting closer and closer to the small, dark room at the end of the hall, and I fought her like my life depended on it.

  “You’re going to stay in here, in the dark, thinking about your poor dead uncle, and what he’d think about your cruelty.” In one swift move, she opened the door and tossed me inside. My head hit one of the top shelves before I crumpled onto the floor. She was faster than me, just like she was stronger, and I didn’t make it to the door before it slammed shut. I heard her twist the locks, but I pounded on it. “Aunt Augusta, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

  “I’m sorry!” I yelled and sat up in bed.

  “Are you okay, Jayne?” Sophie’s small voice asked.

  My shirt was damp with sweat, and I was panting like I’d run a race. “Yes.” I shut my eyes, trying to calm down. “I’m fine.”

  I opened my eyes again to see the little girl staring at me with wide eyes. “Did I wake you up, Soph? I’m sorry.”

  “No,” she replied. “I heard the laughing again and got scared. Can I sleep with you?”

  The conversation with Klaus was still fresh, so I pushed my blankets aside and stood up. “Let’s get you back to bed. I’ll stay with you until you’re asleep.”

  Sophie turned and led the way through the door to her bedroom. Her sheets were pushed to the end of her bed and her toy rabbit was on the floor. “Hop on up.”

  She got into bed, and I tucked her blankets around her before handing her the bunny. “Promise you’ll stay?”

  “Who did you hear laughing?” I asked. “Do you think it was Diego? Or Lee? Mrs. Foster?”

  She shook her head; her curls spread out on her pillow.

  “Rogers?”

  She giggled but shook her head. “It wasn’t any of them. It was a crazy lady.”

  For a second, I was afraid she meant me. What if I was laughing in my sleep? What if I was the one who frightened her?

  “Was it me?” I asked. “Do you think maybe I was laughing in my sleep?”

  She shook her head. “No. I know what you sound like. And you don’t have a mean laugh. This is a mean laugh. Like my teachers in Switzerland used to have. But crazier.”

  There was an armchair next to Sophie’s bed, and I walked around the end of the bed to settle into it. “I’ll stay here,” I said. “And that way if anyone laughs, we’ll both hear it, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said, her eyelids dropping.

  “But you have to promise me you’ll wake me up if it’s me, okay? Even if I sound crazy.”

  She giggled and turned onto her side. With her bunny under her chin, she fell asleep.


  But I was wide awake. On the back of a chair was a throw, and I pulled it over my legs before tucking myself into the side.

  I wondered if Sophie and I were having the same sorts of dreams.

  I thought back to her file, and the descriptions her teachers had of her. Nothing they’d reported was what I saw. At least not in a negative way.

  Sure, her interest bounced between things, but she was eight. Eight year-olds were supposed to be distracted by sunbeams and butterflies.

  We’d worked on that castle for hours yesterday, so she certainly had the ability to sustain her attention. She hadn’t fit their mold, and they’d disciplined her because of it.

  I hated to think about the knocks her confidence had taken. Teachers were supposed to build their students up, not stomp on their personalities until they became robots.

  I stared at the little girl who was now completely asleep. She was an absolute joy, and I was having the best time teaching her. Those teachers had missed out, that was for sure.

  Yawning, I brought the blanket around me a little closer and shut my eyes. I’d almost fallen asleep when I heard it.

  Laughter.

  My eyes popped open, and I nearly fell out of the chair. Listening hard, I wondered if I’d imagined it. If I’d somehow been between sleeping and awake and my mind had conjured an unhinged laugh.

  But then I heard it again.

  Soph was right. This was not one of the guys, and if it was Mrs. Foster, then she was a secret drunk because there was nothing normal about this laugh.

  I stood and crossed her room, unlocking the door to peek into the hall. It was dark, empty. But then—a creak.

  At one end of the hall I saw a shadowy form. Tall, almost as tall as one of the guys, but clearly feminine. I squinted in the darkness, certain it had to be Mrs. Foster, but this person was taller than her, and her long hair was wild.

  It wasn’t Mrs. Foster.

  She laughed, and it echoed down the hall.

  That was all the investigating I was doing. Quickly, I closed and locked the door and hurried to Sophie’s bed. I didn’t have my phone, but there was a house phone that rang down to the kitchen and to housekeeping. It should wake Mrs. Foster.

  I picked it up, waiting for it to connect, but the person who answered wasn’t Mrs. Foster or Rogers.

  It was Lee.

  “There’s someone in the hallway,” I whispered. “Outside Sophie’s room.”

  “Stay there,” he said, and hung up. I went to the door between our rooms, closing and locking it, and then went to stand next to the hall door. Placing my ear against it, I listened hard.

  Footsteps shuffled past, and then came back before shuffling away again.

  Pressing against it harder, I listened, waiting for when they came back. A quiet rap made me jump back, but then I heard, “Jayne. It’s Lee.”

  I unlocked it and opened it enough for him to slide inside. “Did you find them?”

  “Yes,” he said. “It’s one of our employees. I’m sorry you were frightened.”

  “They frightened Sophie. Who is it?” I thought I’d met everyone.

  “We have a night maid. She cleans up now so we don’t have people underfoot while we’re working. Her name is Grace. She’s a little weird, but she’s harmless.”

  Something about the person in the hall bothered me. I’d learned to listen to my instincts, and the knot in my stomach was a sign she wasn’t right. “She shouldn’t be on this floor.” I said. “It frightens Sophie, and frankly, she frightened me.”

  “I know,” he said. He ran his hands through his hair, pushing it out of his face.

  The knowledge hit me like a lightning bolt. Lee was nervous. This bothered him, too, but he was trying to downplay it. He went to Sophie’s bed, straightening her covers, his hands shaking.

  “Are you okay?” I asked quietly.

  He eased onto the bed carefully so not to wake her but nodded. “Yes,” he whispered, though everything about him said, no. “Thank goodness you were here, Jayne.” He pinned me with an intense stare and got up. He walked over to me and grabbed my hands. “How did you know? Did you hear her?”

  “Sophie did. She asked yesterday to keep the door between our rooms open. And she told me about feeling frightened. I told her I’d stay until she fell asleep.”

  “I’ll fix this,” he said, lacing his fingers with mine. His affection was coming from a place of relief. A parent feeling grateful that the person they trusted with their child came through, but nevertheless it sent a spark of fire running from my fingers to my heart. “Thank you, Jayne.” He pulled me into his arms and hugged me.

  But then it changed. His arms snaked around my back, one arm higher than the other, and he squeezed me until our bodies were flush. The fire that had sparked warmed me, and made me want to press tighter.

  It couldn’t last, and when he realized how close we were, I felt him tense. Putting me away from him, he ran a hand through his hair again. “You should go back to your room, Jayne. Make sure your door is locked. I’ll stay with Soph until morning.”

  I shivered, and his gaze dropped to my chest. I was standing in a beam of moonlight, braless and cold. Crossing my arms, I turned away. “All right.”

  As I reached the door, he called out to me in a whisper. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Lee,” I said, unlocked it, and stepped through. I closed the door behind me and flicked the lock.

  Standing there, hand on the knob, I thought about Lee standing guard behind me. And though my room was warm—I’d turned up the heat before I went to sleep to keep the temperature comfortable—it still felt much colder than the one I just left.

  15

  Lee

  I spent hours watching Sophie sleep. But I was holding my breath.

  I expected at any moment to hear laughter. My body primed for a fight. It was funny, how so long could go between times when a man had to fight for his life, but one reminder, one sound, and it was fight or flight.

  Pacing the room, I waited for the sun to rise. I went to Jayne’s door, trying the knob to make sure she’d locked it.

  I’d heard her do it, and I’d tested it twice before, but I did it again now. Her door was locked. She was safe.

  It was a mistake to come back here, but everyone missed home. I heard it in the way they complained about hotels and touring. I caught Diego checking the weather on his phone while we toured southern France and played huge stadiums in Berlin and Rome.

  Ten missed the rain and Klaus even yelled, “Why is it always so damned sunny?”

  I took it all in and made the decision for us, and here we were.

  Now Sophie was in danger, and so was this woman I couldn’t stop thinking about. A woman who put herself between danger and our child without hesitation.

  It wasn’t in my nature to ignore the obvious, and it was time for me to admit, Miss Jayne Burns had me tied up in knots.

  And I wasn’t the only one. Sighing, I went to the window. As soon as the sun rose, my band mates and I needed to have a discussion.

  I recognized the signs, and we needed to make a decision. How interested in Jayne were we?

  16

  Jayne

  The next morning dawned clear with blue skies and I hopped out of bed, excited for a day of exploring. I’d had images of exploring the countryside with Soph. A dozen BBC movies popped into my head as I pictured us traversing brooks and maybe finding a fairy ring or two.

  I got into my teacher uniform. Jeans. Blouse. But grabbed a heavy sweater to wear over my clothes.

  I opened the door between my bedroom and Sophie’s, but her bed was empty, so I hurried downstairs and into the kitchen.

  At the table, along with Mrs. Foster, was a woman I didn’t recognize. “Hello,” I said.

  She grunted at me, lifting a cup of coffee to her lips before standing. Shuffling to the sink, she put her cup inside and left without a word.

  Turning wide eyes to Mrs. Foster, I gestured toward
the hall, and the retreating figure.

  “That’s Grace,” Mrs. Foster told me. “The night maid.”

  I narrowed my eyes. So that was Grace. The hallway lurker. The frightener of small children.

  I must have stepped toward her because Mrs. Foster called out, “Jayne, wait.”

  Stopping, I glanced at her over my shoulder.

  “Sit, please.”

  I did, and Mrs. Foster stood. She went around the kitchen, pouring me a cup of coffee before sitting next to me. “Lee told me what happened last night, and I’m afraid this is my fault. I didn’t tell Grace which floors to clean. And I didn’t tell you about her. Honestly, I never thought your paths would cross!”

  “They did,” I replied. “She really scared Sophie. And honestly, she creeped me out, too.”

  “She talks to herself, mumbles and laughs, but she’s not a threat. You won’t see her again, and neither will Sophie. Some of the boys took her out as a reward for being so brave and explained everything.”

  “Was she okay?” I wondered what they told her.

  “Yes,” she said. “She had you, and she said you’d protect her if they weren’t there. She’s quite fond of you.” The older woman stood and began to clean the already clean kitchen.

  “I’m fond of her,” I replied. After a moment, I went on, “When are they coming back?”

  “No idea,” Mrs. Foster said. “I think you may have the day to yourself.”

  “Oh.” The idea didn’t hold as much charm to me as my initial plan, but I could still explore. “I thought I’d take a walk,” I said. “Are there a pair of boots I could borrow?”

  “A walk?” Mrs. Foster asked. “In this weather?”

  “Is it very cold?” I asked.

  “Ten degrees!” she told me, and I agreed that was cold. Except, wait, she was talking Celsius and that meant it was probably around fifty.