Chapter Four Jasper and Loretta #2
He shrugs. “It’s normal to help people and make them feel welcome. I’m not doing anything out of the ordinary.”
My heart lurches with a sudden, miserable realization.
I’ve been taking care of Matt for so long, and for the baby, and maybe I didn’t have a job, but damn it, I worked, and got zero help with anything that Matt called “my territory.” Laundry, cleaning, cooking, baby care.
.. “My ordinary doesn’t look like this,” I whisper.
“I’d like it to, but I was a ‘trad wife.’ Housewife?
Stay-at-home-mom? My job was to take care of everything but making the money in a ‘real job.’”
Jasper tilts his head, and he reminds me of some big, curious dog who doesn’t understand the command they just heard.
“But you’re the wife and mother. The homemaker.
That’s a huge job. No breaks, no vacations, and without you, nothing flows.
No one is happy. So, even if you take care of everyone else, someone ought to be taking care of you. ”
Matt tried to break me down with yelling and snide comments. It was slow and subtle, but thorough.
Jasper breaks me a thousand times faster, with simple kindness. Someone ought to be taking care of you.
My tears come back, and Jasper’s arms go around me, patting my back, stroking my hair, gradually drawing Arianna into one arm and me into the other.
“It’s okay to cry. To mourn. It’s a death of something beautiful, of what should have been.
When you grieve, someone else takes care of things.
You eat. I’ll get to know Miss Arianna.”
“You’ll stay and eat, too?” I half-whimper. “Do you have tissues?” I must look a mess. I put on mascara and fussed over my makeup to go to the Halloween party. It’s probably been sobbed into streaks and blotches a dozen times since I fled the house. My home.
I picture the nursery that I spent months carefully, lovingly preparing, the bed I always made each morning, with all of its accent pillows, and I sob more.
“Tissues! Coming up.” Jasper hurries across the hall to a bathroom done in old-fashioned black and white linoleum and white fixtures. I hear him rummaging under the sink, and the cabinet door shutting with a wooden “thunk,” and then he returns with a box. “Here.”
“You’re really good at taking care of people,” I whisper, wiping at my eyes, scrubbing hard so that the makeup comes off completely.
“Man, I hope so,” he gives a melancholy little laugh. “You know... You could stay here for a day or two, and let me try my hand at it? Meet with that lawyer? Your parents could come and stay here, too. I have plenty of room. Well, it’s a four-bedroom house, and there is just me.”
Alarm bells peal. Too nice. Too kind.
Bad guy. Creepy guy. Food could be poisoned. He could be waiting until I’m asleep, and then—
“Whoa! No, no. No, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but that’s not true. Whatever you’re scared of, it’s not here.” Jasper backs up, hands out, eyes wide, a faint, almost canine whine at the end of his sentence.
“I’m sorry. I... I’m sorry. I’m going to have a really hard time trusting men again. Or myself. Or my own instincts.” I clutch Ari to my chest, pacing, acutely aware of how tall he is and how little I’m wearing.
He scratches his head, a thoughtful look on his face as he nods.
His fingers practically disappear in the thick mop of hair, and his tanned face breaks into a smile that reminds me of something.
.. Something like the wicked, grinning wolf in the story of Red Riding Hood, but there’s no malice in his words, and the impression is gone in a second.
Fleeting, like the glimmer of gold in his eye when he cocks his head.
“I know! Would you feel better staying with a family with kids? Or with another mom in the house? A woman? It’s Halloween, and that’s a pretty big deal around here, but I think I know someone who would be willing to leave the ball at White Pines early and come over to spend the night. Would that help?”
I nod—but then shake my head. There’s so much eagerness and sincerity in Jasper’s voice. He really wants to help. He’s never even met me, and he’s bending over backwards. My parents know where I am. Matt doesn’t.
Jasper is big—tall, and with his wide shoulders, a dashing figure in a suit.
“It’s... It’s all right. No need to go to all that trouble.
My emotions are all over the place. My hormones.
.. The baby.” I stop, clamming up. Matt hated it when I used that as an excuse for being weepy, tired, or anxious.
On the other hand, when I tried to protest against some of his claims or actions, he’d be the quickest to throw out my “stupid” hormones as the fault, calling me crazy and irrational.
“I completely understand. Well, no, not completely, but I can imagine. Actually, no, I can’t imagine.
It must be the hardest thing in the world to make a baby, and sustain it with what you make out of your own energy and love, and what little sleep you can get, and whatever food you manage to keep down.
Speaking of food, please eat. I really would be happy to hold her for you?
Or I can leave?” He points towards the door.
My insides twist.
Loneliness. The glimpse of a friend.
I’ve felt alone for so long and didn’t even realize it until just now, when someone truly tried to understand me and offer me comfort. Help. Safety.
All things Matt should have offered, but hoarded instead, demanding more and more of me, resenting me for things I couldn’t even control.
“Please stay. I could use a friend,” I finally whisper.
Jasper nods, a serious expression on his face, but a glad light in his gold-rimmed eyes.
My new friend has such pretty eyes.
Such a big smile when I gently pass him Arianna, and she immediately grabs the collar of his shirt and babbles joyfully.
My, what big teeth you have, I find myself thinking, loneliness sparking something unfamiliar inside of me.
The next line looms, a tale as old as stories themselves.
“All the better to eat you with, my dear.”
No. He won’t hurt me. Won’t bite.
But I’ve never, ever been “eaten,” and of course, that won’t ever happen now.
That’s okay.
Still, I practically jump out of my skin when Jasper states, “I think I do have an appetite after all.”
I swallow and sit down on the foot of the bed. He sits on the other edge, pushing the television tray closer to me and keeping Ari from kicking it over with her waving feet.
“I’m starving,” I realize aloud.
My stomach twists again as Jasper babbles back to Ari.
Maybe. Maybe one day I’ll be “hungry” again, too.
And I wonder if this not-so-bad big wolf might be the one who devours this Red Riding Hood on the run.