Jean Harnett

Chapter 13: Christmas Vacation

Jean awoke with the sensation that it was very, very late. Today, she was going home for Christmas vacation. How happy that thought made her!

She rolled over, opened her eyes, and sat upright. Fishing tackle? Baseball bats? What man's room was she in?!

Then she remembered. Last night at the school dance. And that horrible drinking bout in the wee hours of this morning.

Jean got out of bed and slipped into the robe that Mrs. Cramer had left for her. Then she saw the suitcase. Her suitcase. She opened it and found her clothes all freshly packed. Shaking her head in bewilderment, she pulled on her red skirt and sweater.

Jean eventually descended the open stairway and found herself in the spacious, colonial living room. In front of the window facing the street stood an immense Christmas tree, its branches glistening in the early morning light. An array of unlit lights and homemade ornaments highlighted by silver garland spoke of Christmas memories. A clock quietly ticked away the minutes. Family photos stood on the open piano in the corner. It was a very homey room where one immediately felt comfortable.

All was the same as she remembered from last night except for one startling addition. Sprawled all over the sofa was a sleeping Robert Cramer, now clad in a clean sweatshirt and jeans, his arms flung over his face. On the floor where he'd tossed them lay his horn-rimmed glasses.

Jean slipped across the room, retrieved the glasses, and placed them on the cocktail table. Her arm brushed his as she straightened.

Cramer moaned and stirred, and Jean froze, afraid she'd disturbed his slumbers. She tiptoed several paces away before she dared to look back at him again. In stirring, he'd flung his arms back above his head, revealing his tired face. Even asleep, he wore a serious, perplexed look as though his mind was greatly troubled. His hands rested, palms upward, and she watched his fingers tremble in spasm. He must be exhausted, she thought. He hadn't surrendered easily to sleep and even now tried to fight it.

But he looked so vulnerable lying there, like he needed someone to protect him. He had always seemed so untouched by the world, so above the life of ordinary people. Jean had never seen him with his guard down like this, and it stirred deep feelings within her that she could only identify as maternal. But beyond that, his vulnerability made him oddly appealing to her. He'd never seemed quite human to her before, as if he didn't have any identify out of the school building. She didn't know this person. She couldn't quit studying him. This was like a new novelty to her to ponder.

Cramer looked almost approachable this way. She suspected that he was a very private person who worked to keep a barrier between himself and others, even members of his own family. Who knew why he didn't trust others with his feelings, but right now he seemed like someone who needed a friend. Jean was willing to be his friend, but would he allow it? Would the familiar barrier be back in place when he awoke?

It struck her that it must be very difficult to love him. How would someone know if tender sentiments were returned? Would he ever acknowledge them, even to himself?

"He finally gave in, thank goodness," his mother muttered at Jean's side, then noted Jean's alarm and drew her away from the sofa. "I didn't mean to startle you, my dear. Are you all right? You look so pale. Maybe you're still shaken from your misadventures last night. Do you want to sit down?"

Jean shook her head. "I'm all right." She nodded at Cramer. "I'm worried about him. He looks so tired."

Alida gave Jean a thoughtful look. "You try to be his friend, don't you?"

"Yes, I suppose I do." Mrs. Cramer didn't know her well enough to understand that Jean adopted anything she thought was in need of help, whether it wanted adopting or not.