Jonathan pulled into the driveway of his Bel Air home, eager to spend the rest of the afternoon with Jennifer. He knew Max was out at his weekly poker game until dinnertime. Jonathan and Jennifer had recently celebrated the first anniversary of the day they met. That one-year was full of excitement, romance and passion. Jonathan had never known such love as he and Jennifer shared. He was sure few did. In a few weeks they would be celebrating their first wedding anniversary and he was planning something special. But why wait for anniversaries? Today was as good of day as any to celebrate his love for her.
"Hello darling. What are you working on?" Jonathan said approaching Jennifer who was working at her desk.
"Oh, hello darling. You are home early."
"I thought I would surprise you but I see you are busy." Jonathan bent over and kissed her.
"Yes, this is some background material Mr. Rostov gave me to prepare for my interview this afternoon," Jennifer said rifling through some papers.
"Kind of odd for an old Russian spy to give away secrets, don’t you think?"
"Yes. I think he’s trying to clear his conscience. He hasn’t actually worked since the war so I am sure his secrets aren’t so secret anymore."
"So what did he give you to look at?"
"Well it’s the strangest assortment of stuff. Mostly newspaper clippings and letters. But some of the clippings don’t seem to have anything to do with government secrets or world affairs."
"Really, like what?" Jonathan asked intrigued.
"Here’s one: Young Man Found Dead After Freak Fall from Golden Gate."
"Perhaps he was a secret spy who had help over the bridge," Jonathan offered.
"Or, this one: Couple Killed in Car Accident In Marin Hills."
"Kind of morbid isn’t this guy? You are safe with him aren’t you?"
"Oh yes, he is about 80 years old. I am sure I could take him if I had to."
Jonathan laughed. "How about me, can you take me?"
"Anywhere you want to go." Jennifer smiled tantalizingly. "I am sorry I need to leave since you made time to come home early."
"Don’t worry about it. Max and I can relive bachelor days."
Jennifer eyed him suspiciously, "I knew you when you were a bachelor. I don’t know if I like that idea."
Jonathan twirled her chair towards him. Placing his hands on the armrests he bent over to her almost nose to nose. "I wasn’t a bachelor very long after meeting you. You know that I’m a million times happier being married to you than I was as a bachelor."
"Ah, good answer," Jennifer responded.
"Thank you."
"Come here."
Jonathan submitted, placing his lips to hers in a lingering kiss.
Jennifer, somewhat reluctantly, left for her interview. While she and Jonathan spent more time together than many families, she never liked it when her writing assignments interfered with time she could be with him. She smiled at the course her life had taken. Before meeting Jonathan, her only focus was on her career as a freelance journalist. Men always viewed her writing as a hobby and tried to steer her into a more traditional job. Jonathan was the first to appreciate her talent and support her dream. He was also the first to completely take her breath away and show her pleasures beyond writing. She would have probably stopped writing if he asked her too, that’s how much she loved him. But, Jonathan would never do such a thing.
Jennifer arrived at Mr. Rostov’s apartment about 5:00 p.m. She knocked on the door and was surprised when it swung open from the force of her knock.
"Mr. Rostov?" Jennifer pushed the door open a little more. "Mr. Rostov?" she called again. Jennifer pushed the door open all the way and stepped in. She gasped to see the apartment totally disheveled. All the books, art work and knickknacks were on the floor. Pillows where strewn everywhere. In the middle of the living room she found Mr. Rostov lying in a pool of blood.
"Mr. Rostov?" She went to him to see if he was still alive. Turning him over, a gasp of air escaped his lips.
"The truth..." His voice was gurgly as if his throat where full of water. Jennifer grabbed a pillow and covered the bullet hole just above his abdomen.
"Let me call for help." She headed to the phone but his hand caught her.
"The truth...."
"Yes, you can tell me the truth once I call an ambulance."
"Get the lettuce."
Jennifer was taken aback. Did he say ‘lettuce’? "Mr. Rostov, let me call for help." Jennifer broke away and called the police. By the time she returned to Mr. Rostov, he was dead. Jennifer sat for a moment with him. She found it tragic that he should die alone or with a stranger. She looked around the house and was curious as to what the intruder was after.
"The truth," She said to herself. "Get the lettuce?" Jennifer got up and looked around the apartment. She headed to the kitchen. The drawers were emptied as well as the cupboards and refrigerator. There was food, plates and silverware everywhere. Jennifer carefully stepped over the apples and coffee cups. Under the table she saw a head of lettuce.
"Get the lettuce." Jennifer shrugged as she crawled under the table reaching for the lettuce. "It must be frozen," she thought, as it was hard. But as she held it she realized it wasn’t real lettuce at all. It was plastic lettuce. She shook it and heard something rattle inside. She found a seam in the lettuce so she twisted to get it open. Out dropped a key with a note Bank of America. A safe deposit box key. Jennifer licked her lips and looked around to see if anyone saw her. She put the key in her pocket and put the lettuce back together. She heard the sirens of the police so she returned to the living room to wait.
Jennifer was with the police for an hour before they allowed her leave. She told them everything she knew, except for the lettuce. Jennifer returned home at 7 p.m. to find Jonathan reading on the couch.
"Hello Darling," she called from the foyer.
"Hello, Darling. How did it go?" Jonathan asked getting up to greet her.
"You wouldn’t believe it," she said letting Jonathan take her arms and kiss her on the cheek.
"Oh, I would believe anything you told me."
"He’s dead."
"Dead?"
"Yes, murdered."
"Are you alright," Jonathan asked standing back to take a physical inventory of his wife.
"Yes, I am fine. Just shocked."
"How about some dinner and you can tell me about it?"
"You held dinner? I thought you and Max were going to sow oats or something?"
"Max is sowing elsewhere this evening."
"So you’ve been home alone?"
"Yes, all alone," Jonathan said broken-heartedly.
"Darling, I’m sorry. How will I make it up to you."
"I’ll think of something," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "Now, how about dinner."
"That would be lovely." Jennifer headed to the kitchen but Jonathan took her arm and led her to the dining room. "You’ve prepared something special?"
"Just a night of good food and maybe a little romance," Jonathan said.
"Ah. Very nice."
Jonathan showed Jennifer to her seat and served her a meal of cold cuts, fruit and wine.
Jennifer laughed. "Deli food?"
"Well, I didn’t know when you’d be home and I didn’t want the meal to get cold. So I thought better serve cold food. Now," Jonathan started as he sat down to join Jennifer. "Tell me what happened."
Jennifer explained how she found Mr. Rostov and called the police. She further told him about his last words.
"The lettuce?" Jonathan asked. "What does that mean. Is that Russian for something?"
"No, I think he really did mean the lettuce. I found a fake lettuce.. you know one of those things you hide money or jewelry in? Any way, I found one in the kitchen. I wonder if that is what the intruder was looking for?"
"The lettuce?"
"No, what was inside the lettuce. I opened the lettuce and found a safe deposit box key." Jennifer gestured the act of opening the lettuce to find the key.
"Well it is a good thing the police arrived. I would hate to think the intruder was watching and thought you might have the key."
Jennifer gave Jonathan a guilty look. "You did give the police the key, didn’t you?"
Jennifer shook her head.
"Jennifer, not only could that get you killed, it could land you in jail for tampering with evidence."
"I know, it just seemed like it was important to him that I find the lettuce and the truth."
Jonathan smiled with affection. "You are something else, you know that?"
"Yes, but you can tell me again."
"I tell you what, tomorrow we will try to get in the box and see what we find. After that I would like to turn everything over to the police."
"Agreed."
"In the mean time, I think you need to spend some focused time with me."
"Feeling neglected?" she cooed getting up from her chair and sitting in his lap.
"Well, I was a bit lonely in this huge house all by myself."
"Tsk, tsk. You poor thing. What can ever be done to remedy that?"
"Perhaps a little specialized attention from you would work."
Jennifer looked in Jonathan’s eyes. "When is Max coming back?"
"Max, won’t be home for hours. His date is in Tijuana."
"Good," Jennifer said getting out of Jonathan’s lap. She stepped back slowly, her eyes gazing in his. Slowly and seductively she removed her shirt. An appreciative grin appeared on Jonathan’s face as he watched her remove her clothing. Jonathan marveled at her gorgeous dancer-like body. She was slim yet curvaceous in all the right places.
"You can come up close if you like," Jennifer cooed.
Jonathan smiled as he stood from his chair. He went to her placing his hands on her shoulders and running them down the velvet softness of her back. He savored her lips kissing his chest and stomach as she unbuttoned his shirt. He put his hands on her arms and pulled her up to him. He pressed his lips to hers. His tongue traced the soft fullness of her lips and explored the recesses of her mouth.
Jennifer fumbled with his pants as he kicked off his shoes. His kisses on her neck and throat sent a familiar and welcomed tingling through her body. She sighed as he removed her bra and nuzzled his face in the warm flesh of her breasts. Jennifer ran her fingers through his hair as he lovingly teased her breasts with his tongue.
Jonathan cascaded kisses down her cleavage to her stomach. He could feel her stomach muscles contract under the delicate touch of his lips. Taking a hold of her panties, he slowly pulled them down, carefully caressing her long graceful legs as he did.
Jennifer found her legs getting weak as her body began to burn with desire. Jonathan stood up, running his hands up along her soft but firm body as he did.
"You are so beautiful," he whispered as he placed his hand on the side of her face and pulled her lips to his.
Jennifer reached for him. Her gentle massage sent currents of desire through him. He pushed her by the table, carefully lifting her buttocks to rest on the edge. Jennifer placed her arms on his strong shoulders, preparing for a surge of energy. Jonathan placed one hand on the table for support. With the other he held his erection and teased Jennifer between her thighs. Throwing her head back, she moaned aloud with erotic pleasure. Jonathan enjoyed watching Jennifer’s breathing quicken in response to his movements.
"Ohhh, now pleeease," Jennifer gasped as her impatience to feel him in her grew to explosive proportions.
Jonathan indulged his wife. Slowly he pushed himself into her. Her muscles instinctively tightened, sending waves of fire though Jonathan. Unable to control his passion any longer, he thrusted forcefully into her. Jennifer wrapped her legs around him, helping him move faster and harder. Together their bodies were in exquisite harmony as their passions grew to mind-blowing proportions. Jennifer couldn’t control the outcry of delight as she soared in ecstasy. Hearing his wife’s pleasure filled cries, and feeling her shudders of release, sent Jonathan into his own explosive release.
Jonathan laid Jennifer back on the table resting his arms under hers so that his hands held her head. They laid there in silence until they could catch their breath.
"The only thing wrong with this is that the after-play isn’t as cozy," Jonathan finally said.
Jennifer laughed. "The after-play?"
"Yes, you know, when I kiss you and caress you and tell you how much I love you."
"You can do that now," Jennifer said pushing some hair away from Jonathan’s face.
"It just isn’t as comfortable."
"How about we go and take a hot bath. Then we can try it again in the cozy comfort of our bed."
"The after-play?" Jonathan asked.
"I mean the fore-play, during-play and after-play."
Jonathan smiled and kissed her. "Let’s go then."
The next morning, Jonathan and Jennifer headed the Bank of America Branch nearest Mr. Rostov’s apartment.
"Hello, this is Madam Rostov and I am Mr. John her interpreter. We are here to check the Rostov safe deposit box," Jonathan said to the customer service representative.
"Is Madam Rostov on the card?"
Jonathan looked at Jennifer. Jennifer began to mumble something in Russian.
"She isn’t sure. She is quite unfamiliar with the customs of our country. Her late husband, Mr. Rostov always took care of everything."
"I see, well let me go look."
"I hope Mr. Rostov was married," Jonathan said as they waited for the woman to return. "By the way, I love it when you speak Russian."
"I thought it was French you loved?"
"No that is Gomez Adams. French is lulling to me. Russian though, that is sexy."
"I’ll have to remember that," Jennifer responded with a twinkle in her eye.
"I am sorry Mr. John, there is no Mrs. Rostov on the card."
"Oh dear," Jonathan said. "Mr. Rostov just passed away and we believe his will is in the box. Is there any way you can help poor Mrs. Rostov here?"
The woman looked sympathetically at Jennifer who began to wipe her eyes.
"Well, I guess it won’t hurt, as long as we don’t tell anybody."
"Thank you very much!"
The three headed to the safe deposit room and obtained the box. The woman led them to an area in which they could check the contents of the box.
"Let’s see Mr. Rostov what is so important to keep in your lettuce," Jennifer said.
"Let’s just hope it isn’t salad."
Jennifer eyed Jonathan with her that’s not funny gaze. Jennifer opened the box to reveal a variety of papers and documents.
"Armageddon," Jennifer read on a paper with a list of names. "Sounds awful."
"Look Darling, the names, isn’t that the name of the guy from the article that went over the bridge?"
"Michael Peters. Yes it is. And here is Rostov’s."
"And, look here is the couple, Charles and Helene Valentine," Jonathan said.
"I wonder what it means?"
"I don’t know. I wonder if these were people Rostov worked with or maybe against. His seems to be the only Russian sounding name on the list."
Jennifer dug deeper into the box. "Look at this. It is a birth certificate. Charles Jean Valentine Jr. Born Feb. 10 ...That’s your birthday darling."
"Yes it is," Jonathan said taking the document. "Charles Jean Valentine was born on the same day exactly."
"Yes, but it says here he was born in Santa Rosa Memorial Hospital. You were born in San Francisco."
"Yes," Jonathan agreed.
"You know, I don’t remember the article mentioning a son do you?"
"What?"
"Well, when someone dies, they usually have a little blurb at the end saying who survives the deceased. And, he wasn’t mentioned as being killed in the accident," Jennifer explained.
"Strange."
"Yes." Jennifer looked in the box again. This time she pulled out an envelope. "Look a letter for Rostov. Should we open it?"
"We’ve come this far, why not."
Jennifer opened the letter. "It’s some sort of guardianship paper."
"What does it say?"
"Well, this form here gives Rostov guardianship of Charles Jean Valentine, Jr. And this here is a letter to Rostov. Let’s see, Dear Friend Uri, If you are reading this, we have had the sad misfortune of passing. It seems things have not gone on as planned. Helene and I are hopeful that this letter is read before they show up to the house. And we hope that it won’t be too much trouble to attend to these things particularly since such swift action will be needed. The boy will be at his usual place. We trust you will handle his placement as we have discussed. Hopefully you will have time to find a suitable family. He has a bag packed and hidden in the crawl space of the house. It has everything he needs for his new home but nothing to link him to you or us. It is Helene’s wish that someday he can be told about us and your heroic efforts to save us all. If ever it is safe, find him and tell him he was loved and that we are sorry we were unable to provide the life we wanted to. Also, on our last trip to Avignon, we buried a box of photos and heirlooms. Again, only if it is safe do we want him to know about these things." Jennifer looked up at Jonathan to find a frown on his face. "Are you all right darling?"
"Yes," he answered. "Keep reading."
"You will also find a box with valuable items. Use these to save yourself. It is ironic isn’t it that the enemy has become the ally and the ally is our enemy. We have had a good and adventurous life. Both Helene and I count ourselves fortunate to have such as friend as you Uri. May God be with you and our young Charlie." Jennifer set the letter down with the other items found so far. "Do you think Helene and Charles were spies too?"
Jonathan shook his head, "I don’t know."
Jennifer pulled out the next paper. "This is in Russian. It looks like a list of physical features. Ummm." Jennifer studied the paper trying to re-familiarize herself with Russian. "I think this says scar on right knee or leg. Maybe its shin. And this is ‘marking’ on back side just above buttock." Jennifer’s head shot up. "Jonathan! You have both of these."
Jonathan’s mind was in a whirl. He had a lump in his throat and uneasiness in the pit of his stomach.
Jennifer waited for Jonathan to say something but he remained silent. Finally he picked up the papers and other materials still in the box and handed them to Jennifer.
"Can you fit these in your purse? We may want to look at them again later," he stated more than asked.
"Yes. You think it is alright?"
"Well, Mr. Rostov isn’t going to come get them." There was an edge to Jonathan’s voice that Jennifer had never heard. Quietly she put the papers in her purse. They closed the box and left the bank. Jennifer watched Jonathan carefully but she was unable to read his expression. His mind was clearly somewhere else, in a place he didn’t seem to want her to know about. The image of a cocoon came to mind. Jennifer frowned. In the ten months they had been married, she had never seen this behavior in him.
"Are you alright darling," she finally asked.
"Sure," he said not looking to her.
"Would you like me to drive?" She wondered if his mind was anywhere in the present.
"That would be great," he said with the same flat affect.
Jennifer was glad she drove. It gave her something to do since conversation was apparently not in order.
"Let me see if Max has lunch," Jennifer said as they walked in the door.
"Can I have those papers?" Jonathan asked.
"They are in my purse. Help yourself."
Jonathan retrieved the papers and sat on the couch in the living room. He spread the documents on the coffee table to review them again.
Jennifer went into the kitchen to find Max.
"How did it go, Mrs. H.?" Max asked as he tossed a salad.
"I don’t know Max." Jennifer explained what they had found.
Max nodded. "Wow! His parents. Wouldn’t that be something? In all the years I have known him, he has never talked about them. Although he was so little I guess he wouldn’t remember."
"You would think that he would be happy Max but he is distant and aloof. I have never seen him so disconnected Max."
Max nodded. "I have only seen that in him maybe two times in the whole time I have known him. I think he just needs a little space to sort something out in his head."
"We share everything Max. Why would he close himself off now?"
Max shrugged. "I never understood it. He and I talk about a lot of things but some things he doesn’t like to share. It hardly ever happens. He’ll work it out." Max put the salad on the table.
"I’ll go let Mr. H. Know let is ready," Jennifer said not satisfied with Max’s answer. She went into the living room. "Darling, lunch is ready."
Jonathan looked up with a blank stare. Then as if someone snapped his or her fingers, he seemed to realize she was there. "I am sorry, darling. I really need to go to the office. I probably won’t be home ‘til late." Jonathan got up and gathering the papers he kissed Jennifer on the cheek and headed out the door. Jennifer was stunned.
The evening proved to be more of the same. When he arrived home after 8 p.m., Jonathan continued to be distant and uninterested in participating in conversation with Jennifer or Max. Jennifer finally gave up and went to bed early. When she woke in the morning, Jonathan had already left for work.
"Max, something needs to be done. What’s going on through his head?"
"I guess he is pre-occupied with the information you found. I don’t know what we can do to help."
Jennifer bit her lip and thought hard. "Maybe the first thing we should do is find out about when Jonathan was left at the orphanage. Maybe they have documents about who left him that could give a clue as to whether or not the Valentines could actually be his parents."
"I don’t know Mrs. H. I mean normally I would say yes but seein’ as there is something really disturbing Mr. H, maybe we should just let it go until he lets us know what he wants."
"Max, he clearly isn’t going to let us know. I don’t think I can take another night of his brooding." Max shrugged. One thing he knew for sure, he would never be able sway Jennifer’s mind once she was determined to do something.
Jennifer headed to her office area and dialed information for the Mission Street Orphanage in San Francisco.
"Yes, my name is Jennifer Edwards. I am doing a story on famous people who were orphaned or adopted. I was wondering if anyone would be able to give me information regarding Mr. Jonathan Hart."
"I am sorry Ms. Edwards but information regarding children’s records are sealed by the state."
"Oh, I see. Well, what I really wanted was personal stories."
"It’s been a long time since Mr. Hart was here. The only person who might remember him is Sister Mary Margaret. She is now at the St. Vincent hospital. If she’s having a clear day, she may be able to help you."
"Thank you so much." Jennifer immediately dialed information for the hospital and called Sister Mary Margaret. "Sister Mary Margaret? My name is Jennifer Hart. My husband is Jonathan Hart...."
"Oh yes, little Charlie."
"Yes. That’s right. Sister, I wanted to surprise Jonathan with a little scrapbook about his childhood, I was wondering if you might be able to help me."
"Well, I can try. My mind isn’t what it used to be."
"Any little bit would be great. Sister, do you remember when Jonathan came to the Mission?"
There was a silence. "Yes, he was about three I guess. He was a foundling... someone left him on the steps. Back then you could do that and children would be okay. He had such bright eyes. You could tell he had been well taken care of. He was clean with nice clothes."
"Was there a note or something?"
"Just with his name: Jonathan Charles Hart and birth date. Although, he finally told us to call him Charlie."
"Jonathan has a birth certificate. Where did that come from?"
"The state made that. It was routine back then. At least we had that information. Some kids we had to make it all up."
"Did he ever talk about his parents?"
"Well, he was only three. He did call for his mom for a long time. And someone else... I can’t recall who though. It was so sad. You could see the light going out of his eyes each day his mom didn’t come back."
Jennifer frowned. The light... that is what is gone from Jonathan now.
"We would try to sing to him and comfort him but he wouldn’t have any of it. Although, after we would leave you could hear him singing a little French tune... Clair De Lune I think it was."
Jennifer stopped. "Did you say a French tune?" She remembered the note referring to Avignon, a town in France. And Charles’ middle name was Jean, which was French for John.
"Yes, he knew every word too."
"Did the Mission keep any papers or items he arrived with?"
"Yes, except that it went into his record. Since the state took over those things, you can’t get in to see them. Not even Charlie can see them. Tragic. So many kids who could know so much about their history but are denied."
"Yes," Jennifer agreed. All of a sudden, Jennifer felt a presence. Looking up she saw Jonathan scrutinizing with questioning eyes. "Thank you very much Sister," Jennifer stammered as she hung up the phone.
"What are you doing?" Jonathan asked evenly.
Jennifer got up to approach him. "Hello, Darling I didn’t hear you come in."
"I gather that. Who were you talking to?"
Jennifer glanced at the phone and then Jonathan trying to figure out what to say. Normally she would tell him straight out but things were not normal. "That was Sister Mary Margaret. I thought maybe I could help you."
"I didn’t ask for any help."
"No, but you seem so preoccupied about something since we found all those papers..."
"I would have thought you would consult me before continuing a story that may affect me." Jonathan eyes were accusing.
"Jonathan?" Jennifer’s heart sank at his tone. "I am not talking about the story." Jennifer wanted to say more but she couldn’t find the words. She didn’t know the man standing in front of her. "I love you and was worried about you. I just wanted to help," she mustered.
"I don’t want help. And I would prefer it if you would just leave this whole issue to me." His voice was firm and final.
"Yes, fine," she said her face etched with pain. Clearing her throat to avoid the cracking that comes with crying she said, "I am going to go upstairs to get the dry cleaning. I told Max I would take care of it."
Jonathan watched her go. A feeling of guilt crept through him as an ache of emptiness gnawed at his soul. Forcing himself to look away he headed to the kitchen.
