Jonathan got to the on-ramp of Interate 95 just after the sun rose. It was a beautiful, clear morning, but terribly cold and Jonathan was barely dressed for the chilly New England morning. In fact, looking down at himself for the first time, he realized how awful he looked. He hoped that someone would take mercy upon him and give him a ride. Although, he thought to himself, he wouldn't be at all surprised if people turned him down.
After almost on hour on foot, Jonathan turned to put his thumb out, as a passing pickup truck slowed down. Much to his relief, it stopped about twenty yards ahead. Jonathan began sprinting toward the vehicle.
The driver was a young man, perhaps twenty-two, dressed in blue jeans and a flannel shirt. He was clean-shaven and had an easy smile.
"Good heavens, mister! You need a lift?" he asked.
Jonathan smiled back at him, hoping to make him feel comfortable. "I sure do. I'm headed into Boston, but I'd be happy to get a lift as far as you can take me there," he said, opening the truck door.
Jonathan put out his hand. "My name's Jonathan Hart. I appreciate the ride."
The young man smiled. "I'm Joshua Pruett. Nice to meet you. I'm headed to Berwick. I can get you pretty close to the New Hampshire border."
"That'd be fine," Jonathan said, noticing that Joshua was eyeing his clothing. "Oh, my clothes. I know I'm a mess. Actually, my car broke down way off the beaten path. I had to walk all the way out to the freeway."
"Freeway? Where you from anyway? The west coast?" Joshua chuckled.
Jonathan laughed at himself. "Yes…L.A. actually. The highway, right?"
Joshua laughed. "Yeah, it's the highway…what brings you to Maine?"
If only he knew, Jonathan thought to himself. "Oh, some business I'm looking into. I'm hoping to get back home today…miss the wife, you know?"
"Wouldn't know…not married myself - yet, that is. I'm hoping I find the right girl someday," Joshua said. "How long you been married?"
"Five years…and it gets better with each year."
"That's great - I guess you're one of the lucky ones," Joshua summed up.
"Yes, I am," Jonathan agreed.
Jonathan arrived at the Ritz Carleton at almost noon. It had been a weary ride from Maine to Boston - three drivers in all, Joshua being the most pleasant by far. Jonathan was afraid the last driver was going to drive to the police, he was so suspicious of Jonathan's story and his appearance. Luckily, Jonathan was able to charm him enough to be able to get dropped off just outside Boston's city limits. At last, he was here. He didn't know how he was going to act when he saw Jennifer. All he wanted to do was to take her in his arms and make love to her.
Jonathan strode up the front desk, barely able to contain himself. The desk clerk looked stunned.
"What happened to you, Mr. Hart?"
"Long story…what room is Mrs. Hart checked into?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Hart. You just missed her by about a half-hour. She had a twelve-thirty flight out of Logan to catch."
Jonathan looked at the clock on the wall. "Can you get a driver to get me over to the airport right away?"
"Sure, Mr. Hart." Within ten minutes, Jonathan was headed to Logan International Airport.
Jennifer boarded the airplane and sat down in her First Class seat. She pondered all of the puzzling information she had learned over the past few days - none of it added up. In all of her married life, she had never felt distant from Jonathan. Jennifer was determined not to let this chasm that had developed between them grow any larger. She made up her mind to have a very serious conversation with him when she returned home.
Jonathan hopped out of the limousine and ran into the airport terminal, frantically searching the monitors for departures to Los Angeles. He found the flight that was leaving and headed toward the gate. As he approached the security booth, two officers stopped him. As Jonathan tried to catch his breath to explain, his heart sank as he saw Jennifer's plane pull away from the terminal and head to the runway.
"Oh, no," he groaned, and then slammed his fist against the wall.
"I need to get the next flight out to L.A.," he said to no one in particular.
Jennifer spotted Max at the airport right away. She gave him a big hug, and she could tell by the way he hugged in return that he had really missed her.
"Welcome back, Mrs. H."
"Thanks, Max. I'm glad to be back. Mr. H couldn't come?" she said, although she would have been surprised to see him.
"No, but he said he'll be there when we get back."
Jennifer nodded knowingly, and then frowned. "Still no sign of Freeway?"
Max shook his head and said nothing. He never thought he would get so choked up over the mutt.
They left the airport and began their drive home in the Bentley. Jennifer rested her head back against the seat, letting the California sunshine warm her. They exited the freeway onto Mullholland Drive toward Bel Air. At the light at the end of the exit ramp, Max came to a stop, waiting for the light to turn green. He looked across the intersection and noticed a disheveled man sitting on the sidewalk. His cardboard sign described his plight: Need Money for Food.
"It can't be," Max muttered aloud.
Jennifer opened her eyes. "What?"
As soon as the light turned green, Max quickly turned into the left lane, cutting off traffic.
"Max, what are you doing?" Jennifer cried.
Max said nothing as he pulled up to the curb and opened the door. "How much do you want for that dog there?" he said as he approached the homeless man. There sat Freeway, huddled up to the stranger. When Freeway saw Max, he began yelping.
"This mutt? I don't know. He's been keeping me company all day. How about ten bucks?" the man answered.
Jennifer's face brightened when she heard the dog bark. "Freeway, baby!"
Max bent down and stuffed a one hundred-dollar bill into the man's hand. "It's a deal."
Jennifer walked into their bedroom quietly, her heart feeling very heavy. There was so much that she wanted to say, so many questions she wanted answered. And yet what she really wanted was to rush into Jonathan's arms and pretend that the past two weeks had never happened. Would they be able to put all this behind them and enjoy the relationship they had always had? The uncertainty gripped her, and she drew a heavy breath before entering the room.
The man was lying on the bed, his feet crossed, looking up at the ceiling. He sat up with a huge grin upon seeing Jennifer. He was more than ready to welcome her back to their home - at last he could indulge himself with the pleasures that only the real Jonathan Hart had enjoyed… until now.
"Hi," Jennifer said quietly, her arms folded. She smiled weakly.
"Hi," he answered smoothly, coming over to wrap his arms around her waist. He bent down and nuzzled her neck, inhaling her scent.
Jennifer stood silently, her hands holding on to his hips. Somehow, his embrace was not comforting. He took her face in his hands.
"I missed you," he smiled. "I've closed up some important deals at work and I must say that I'm feeling much better…I was hoping that we could refresh our relationship," he said, winking and motioning toward the bed.
Jennifer looked away, as the thoughts of Amanda and Kelly's Washington Street apartment flashed in her mind.
"Jonathan, I think we need to talk about some things first."
The man began kissing her neck passionately, his hands feeling their way down her back. When he reached her bottom, he began rubbing in large, circular motions, inching her skirt up slowly.
"Bed first…talk later," he mumbled into her ear.
Jennifer pushed herself away. "Jonathan," she said indignantly, "please, we need to talk!"
The man scowled. He had no intention of being put off by her - she was his now. He stepped toward her and grabbed her arm, forcing it behind her back. He was careful not to hurt her, but to exert enough force to remind her who was boss.
Jennifer gasped in disbelief and horror. "Jonathan, what are you doing?!"
He let go and drew her close to him. "Jennifer, you are so beautiful. I just want to take you to bed."
With tears springing to her eyes, she whispered in pain, "Jonathan…I just don't understand what's going on…you've changed…I don't feel like I know you anymore." She began sobbing quietly into his chest, her wet tears soaking into his shirt. He seized upon the moment.
Pressing his lips hungrily against hers, he thrust his tongue inside her warm, wet mouth. The motion made him grow firm. Jennifer's body slumped wearily against his. She succumbed to the fatigue and grief that she had fought for the past several days, hoping that Jonathan's strong body would revive her. His hand opened the buttons to her blouse and slipped inside, grabbing onto her breast. Jennifer could not stop crying, her body trembling at the man's touch.
Suddenly, the door lock to their bedroom began to jiggle. They both looked up.
"Go away, Max!" the man shouted.
The door jiggled once more.
A moment passed, and suddenly, the door blew open with such force that it tore from its hinges. Jonathan stormed into the room.
The sight of the imposter holding Jennifer in his arms, her blouse torn open, tears streaking her face, made his blood boil. The rage that flooded his very being was more than he had ever felt in his life.
Shocked, the man let go of Jennifer and shoved her down onto the bed. She struggled to get up, stunned at what she was seeing.
Jonathan took a step closer and threw one direct punch at the man - it was so forceful that the man sailed back against the wall and fell to the floor. As he scurried to regain his balance, Jonathan moved on him like a lion tearing apart his dinner. Jennifer screamed, as blood splattered across the carpet, and the man's body lay in a heap on the floor. Jonathan looked at him, trying to decide whether to finish him off. He forced the thought out of his mind, and suddenly became aware of Jennifer crying softly in a corner of the room.
He looked at her compassionately and realized that he must have looked like quite a sight: he hadn't shaved, showered, or changed his clothes in two weeks. He was covered in the dirt and filth of the back woods of Maine. He took a step closer, never removing his gaze from her.
Jennifer stood up slowly, peering into Jonathan's eyes. "Jonathan?" she said, barely audible.
He smiled. "Yes…it's me, darling."
Jennifer ran into his arms, her emotions turning to joy.
Jonathan closed the front door and locked it, glad that the last of the entourage that had swarmed their home for the past few hours was gone. Luckily, at one point, he was able to excuse himself to take a quick shower and change his clothing. The Feds were the last to leave - they had painstakingly reviewed every detail of Jonathan's description of the past two weeks' events. Jennifer had provided her account, as well, but Jonathan noted that she seemed weary and distant. At one point in the evening, he was so concerned about her, he had asked Max to clean the bedroom and change all the linens - to be sure and remove all signs of their intruder. Jonathan watched her like a hawk, never letting her leave his side. There was one thing for sure: Jennifer would need time to heal from this trauma.
Finally, they were alone and the house was still. He turned to Jennifer and held her hands.
"How are you doing?" he asked, looking into her eyes.
She smiled weakly and shrugged. "Okay, I guess….tired."
Jonathan nodded. "I thought they would never leave. Let's go upstairs."
Jennifer seemed to hesitate, but then agreed, and they walked up the staircase hand in hand.
"Max must've cleaned up in here," Jennifer said as they entered the room, sounding relieved. "I think I'll go wash up and get ready for bed."
Jonathan let go of her hand and watched her disappear into the adjoining room. He sat on the edge of their bed and removed his clothes, slipping into a pair of pajama bottoms that Max had carefully laid out. Max had thought of everything - he had even removed all the clothing that the imposter had apparently worn. Several moments later, Jennifer slipped into bed and curled up next to him.
"Will you turn off the light, darling?" she asked quietly.
Jonathan bit the side of his cheek. There was a long pause. "Darling, I'd like to talk a little bit first," he said, noticing how fragile she looked to him.
Jennifer drew in a deep breath. "I'm so tired, Jonathan. I'd really prefer to get a good night's sleep. Can we talk tomorrow?" she said, unable to look him in the eye. Jonathan tipped her chin up so that they were eye to eye.
"I think it's important to talk now," he said tenderly.
Jennifer waited, unable to speak and unable to sort through her emotions. All she wanted to do was to hold Jonathan tightly - hold on to him for dear life. She was afraid that if she started talking she would lose control of the anger and hurt that was buried in her heart.
"I need to know - did he ever hurt you?"
"No, not in the physical sense."
"Emotionally?" he probed. She nodded and looked away.
"Did he have sex with you?"
"No…but if you hadn't…" she said, unable to finish the sentence, tears welling up in her eyes. Jonathan caressed her arm.
There was another long pause. Jennifer swallowed hard.
"It makes me so angry to think that he was here…here with you," Jonathan said. There was another long silence.
Jennifer finally spoke. "I should've known it wasn't you… I should've known," she said, her voice trailing off.
"How could you have known? You knew something was wrong, and you went all the way to Boston to find out what happened," Jonathan comforted her. "Who did you talk to when you were there?"
"I met with Bill Stockton - he was very concerned about you…I saw Sal Tortelli and….," she paused. "I also had a little visit with a couple of hookers in the Combat Zone."
"You're kidding," he said, pondering the implications. "So, you thought I was fooling around on you?"
Jennifer looked pained. "I found their names in your … I mean, his coat pocket. I tracked them down..."
Again, there was silence, as each of them considered what had happened. Jonathan reached up to touch her hair gently.
"I want you to know," he said slowly and deliberately, "that this is never going to happen again. You're safe now."
Jennifer nodded, feeling a heaviness in her chest. As she closed her eyes, a wave of emotion flooded her senses, causing tears to spill over her cheeks. Jonathan bent forward drying her tears with his tender kisses. He continued kissing her face while he swallowed down his own grief. He knew only too well how dangerously close Jennifer came to being invaded in the most intimate way possible. He held her in his arms for a long time, until her sobs disappeared and she relaxed in his arms.
Finally, Jennifer looked up at him and smiled. "Are we through talking now?"
He smiled back, relieved to see her face brighten. "I suppose so." He reached over and turned off the light. The moonlight cast a peaceful glow throughout the room.
"Jonathan?"
"What is it, darling."
"Will you make love to me?" she whispered.
Jonathan paused. "Well, I will…I mean, I'd love to…but, are you sure you're up to it? Maybe we should wait until tomorrow."
"Tonight," she whispered.
He gazed into her eyes and felt like he could see clear through to her soul. Slowly, he kissed her lips, which had become as soft as butter. He continued to glide his lips against the smoothness of her own, each time drawing her breath into his. A moan escaped from her throat, as Jonathan gently peeled away the straps to her silk nightgown. She wrapped her arms around his strong shoulders, feeling his muscles flex.
Slowly lifting the nightgown over her head, Jonathan looked down at her lovingly, taking in the beauty of her form. He then slipped his own pajamas off until they were lying flesh to flesh. Jennifer pulled him on top of her, feeling as though she would dissolve into the warmth and weight of Jonathan's body. Again, a wave of emotion washed over Jennifer, and she felt tears come to her eyes.
"Are you all right?" Jonathan whispered, wiping a stray tear that had slipped over her cheekbone.
Jennifer brought her hand up to meet his and kissed it. "I'm fine."
Jonathan's hardness continued to grow as he nuzzled her neck and her breasts. Taking one breast into the palm of his hand, he gently lowered his lips to brush against her nipple, feeling it harden they way he liked it. He took the nipple in his teeth, playfully tugging it until he heard her moan.
Jennifer rubbed Jonathan's backside, pushing his pelvis against her and feeling him straining against her leg. She wanted him to enter her - to go as deeply as he could, until he could fill her up no further.
Jonathan sensed her urgency and knew that he would need to hasten his love-making tonight to satisfy his wife's hunger for him - not just sexual hunger, but emotional as well. He nudged her legs open and poised himself at the gateway to her femininity. The warmth between her legs beckoned him. They lay face to face, their lips almost touching.
Slowly, but firmly, Jonathan pushed himself in. The motion made Jennifer gasp for breath, her entire body tingling. "Oh, Jonathan," she whimpered, again the emotion swelling in her throat.
Jonathan rocked himself back and forth, meeting her hips each time. He kept the weight of his body on his elbows, careful that he not exert too much pressure on her delicate frame. Perhaps it was just her state of mind, but he felt as though he would crush her if he made love to her the way he really wanted to: thrusting into her hungrily.
He looked into her eyes. "I love you," he whispered.
Hearing his words and feeling him deeply inside of her made Jennifer cry out. She held his shoulders tightly and shuddered as her body climaxed.
"I love you too," she cried.
Jonathan listened to her words embrace him and then exploded in ecstasy. They lay in each other's arms for quite some time. Jennifer finally broke the silence.
"Are you sure this is the real Jonathan Hart?" Jennifer teased.
"Surely, you don't think that an imposter could pleasure you like that?" Jonathan said, grinning.
"Hmmm, I suppose you're right," she giggled.
