Josh could see the anger and betrayal flashing across Charlie’s face. At this point, you would have to be obtuse not to recognize that there were indeed strong feelings between Josh and Jessie. But that didn’t mean either would step in and wreck an almost eight-year relationship due to culminate in marriage, regardless of how badly the partnership needed work. Josh and Charlie had once been the very best of friends. They had liked each other enough to practically live out of each other’s pockets. And Jessie had been with Charlie for almost eight years. So Josh knew there were still redeemable qualities in the man who faced him now. He also knew Charlie was, rightfully, afraid. He figured that was why Charlie hung out in the bar that evening instead of up in his and Jessie’s room – he was searching, listening, watching, wondering, researching. And now he was standing there in a state of flux, the fear on his face etched in quiet lines harshly lit by cheap overhead lights, as some cheesy country ditty echoed above them from an unseen speaker.
Charlie turned once more to Dee, and then took his cue from her, the only other person he figured on this planet that cared about Jessie as much as he did, and that was when he said his good nights and finally left the room.
***
The day of Terri’s funeral dawned bright and clear, already stifling at eight in the morning, which was seasonably and expectantly temperate for this time of year in the southern part of Oregon, but about to become uncomfortably blistering hot for the Canadians. Jessie and Charlie went down together and met the others for breakfast before getting dressed for the 10:30 a.m. funeral service. Jessie accepted some yogurt and granola with fruit, at Dee’s request, but she didn’t eat much. Lingering over the already dreadful theme of the day was the impending thought of a wedding to a man whom she had lost touch with to the point she didn’t even want to try to speak to him anymore. And more so – that sickening feeling of loving someone you cannot have – it was excruciating. Food was not her friend today.
Dee raised a difficult question, quietly, to Jessie, as the others chattered around them, but the table lost all volume as the momentous nature of Dee’s query was overheard and absorbed.
“Okay,” Jessie responded, pushing a piece of granola around with her spoon. Oh God how she ached to be back at the cabin with Josh. There he was, at the next table, in her peripheral vision. Yet he may as well have been miles away.
Dee had asked if she would sing Amazing Grace at the funeral. Jessie had half expected to sing; in fact she wanted to. Jackie and her new man had dropped by the bar after Charlie left the night before, and the question was posed then, while Jessie slept. Dee had been fairly certain she would respond positively, for she knew music was easily Jessie’s favored mode of communication. But she wasn’t one hundred percent certain until now. She had arranged for Christian to be flown in to accompany Jessie – he would meet her before the service at the historic Catholic Church to go over any details. Jessie didn’t flinch. But she didn’t eat, either.
Charlie tried a little harder to be present to Jessie that morning, but he wasn’t stupid. He noticed the sideways glances towards Josh. It was killing him. He walked down the street to an indie coffee shop and ordered Jessie a vanilla latte before they had to leave for the church. He was trying.
The funeral went about as smoothly as such things do, and then it was Jessie’s turn to sing. She was in her deep numb place, and tears were not part of the formula. Dee held her hand throughout the service, and Charlie rested an arm casually around her shoulders. Josh was across the aisle, a few rows back, with the rest of the Drifters cast, watching her and wishing he could reach out and pull her close; anything to take away the inimitable angst of the day.
Jessie rose and forced her feet to move in a forward direction. She was no stranger to performance, although she had only done a few shows during the busy shooting season. Still, she had been writing and recording with Charles and his team at the studio on Robson Street, so her voice was well practiced. Amazing Grace was a favorite hymn. She could do this. This was her message to Terri. This was Jessie’s gift to a mother who loved and missed a cherished child. In some way, it was a gift to all of the mothers – to her own, a song of forgiveness, perhaps, on some weird level. To Dee, it was a gift of reassurance and faith.
When Jessie found her place and stood in front of the mic to sing, she was afraid. The entire church held its breath, and even those who stood at the back of the large church could sense the level of mental and physical exhaustion this piqued girl exhibited, standing there so small and vulnerable on God’s stage. She was wearing a mid-thigh length black halter style dress with a small silk pashmina draped carefully over her shoulders, which she grasped tightly at its ends and twisted before the chords of the piano commenced. She looked questioningly out at the hundreds of people in the holy space before her, wondering how they all knew Terri and realizing that some had in all likelihood come to see her. She thought she could do this, but now that she was here, Jessie felt her breath quicken and terror rise from the ends of her toes up to her chest, suddenly suffocating her. She took a step forward and almost stumbled, and somewhere in the far reaches of her mind she heard the congregation take a collective inward breath. She was ready to run, or collapse, whichever came first.
But then Christian called her home with the first few notes of the famous old hymn, which rang solid and true, filling the beautiful century old church with glorious verve and sustenance. And she spied Josh, sitting there, urging her on, believing in her, understanding her pain. And so she closed her eyes and thought of Terri mostly, but sometimes Rachel and Sandy too, and of her dad, and then of Josh again when she opened her eyes and met his, twenty feet away. He believed in her and she felt he was there on the altar with her, and when she sang, she sang with purity and truth. She could feel God’s serene divine presence all around her, and Josh was a part of that, and Jessie was in that glorious bubble, and the air was suddenly effervescent and fresh where before it was dusky and dry.
The tears did not come then, nor after, for she saw what the music did for people as they were silent and watchful and at the same time a part of the old hymn, and of course then she was so certain of where she belonged and of her purpose in this crazy life that Jessie knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if she trusted in God then all would be well; and that Terri was well, and Rachel and Sandy were well, and her dad, who gave her the gift of music in the first place, was well.
Josh couldn’t smile as he watched her sing up there. He was once again entranced and mystified by this sad girl and her power to heal through song, and he wondered if she could heal herself. And so he couldn’t bring himself to smile, yet he couldn’t cry, in fact it was all he could do to remember to breathe. He held her gaze as Jessie drew her power from him and from the presence of God; and to her somehow they had become intermingled and entwined and were one and the same.
Charlie sat opposite Josh, a few rows ahead, so that he had to turn his head to see whom it was that had given Jessie the final strength and composure to sing; yet he didn’t need to look because he knew, and although the music touched him too, as it did everyone in the church that day, he was not part of the bubble and so he was forced to sit on the outside looking in, and on that day, it was a hard place to be. So he did indeed let the tears flow, for what safer place was there to cry than at a funeral for a young girl, amongst mourners who could have no way of knowing that what you were really crying for was a desperate grasp at hope for something you had likely already lost.
She was so beautiful, standing there, her brown-red hair sidelit by the sun through a large stained glass window of the Madonna and Child, and the hymn was transcendent. All of the churchgoers were given a gift that day as Jessie’s voice filled the rafters - the gift of a glorious moment in time when all is perfectly, supremely well with the world.
With the exception of Charlie.
For, watching her watching him – and vice versa – it was finally crystal clear that the battle was lost, and the world
would never be right again.
***
After the funeral, most attendees travelled the five kilometers to a comfortable middle-class subdivision populated with split-levels and Cape Cods, with manicured lawns and garden ornaments and paved driveways bordered with yellow geraniums and pink impatiens. The rented Ford SUV Charlie was driving carried Jessie as well as Charles and Dee. They had to park well down the street but none of the travellers minded. They were all thankful for fresh air, even though in this case it was the hot and muggy type.
They trudged together up the street, oblivious of the stares of those around them. Dee had her arm around Jessie, and Charlie was half listening to Charles as the older man commented on the native climate and the indigenous shrubbery. Charlie’s lips were drawn tight. Inside, he was reeling. His skin felt cold and clammy and his stomach, aided by the heat and last night’s bourbon, threatened to erupt. Still, despite the fact that he was walking with a slight hunch, he was a handsome, striking man, and giggling girls who had seen all of his films lined the neighboring walkways in their brightly colored short summer dresses and flip-flops. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at Jessie. He had taken her for granted. He was a shmuck. Why is it that human nature often doesn’t allow us to see what we have until it’s gone? Still…the wedding was a go, as far as he knew. Yet what purpose is there to a celebration of love between two people when one of the partners is clearly not going to be fully present? And the other…well, what purpose is there to a celebration of love when the other partner knows the woman he is marrying will only be his in name, and not in spirit?
It was enough to make Charlie stop and sit on Jackie’s pressure treated wooden steps as soon as he reached the backyard deck. He glanced up at Jessie as she passed with Dee. Their eyes met briefly, and neither saw hate in the other’s countenance, but the air was thick with unspoken emotion. Jessie continued on past Charlie, leaving him sitting there wondering whether he could win her back. He would spend the entire remainder of his life regretting and pondering and trying and hoping. But how do you win back the love of someone who was never really yours? Someone who was half-dead when you met, and who only really came back to life when she met and began to love - really love - someone else?
Jessie wandered into the house with Dee and was instantly surrounded by the well-meaning friends and family of Terri. They thanked her for attending and for singing, and then Jackie stepped into the circle of curious talkative folks and fans and asked Jessie to accompany her on a walk. The house bordered a lovely stream, so they headed down the backyard in that direction, as the warm wind blew softly around them, raising bits of recently mowed grass and swirling it around their toes.
“I suppose you’re wondering why Terri ever left home in the first place,” Jackie started bravely.
Jessie looked back at the modest comfortable home with its aged siding, older roof and small backyard barbecue. She’d known many folks who harbored deep secrets, people who society raised on a pedestal, but whom she herself escaped. It was the impoverished street people Jessie felt safest with – they were the salt of the earth, the folks you could trust. The ones you didn’t necessarily feel you had to run away from, or portray a false identity with, or try to impress. They accepted you as you were. No, what confused Jessie about Terri’s departure from what appeared on the outside to be an ordinary safe environment was her mother – Jackie – a woman who appeared to be hard-working, smart, confident. Where had the lines been crossed? Why did a talented young girl like Terri leave home? Everywhere she looked, Jessie saw echoes of her life in P.E.I. And they were not necessarily echoes she wanted to recall at that moment, or at any moment, really.
She shrugged in response to Jackie’s question. “I don’t need to know her reasons for leaving. I just know she had them.”
They turned right and wandered a few feet along a trail before Jessie stopped and pulled off her high heels. She wasn’t wearing pantyhose on this hot day, so the earthy feel of the dirt path was a relief, a respite from the heat. Jackie followed suit, somewhat relieved that the famous girl in her company didn’t seem to have any hang-ups about being herself or trying to portray someone who was better than everyone else at the funeral. Instead, here she was, walking in bare feet and seemingly the happiest Jackie had seen her all day, although happy on that day was purely relative.
“As a mother, I ask myself every day why she left. I guess I feel it’s my responsibility to know. To understand. She never really said why.”
“Does it matter? Really?” Jessie stopped and looked at the strong woman beside her, and wondered where the cracks were and if she’d see them on this day. She was thankful Jackie wasn’t cowed by her presence as many people were, acting all funny and whispering and trying to please her.
Jackie turned and looked back at her daughter’s friend. “Of course it matters. She is my daughter. Of course it matters.”
Jessie felt like she was standing there talking to her own mother, a disembodied voice in the wilderness communicating in a roundabout way. It was disconcerting, and she tightened her belly muscles and squeezed her hands into fists. She had told herself for years she didn’t care about her own mother. But now – for the tiniest moment she wondered if she’d been selfish. She wondered if her mother suffered, as it seemed this woman did. She speculated about whether her mother was still alive and, if so, did she know who Jessie was? That she was a successful recording artist, an Oscar winning actor? All of these thoughts and more fought for dominion in her brain as she stared at the mother of the girl whose funeral she had just attended.
Jackie seemed to read her thoughts as a squirrel ran out in front of them and scuttled up a nearby maple tree. “What about your own mother?” she asked. “Do you ever see her? Are you in touch?”
She took Jessie’s arm and they wandered a little further, listening to the steady trickle of the water dancing happily over the rocks below.
“No,” Jessie admitted. Why was it she felt she could tell Jackie anything? It was their feelings for Terri that drew them together, but there was something genuine about this small woman Jessie instantly liked. Such a strange few days, with Jessie definitely preferring to be alone, yet she suddenly felt overwhelmingly comfortable in Jackie’s presence.
She added, “Although Charlie has me a little worried about the guest list for the wedding. He seems to think I need to see her again. His idea, not mine.”
“Was it so bad when you left?”
She paused. “Yeah.” Jessie looked down at the sand between her toes. “Not her, so much, on purpose, at least.” She was rambling, trying to find the right words. “Just that after my dad died everything kind of went to hell in a handbag. She just started moving in a whole other direction that didn’t include me. So I left. I figured I could make it on my own. And I did.” She omitted the part about Deuce McCall and Charleston and bloody white carpet and tragedy and homelessness and drugs. But Jackie could read her face. She knew some of what Jessie had been through – the drugs and the homelessness. Everyone knew. That was part of her allure – that Jack Deacon had found her on the streets. Jessie Wheeler was a real-life Cinderella.
“What about the wedding?” Jackie asked.
Shit, Jessie thought. Pushy. Jackie and Dee will be fast friends in no time.
“What about it?” She wasn’t being mean, just standoffish, accustomed to the celebrity bubble. So why did her stomach clench?
“I realize it’s not the best of times, but I feel like I’m not seeing a couple in love out there.” She gestured towards the house. “Seems pretty obvious.”
Ohhh, thought Jessie. Then you’re obviously not looking at the right couple. Silently she kicked herself, hard enough so she almost winced.
“We’ve been apart for a while. We have to get back on track, that’s all. We need to spend some time together.” She reached up and scratched a new mosquito bite on her cheek. It was red, and almost made her look as if she’d been crying. Jackie felt a surge of m
aternal love for this girl, the only person who really believed her daughter could climb out of the pit in which she found herself. The only girl who spent time with Terri, encouraged her, believed in her, when she herself had obviously suffered deeply too.
“Jessie, honey…” she said. “You know you deserve to be happy, right?”
“I will be.” Ah-ha! Boy, did that sneak up on me! An admission! Realizing she’d been caught, Jessie softened a little and smiled at Jackie. She repeated herself, more emphatically this time. “I will be.”
Jackie didn’t press any further. Once again she took Jessie’s arm, and they wandered down the trail swatting at mosquitos and watching squirrels and generally just enjoying what was turning out to be, surprisingly, a really pleasant day.
***
Back at the inn, Jessie got into the Baileys again, only this time she supplemented it with equal parts rum and milk. She and Charlie were in their country themed room with its blue plaid curtains and pine end tables, and Charlie was pulling off his tie as she poured her second drink.
Jessie sauntered over to him and asked him to unzip her dress, and he did, and then she reached down to the hem and yanked it up over her head so that she was just wearing a short black slip with a black bra underneath. She plopped down on the bed with the TV remote, her drink, and a heavy sigh. She reached behind and adjusted the pillows so they comfortably supported her back.
When she appeared to be somewhat settled, Charlie struck. It was now or never. “We have to fix this, Jessie. And you have to tell me how.”
A Song For Josh, Drifters Book One Page 29