Dee stood and crossed the room, welcoming Charlie with a hug while the sweet and kind Carlotta accepted the flowers and went off in search of a vase. Dee led Charlie into the room, his hand in hers, and Jessie found herself fighting unsolicited feelings and thoughts of Traitor! She stood and gave Charlie a little hug too, though, because in her heart Jessie would always love this man…just not in the same way she had opened up and come to love Josh.
As the evening went on they all talked amicably and, even though there was tension in the room, after the Chablis they relaxed enough to sort through some wedding details as well as some thoughts on how the press conference should go in the morning. Jessie found herself wringing her hands and constantly checking her iPhone for the time. By ten thirty she had pretty much given up on any chance of getting to the wrap party before midnight. It seemed the Deacons were at La Casa to stay when, at one point, Charles got up and brought in a few more selections of good wine. Jessie’s checks of the iPhone did not go unnoticed, and then the wine seemed to take a sharp curve into bitterness when Charlie called her on it. He knew about the wrap party. Stephen’s brother Derek had brought it up when they were playing cards that afternoon at Charlie’s Club.
“Jessie,” Charlie said quietly after he caught her trying to discreetly check her text messaging for the umpteenth time. It was the first time he spoke to her directly all evening. For the most part the conversation was routed through the older adults.
Everyone perked up as he spoke.
“Got someplace else you’d rather be?”
It was an immediate dig at her, designed to make his parents feel like they were imposing. She turned a cool look to him. “No,” she lied. “Just checking the weather for tomorrow. I’m flying.”
“Hmmm, yes, I’m aware that you’re flying tomorrow. We all are.” He settled deeper into the cushion at his side, and peered at Jessie, who was seated uncomfortably next to him on the chaise.
You little shit, she thought. She felt bad enough about the wedding without having to be reminded that all of their prodigious plans for the following weekend were now awry.
Things took another dark turn when Jack leaned forward and poured himself some more wine. “Jessie,” he said. “I’m going to play devil’s advocate here and throw out a question you’re probably not going to like.”
Oh shit, here it comes, Jessie thought, as her insides turned to jelly. She couldn’t swallow without wine to wash down the dryness in her throat. She looked up at Jack, expectantly terrified, as the others in the elegant room twisted the stems of their wine glasses and stared at the floor.
“I just need to know, once and for all, and then I promise not to ask this question of you again. What’s keeping you and my son from reconciling?” Jack watched her for a sign of what she was thinking. He was an award-winning actor. The man understood body language.
Jessie had to look away. Her gaze went to Charlie, who was holding an almost empty glass of wine in his hand that was dangerously close to spilling on the chaise. He was despondent. She thought Jack had a right to know, but at the same time Jessie felt Charlie was letting him fight his battles for him. He had always been a selfish child.
She took a deep lungful of air, and reached out and gripped Charlie’s hand. The collectively held breaths of Charles, Dee, and Lydia could be heard as they were slowly exhaled.
“I love Charlie,” she started slowly, pointedly, at Jack as if he were the only one in the room. Their friendship went back a long time. The sorrow in his eyes was killing her. The only sounds in the room were the long-case clock ticking like the only surviving heartbeat in the corner, and the soft breeze outside the window, in upon which wafted the sweet scent of roses commingling with lilacs. “I will always love Charlie. He and I spent eight years together – sort of,” she added with a wan smile, at which Lydia and Dee looked up and exchanged glances. They understood the difficulties the two had endured in maintaining a relationship through distance and tough scheduling.
Jessie continued, and managed to refrain from letting go of Charlie’s hand to twist ringlets in her hair, reminding herself she was an adult and that Jack meant a great deal to her. “Jack, I don’t see Charlie and I working through this. I think, for a long time, that I thought we could, but,” she shook her head slowly for emphasis, “that time has passed.”
He watched her and noted that she didn’t give anything away. Oh, the joys of trying to analyze the body language of an Oscar winning actor. “Jessie,” he implored in a low, deep voice tinged with hurt. “I beg you to reconsider.” He gestured at Lydia. “We beg you to reconsider. Every couple goes through aches and pains. We all think we need a little break now and again. That’s why they say marriage is so much work – it’s not always Hollywood romance.”
He looked and sounded as if he were talking to a child. But Jessie realized that Jack was just grasping at straws. In desperation, he was leaning towards her over the coffee table littered with the refuse of their earlier discussions, half drunk wine and crumbs of cheese and crackers. That seemingly heartfelt talk now seemed moot, irreconcilable with what he was asking of her now. She shook her head slowly, squeezing her wine glass so tightly Charles thought she might break it in her hands. Tears pricked her eyelids, but she held fast. She knew what – whom - she wanted, beyond a shadow of a doubt, and that person was at a party right now waiting for her – she hoped. However, as the night motored slowly on with every tick of that cursed clock, Jessie knew her chances of having the time to spend with Josh to explain, before she got on that plane tomorrow, were dwindling. She felt like shit, sitting next to the man whose heart she had broken, trying to communicate as she looked at his parents – and her sort-of parents – that she had been asleep all those years with Charlie, and that in some magical way she had just incredibly come back to life. How does one explain such an intangible thing to people who thought she was alive the whole time? To those who believed in her and loved her, even when she was really just a shell? How does one tell those people Thank you for being my island to float on while I waited for…Josh.
She wanted to fly away. To disappear. To create a sinkhole in the floor. But mostly, she wanted to be at the house near UBC where a grand ole party was taking place, and where she had planned to say good-bye to the cast and crew with whom she’d worked and whom she loved for a tumultuous but ultimately grandly successful Drifters season one. It was killing her, sitting here on the spot like this, knowing she had hurt these kind and caring people.
“No.” It was definitive, final.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Jack was as serious as Jessie had ever seen him. She was a little afraid. She was fearful of men sometimes, even the nice ones. Deep down when left to their own devices they all held the same power over women, and it frightened her. It took a lot of willpower for Jessie to learn to control her fear of men in general. It took heaves of inner strength.
She shivered, and he noticed. He remembered where he had met her. Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw Deirdre cringe. She, too, would be recalling Jessie’s untold past, the mystery that was Jessie Wheeler, the inherent and ever present sadness – the haunting songs, the ethereal music.
Jack Deacon sat back. Jessie visibly relaxed.
“What is it you’re asking, Jack?” she mustered up the courage to ask. If she were going to someday introduce Josh into her life in the way she ached to, she would have to go public. But she did not want to do that here, now. Josh was not officially in her life – yet. She would be betraying him by assuming he would even be interested in being with her. Life with Jessie Wheeler would be extremely visible and public. Josh’s past was less than exemplary. The media would have the power to destroy him. She pushed a haggard thought of Deuce McCall out of her mind. Surely to God he was not Terri’s man in a blue overcoat. Surely to God he would not interfere in Jessie’s life again. Surely Josh would be safe with her.
Lydia could see her kind husband working his mind, trying to figure out how
to say something that would be painful and obtrusive, but necessary. She extended her arm and laid a hand gently over his.
“Jessie,” she implored. “Jack and I know our son well. Charlie has always liked the girls. This is not a surprise to us. His behavior has finally caught up with him. What surprises us is that, one - he loves you and has been with you for eight years. And, two - that you have put up with his careless lifestyle for so long. I guess we figured the two of you had worked something out between you. We know that you know he loves you – that the girls have been a diversion, of sorts. Maybe they kept the spice alive all this time, I don’t know. But he has been doing better, since the two of you got engaged, he’s been faithful, haven’t you, Charlie?” She glanced over at her son, who seemed to want to melt into the fancy chaise. “So our question for you is this – why now? Why end the relationship now, when things seem to be improving?”
“Mom, that’s between Jessie and me. Just drop it, okay? Dad?”
“Charlie, what have you done that’s finally broken the peace between the two of you? I mean, after all your carousing and partying, what…”
“Dad, it’s not something I care to discuss. And anyways, it’s not something I’ve done, and I’ve got news for all of you, so listen up, okay?” Charlie leaned forward and glanced around the room. Charles and Dee were quietly holding hands. Jessie was surprised. She rarely saw them hold hands. Charlie continued. “It was me that ended the engagement. Not Jessie. Me.”
Jessie felt her cheeks color again. She looked past the Deacons to the window, and longed to be outside in the lavender patch. She could see the tall plant waving in the moonlight, its healing and soothing properties manna to her soul. Oh how she longed to lie down amongst the lavender just then, and close her eyes and disappear.
Charlie lurched up and left the room. She could hear him padding through the hallway to the back door that led to the patio and pool. The door opened and closed. He was gone. Jessie stood up to follow. She leaned over Lydia and then Jack and gave them both hugs. She vaguely remembered saying she was very, very sorry. Then she traced Charlie’s path to the outdoors, and found him on the double porch swing facing Dee’s expansive gardens. She settled down beside him and was surprised to see how emotional he was.
“Charlie,” she said beseechingly. “How can you tell me you’re surprised? You must have seen this coming.”
“Seen what coming,” he drawled. “Us breaking up or you fucking Josh Sawyer?”
“Both,” she said. And then, “And I’m not fucking Josh, as you so coarsely put it.”
Charlie glanced over at her from his side of the swing. He leaned back and soaked up the moonlight. He didn’t have a clue whether to believe her or not.
“Charlie,” she asked softly. “Why haven’t you told your parents about Josh? They likely deserve to know the truth.”
He groaned. “And let them know what a dick I am? To lose you to that fucking swine?”
She got up to go, then, because she didn’t want to fight with him and she didn’t want him putting down a man she had come to know as selfless and kind. But he grabbed her arm.
“Jessie. I’m sorry. Don’t go, please. Just – sit with me a while.”
She sat back down, and he spoke a little more. “I know Josh is a decent guy. I know that. But you have to admit he’s one step away from the edge. He’ll always be one step away from the edge – you can’t grow up in his family and not be somewhat fucked up, not if you’re Josh, at least, whose father hated him. I know it. I saw it. How can you imagine that I will ever feel good about letting you go to him?”
He reached out and took her chin in his hand, held her face up to the moonlight. God, she is beautiful. It was killing him more every day to realize that this was final. She was lost to him now. Forever. He doubted the immensity of the loss would ever fully sink in.
“Jess,” he beseeched her. “How do you think I feel knowing you’ve never, ever looked at me the way I saw you look at him in Oregon? At the funeral? And not just at the funeral? What is it about him that is so fucking real?” Charlie was close to losing it.
Jessie accepted his defeat graciously. She placed her hand gently over his as he held her chin, and then she rubbed his wrist, lifted the hand and held it against her cheek.
“I don’t know, Charlie.” It was kind of a cop out but, in truth – she didn’t know. She shook her head, mystified. “I think that, with you, I just kind of detached myself. What the hell, I was already detached when I met you. You know that, Charlie.” She kissed his hand. She had never in all their time together ever seen him this way, this broken. “There you were, bigger than life, unreachable really, with all your women and your partying and your club and your luxurious lifestyle…I was always on the outside looking in. Always.”
She turned and leaned against him, and they sat there, his arm around her as they rocked slowly back and forth on the swing. It was quite lovely, the two of them sitting there and saying their good-byes this way.
“And?” he asked, his voice husky. “What about Josh? Why is it different with him?”
She poked him in the ribs and smiled. “You mean, what has he got that you haven’t got?”
“Something like that.” She thought she detected a slight grin in there somewhere.
“Huh. Lemme think for a second.”
“You have to think about it?!”
“Charlie, please…it’s not like that. It’s not like some contest between you. It’s more like… he’s present in my life in ways you’ve never been. He’s – damaged – like me.” She said the last part quietly; as if she were afraid to share such a deep, intense, essential part of her soul to the man she was supposed to have married in three days.
She could hear Charlie suck in his breath behind her. She could feel his chest move.
“So you like him because he’s fucked up.” But this time it wasn’t a judgment. It was a simple truth. A realization from a man who needed to know and understand completely the why of a horrible situation so he could, somehow, pick up the pieces and begin to move on. “Dear God. Oh, Jessie,” he said, and buried his face in her soft hair. He gave her a squeeze and they sat that way for a while longer as she stared at the stars and the planets and the infinity, mystery and wonder of a great universe, and questioned why now, when it was too late, was Charlie suddenly interested in her. For the briefest moment she wondered if that would change anything – the knowing that he needed to delve deeper into her in order to keep her. If he tried harder, would things change? She doubted it. She thought that maybe for a while things would be better. But likely not forever.
The back door opened and Jack came out and stood under the warmth of the outside porch lights. He lit up a cigar and watched the two young people sitting there together, snuggled closely on the swing with Charlie’s foot giving them gentle pushes. For a moment he thought perhaps they were reconciling, but no…after their discussion indoors, it wasn’t likely. Oh well. It was reassuring to see that if they couldn’t reunite, at least they stood a chance at having a civil break-up. He watched them for a bit as he smoked, then Charlie gave him a wave. Jack wandered over and said goodnight to Jessie. She stood and gave him one last hug, and he asked her to please come see him and Lydia once in a while.
“Two old fogies who will miss their girl,” he pleaded.
She smiled and said, “Of course.”
After he left, the door slamming shut behind him, Jessie crossed her arms and paced back and forth a little. Charlie looked up at her from the swing.
“Ah,” he said. “You do have a wrap party to get to, don’t you?”
She shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s late. It must be after midnight.”
“Those things go on all night, girl. Don’t let me stand in your way of seeing lover boy.” He stood to go, and faced her there in the starlight. He studied the consternation on her face. “What? Need a ride? Too much vino?”
She took
in a breath and peered closely at him. “Charlie. This is between us, okay? This thing about Josh? No one knows.”
“Bullshit, no one knows. You can tell just by looking at the two of you.”
“I mean it, Charlie. Look, Josh and I had this thing ages ago, just after you messed around with those women in Europe and ended up in the tabloids. I told you it didn’t last more than a few weeks, and that was the truth. Nothing has happened between us since. And that’s the honest to goodness rock hard truth.”
He looked confused. “What are you trying to say?” And then the truth dawned on him like that rogue Prince Edward Island wave on the north shore on a windy day. Salt and spray everywhere. He licked his lips. This was almost too good to be true. It begged a sense of humor, even from a jilted fiancé. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Then, “Jessie Wheeler. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
She looked at him with pain and pleasure in her eyes, and cocked her head sideways. She grinned just a little cause his sudden good humor was infectious.
“Jessie. Are you telling me Josh doesn’t know? He doesn’t know the wedding’s off, and even more so he doesn’t know that he’s the whipped cream on your mocha? The vanilla in your latte?”
“Charlie. You do have a way with words.”
He looked at her and shook his head as the swing creaked nearby in the breeze, unfettered by the complications of human nature.
“Lucky fucking bastard.”
“But you do say fuck too much.”
As they sauntered arm-in-arm into the Keating home, Charlie was beside himself. He was shaking his head as the door slammed behind him, and all Deirdre heard as she poured herself a glass of water in the kitchen twenty feet away was, “Christmas, as a ten year-old waiting for a new X-Box, has nothing on this. Can I come and watch?”
A Song For Josh, Drifters Book One Page 33