He spoke. “What are you running from, Annie?”
She danced around the question. He was hitting awfully close to home. “No more than you are, Jacob.”
“I’m not running from anyone.”
“Prove it.”
He slouched lower against the wall and his deep blue eyes bore holes into Jessie’s heart. Oh God. I refuse to allow myself to love this man.
“Can we talk about this inside? I’m perished.” He was stalling, but it was effective. She was freezing too.
Jessie turned and led the way back indoors as Jacob picked up his guitar and followed. Once inside, she undid his jean jacket one button at a time as he unzipped her bomber.
Without making eye contact she said carefully, “What about your father, Jacob? Aren’t you running from him?”
She slipped the jacket from his shoulders and hung it on the nearby coat rack by hers. Stepping out of her boots, she waited for a response as he used first one toe and then the other to coerce his own boots off.
He was thinking she took off my jacket and hung it up. He felt a little relieved – she was going to let him stay. That was a good sign. He responded to her question. “I’m not exactly running from him. He has the power to help me – financially, and in my career – but he’s refused. In the last twenty-four years he hasn’t acknowledged that I’m even alive. He’s not in my good books.”
“Why? Doesn’t he want you to be a singer? He is.” But she felt like she was lying to Jacob now, by virtue of withholding her own truths. Jesus. If anybody could help Jacob in his career, it would be me. If I wanted to go back to my old life. She felt like such a damned imposter, standing there in front of this man who had the power to remove Josh from her life forever. But being with Jacob would be based on a lie.
Maybe it would be worth it, she caught herself thinking, looking at him standing there in his T-shirt and jeans, an expression of utter defeat on his face. She had just raised some bad memories for him, the child of a well-known singer. No wonder they were drawn together, she and Jacob. They may have come at their music differently but they were still connected, through shared fame, shared experiences with fame, the power of music to corrupt, even, on some level.
Oh God, she thought. This is gonna hurt.
Then she pulled Jacob close and eased his fears once and for all by running her tongue over his soft, sorrowful lips, and easing his pout for yet one more night.
***
The next morning Jacob awoke to languorous jazz and a clutter in the kitchen. He rolled out of bed and threw on his jeans to find Katrine at the counter, whipping up something in a large mixing bowl. Annie was nowhere to be seen.
“Your woman, she off to store to buy string.”
“String?” Jacob asked, curious, as he stretched adorably.
Katrine raised her eyebrows and then reached out a hand to touch her friend’s bare chest. “Jacob. You break my heart with this girl. Yes, string. For guitar, string, you know?” She waved a hand impatiently.
He dipped a finger into the mixing bowl and was rewarded with a slap. “Ouch! Oh, guitar strings! Shit, I have lots in my case.”
“Out of my bowl! Heathen.”
Jacob grinned, happy again. He wandered over to his guitar case and unfastened the clips. Inside, he found a few boxes of strings. He pulled one out and let the cover fall closed, then wandered across the room to Jessie’s guitar case. Staring at the old peeling stickers on the front, he ran his fingers over a yellow smiley face stuck on the neck. Below that was a faded decal for a band called Rawlins Cross. He had never heard of them, and he wondered if that was a clue as to where Annie was from. Jacob took the liberty of opening the case, and then he dropped in the strings.
“Why do I break your heart with this girl, Katrine?” he asked lightheartedly as he wandered back to the counter and perched comfortably on a stool as Katrine brewed him an espresso.
As she turned and tried to appear nonchalant, he saw that her smile was forced.
“Because,” she said, handing him a small mug. “She wear that ring like a noose around her neck. And she no nice last night, no? At the pub?”
She went back to mixing. It appeared she was making muffins, according to the ingredients placed around her – chocolate chips, mashed bananas. “She no work, and that ring it no cheap ring, Jacob. Many diamond on that ring,” she said with authority, her little elfin spiked hair with the colored tips standing straight up as if applauding her nerve in saying this to him.
Jacob frowned and stole some chocolate chips from the open bag on the counter. “You’re just jealous,” he said, in no mood to speculate any further on his mysterious Annie. They had made love last night, and it was exquisite. He would learn to block out that offensive ring and maybe soon she would remove it altogether, and the man who gave it to her would lie somewhere deep and dark, covered in dust, lost and forgotten.
“I am, am I?” Katrine said hotly, stirring faster now. “Well,” she said. “Maybe I am. You promise me one more night, Jacob. She make my heart beat fast. You come too,” she shook a doughy wooden spoon at him.
He laughed. Jacob had no further desire to share his new girl with anyone. After last night, he wanted her all to himself.
Just then the door opened and Jessie moseyed in, a small box of guitar strings in her hand. She paused and smiled as she flung off both boots and her jacket. She was wearing leggings under her flouncy western style skirt, and she yanked them down and off before ambling over to Jacob and urging his blushing cheeks forward for a tender kiss. Their eyes met for a moment in complete understanding they would be taking this one day at a time.
“Och, you two make me sick,” Katrine said in mock disgust as she dropped chocolate chips into her bowl. She was trying to smile, for Jacob’s sake, but it was hard. Something just didn’t feel right, and she was descended from three generations of women who claimed to have the second sight. She glanced up at Jessie, who was straddling Jacob’s lap nuzzling his neck and laughing as he whispered to her, a mammoth grin on his one-day-old whiskered face. Underneath his girl’s top at the neck was a slight bulge – the ring. As Jessie leaned forward it slipped out, and Katrine felt its presence stronger than ever before.
The French girl was a good friend to Jacob. Let the pieces fall where they may. She would pick them up when the time came.
Katrine opened the oven door and soon there were fresh muffins for all. Charlene and John Paul joined them eventually and the gang withdrew guitars from cases and spent the afternoon playing music. Jessie relaxed on the floor enveloped in Jacob’s arms while John Paul played for a while, and she counted her blessings as she pulled her new man’s arms tighter around her. He whispered love songs in her ear; she closed her eyes with a contented smile.
Jessie had not been this genuinely happy in what seemed like a very, very long time.
***
Chapter Eleven
The next few months were uneventful with the exception of Jacob and John Paul heading out on some new tours booked after the successful Stirling Festival. Jessie accompanied them on a few but she tried not to appear too comfortable on tour. Extended backstage waits, sound checks, greasy food and lack of sleep were all aspects of touring with which she was far too familiar, but it wouldn’t do to give the boys any clues to her real identity. As an actor, she was able to draw up some convincing performances that none of this was predictable to her. She feigned surprise and acted suitably impressed – like a groupie, hanging on Jacob’s shoulder - carrying out the lie superbly.
Then one day her lies caught up with her, as untruths are wont to do.
It was Jacob whose world came crashing down first. He and John Paul were heading to the States to tour a few cities. Surprising even himself, he also thought about planning a pit stop in his home state of New York to attempt a visit with his famous father. Jacob’s mother had passed away when he was ten. Losing a parent at a young age was yet another reason for him and Jessie to connect.
The day before the trip, Jacob and Katrine hustled off to the grocery store to pick up some Brie and crackers along with a few other party snacks. The friends were planning a get together in celebration of the overseas tour. Jessie remained at Jacob’s flat with Charlene and John Paul, mixing punch and making bruschetta while the others shopped.
“Jacob, you be lost wit-out your girl, eh? What you gonna do wit dat ting of yours? You gonna behave, no?” Katrine backhanded him lightly in the crotch with one arm while she tugged a yellow box of black pepper and olive oil crackers off the shelf with the other.
Groaning, Jacob eyed his friend playfully as he grabbed a carton of eggs from underneath the crackers and laid them on top. “I’m not a dog, Katrine.”
“Ah but you a rock star, Jacob Ryan! All the wimmin, they want you. They see you up there on stage wigglin’ your ting and they want you.” She winked at him before grabbing their cart from its front and hauling it down the aisle towards the checkout counter. “Now eez the big test, can Jacob keep it in his pants or do he really love little meez sorrowful after all?”
“Geez, what do you take me for, Katrine?” His face flaming, Jacob chuckled and started handing brie, hummus and pitas to Katrine to place on the moving belt. A washed-out feeling hit him right between the eyes suddenly, as he thought about life without Annie for the next few weeks. In a very short time the quiet woman had become his muse, his raison d’etre, his everything. He was already missing her.
As Katrine bagged their purchases, Jacob’s eyes were drawn to gossip magazines lining the shelves in the checkout area. His baby blues landed on a cover photo of Jessie Wheeler, the singer and actor missing from Canada for well over a year now. She was leaning against her guitar case, ankles crossed; brown cowboy boots on her feet. The headline read Where in the World is Jessie Wheeler? It was subtitled Superstar’s friends ache for any news.
Distracted, Jacob dropped a bag of roasted almonds onto the moving belt, but as he went back to the cart for the remaining items he felt compelled to take a second look at the magazine cover. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the boots. He thought vaguely they resembled his Annie’s brown boots. Hmm. Well, lots of women own a pair of brown cowboy boots, he thought.
But then he glanced over at Katrine. She paled significantly as she stared at the glossy image. Instantly, Jacob understood something was seriously amiss. He stared at Jessie Wheeler’s face and thought no. There’s no way. But then the truth taunted his patience and faith in the universe and in the girl he’d grown to love.
It was the guitar case.
In the photo an intact yellow happy face sticker decorated the case, but it was in the same place and position as the one on Annie’s guitar, stuck on the neck. Annie’s was peeling, but there was no doubt it was the same, because lower on the case was the faded Rawlins Cross sticker. He had forgotten to research that band, to see where they were from. He never heard of them. And here they were on Jessie Wheeler’s guitar case, in exactly the same place as the stickers on Annie’s case.
“Merde,” mouthed Katrine, her small eyes popping.
Jacob grabbed a few copies of the magazine and somehow kept his wits together as the groceries travelled the black belt to be scanned by a pimply-faced young cashier who blushed at the good looking guy who so brusquely paid for his items.
Outside, Jacob grabbed a magazine and then gave Katrine the keys to Charlene’s Peugeot, which they borrowed for the trip to the store. He ran for the bus, which was stopping at that moment about fifty feet away.
“Where you go, Jacob?” Katrine called after him, distraught.
He didn’t respond. Yes, he had a tour to prepare for, but he wasn’t in the mood for a party now. He felt sick; he needed some time to think. His world was suddenly spinning completely and utterly out of control.
Dazed, Jacob found himself at the train station. He travelled north and got off, numb, at Stirling. He made his way to the William Wallace monument and sat on the landing overlooking the age-old battleground and quaint city until he was bone-shaking cold. Then he huddled wearily into a cab piloted by a greying old local whose Scots brogue he couldn’t hope to understand. They passed over an ancient stone bridge and then the driver dropped Jacob off at Stirling Castle, where he wandered for a while, lost in thought, his anger and despair building minute by minute. Lastly, when it started to drizzle, he wandered down St. Mary’s Wynd and into the Settle Inn, Stirling’s oldest alehouse, where he was warmly greeted with limestone cave-like walls and a bright, roaring fireplace. He slumped under the low ceilings and slogged back a few pints of Addlestone’s cider, which was delicious and refreshing but utterly hopeless at easing his raw heart.
Minus its main guest star, the party went on anyway in full swing back at Jacob’s flat. Jessie texted and texted but Jacob didn’t respond. Jessie had sensed something was dreadfully wrong the moment Katrine walked in the door refusing to speak to her. Her French friend’s face was piqued and drawn. When the girls pushed Katrine for information she ruthlessly waved them away, hurried into Jacob’s room and closed the door behind her. Inside, she pulled a magazine out of her green cloth grocery bag and shoved it deep into her purse. Then she lay down on Jacob’s bed and cried her heart out for him.
Further north, Jacob pondered the facts. His Annie was a superb musician. Add the boots, the guitar case, the distant demeanor when they first made each other’s acquaintance – everything added up. His mind stopped flying around when it got to the ring. Well. It all makes sense now. The exquisite diamonds are her engagement ring from that actor, Josh whatshisname. Sawyer, yes, that’s it. The guy who beat the shit out of her. So…not really a surprise that she ran away.
What was killing Jacob the most, though, were the smaller faces in thumbnail photos on the magazine cover, Jessie Wheeler’s producer, her manager, Charlie Deacon - her friends. They had no idea where she was. They were in agony over her disappearance.
Who was this girl, Annie Hayden, whom Jacob loved? Suddenly everything he knew about her was a lie. Everything. Nothing was true. He cared deeply for a woman who, seemingly on a whim, could leave everyone she loved behind, with no word of her whereabouts or safety to ease their minds. He had fallen in love with a woman who lied to her new friends, including to him. The girl he loved – Annie? Jessie…was a selfish bitch.
Finally, Jacob built up enough nerve to open the magazine and read it. By then he was groggy from the cider and had to force himself to focus, but the message in the article was loud and clear. When he was finished he ripped off the cover and then shoved the magazine in the garbage and stumbled out of the bar, where he puked in the bushes. His heart broke for the people in that story. They really had no idea where their Jessie was, whether or not she was even alive.
But he – Jacob Ryan - knew.
***
Jessie worried for hours over the safety and whereabouts of Jacob. He did not come home to his own party and Katrine adamantly refused to speak to any of the gathered friends. They flopped around the kitchen and living room on stools and hunched against the wall in stunned apprehension, munching tentatively on hummus and veggies, brie and crackers, until at one point John Paul gave in to his fear.
He hammered a fist against Jacob’s bedroom door while Jessie, Charlene and their friends held their collective breaths and eavesdropped. “Katrine, what the hell is going on? What happened? Where’s Jacob?”
He continued banging until a red-eyed Katrine swung open the door, leaned against the wall and folded her arms, facing him. “I don wanna speak wit you right now, mon ami. Jus go away.”
He countered, stubbornly. “No. If you go back inside that room and shut us out, I’m calling the police.”
His eyes followed Katrine’s as she looked past him and fired flaming arrows at Jessie, who was perched despondently on a stool at the kitchen counter. Knitting her eyebrows together in confusion, Jessie straightened as she realized that whatever was going on, it had to do with her. A sudden panic overwhelmed her as s
he curled her fingers into fists.
Katrine’s eyes darted back to John Paul. “Look. I am sure Jacob will be fine, but ‘e need some time to, ‘ow you say, process some new information. I am sure ‘e will still go wit you overseas tomorrow. Now leave me alone. I am not in mood to party right now either.”
Hotly, with a loud bang, she slammed the door in John Paul’s face, leaving him raising both hands in wonder and shock. Puzzled, he shook his head before joining the others back in the kitchen area. Leaning over his elbows on the counter facing Jessie, he didn’t notice her suddenly pale demeanor, or that she was resorting to an old habit of pulling both sleeves down over her hands, as if that small action could hide her from whatever sinister element was steering them down a left hand curve instead of on their planned right that day.
Biting her bottom lip, Jessie silently begged that this new obstacle was not insurmountable, like some of the others she faced in her life over the years. Sickened, she sent a silent prayer to the Gods that Jacob’s disappearance had nothing to do with Deuce McCall, or…anything to do with her past life in Vancouver. But intuitively she knew things were changing yet again, that the cold Scottish ground was shifting beneath her feet.
By midnight Jacob was making his way up the cobblestoned street to Jessie’s place. It was now March and the heavy wet snow was melting into dirty slushy puddles that seeped into his boots as he trudged along. He was cold and miserable, the dampness of the drizzle beyond clinging to him; now it permeated his weary bones altogether.
Subdued, he tiptoed up the stairs to the second floor as if he was afraid of where this new journey would take him – them – then he planted his feet outside Jessie’s flat, lifted his chin, and forced himself to knock on the door.
Inside, asleep in the big chair by the window, Jessie woke with a start. There it was again – a soft, hesitant knock, as if the person standing there wasn’t sure whether he or she really wanted to come in or not.
No Greater Love Page 11