No Greater Love

by Susan Rodgers

  She threw her blanket aside, jumped out of the chair and ran for the door. Flinging it open, she almost collapsed from relief when she saw Jacob. It wasn’t lost on her that she had only worried and wondered about his whereabouts for about twelve hours. Guilt washed over her like a tidal wave.

  “Jacob,” she breathed, a moistness forming in her eyes, which flicked from their usual ice blue to a warmer vibrant hue when she saw him. She grabbed his denim jacket with both hands and hauled her disconsolate sullen man into her flat, then slammed the door behind him. “Baby, you’re soaked.”

  He was a sight – wet, sorrowful, deeply troubled. But he was with her now, safe from harm, or so she thought.

  “Tell me what happened,” she demanded, uncertain, afraid of how his whole world may have collapsed that day - and hers as well, although she only felt that change was afoot. She didn’t know for certain.

  He shook his head. Jacob was in retreat mode by then. He was not up to speaking just yet.

  She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. “Did something happen at home? At the store? Katrine wouldn’t say a word.”

  She started to unbutton his jacket, as always, her deft fingers gently touching each button and releasing it in a way she felt on some weird level might unlock his pain. Jessie wanted him inside her place, inside her body, where he belonged. She wanted to hold him in her arms and warm him up, dry him off, run her fingers over the Celtic cross tattoo on his back. She wanted him. Period.

  He was tired and obviously distraught. Jessie would have to wait to hear what happened – perhaps it wasn’t what she feared. Maybe he and Katrine witnessed a robbery or worse, a murder? A car accident? For the moment, though, she tenderly took his hand and started to lead him into her bedroom. He paused and stared at the guitar case perched in its usual place against the wall. There were the telltale stickers, harsh in the faded moonlight streaming into the flat - jarring, staring, accusing him of being a fool.

  Jessie turned to see what he was looking at, but all she could see in his weary eyes was grief, echoing from some deep abyss inside her lover’s soul.

  She urged him under a hot shower and, afterwards, dried him off as if he were helpless, as Josh once did for her. It was then that Jacob finally put a hand behind her head and brought her lips to his. He kissed her so beautifully and tenderly she felt her knees go weak; then he led her to the bed and took her roughly, with a passion borne of impending loss. Jacob was an intense lover, whereas Josh was more patient and gentle. Jessie welcomed Jacob’s desire; he made her feel alive and helped her bear the scars seared inside her spirit by the rough hands of Deuce McCall. They were different, the men she loved so fully and completely, yet they were the same – loving and powerful in their adoration for her. She thrilled to their touches, each his own man, and she loved them both back with a fierce fire, electrical pulses flicking up and down her skin fueled by their hungry, intimate strokes and caresses.

  Tonight, Jessie wrapped her arms around Jacob and surrendered to his needs. This time it was he who sobbed when he was done loving her and as he cried Jacob remembered John Paul’s heartfelt words, she is sorrowful. As Jacob’s body shook from grief just born and grief yet to come, Jessie held him tight. He did as he always did - he laid his head on her chest. One leg was wrapped around one of hers, the other on the bed, his body pressed close. Holding him as he suffered was unbearable. If Jessie could take away his pain, she would, instantly, without question. But as it was, there was nothing she could do. He was silent except for the deep racking sobs that shook his body. Soon he was quiet, and Jessie heard his breathing slow as he drifted off to sleep. She would have to wait to find out what so desperately troubled him. More than anyone, she understood the need for truths to come in their own time.

  Morning was soon upon them; Jessie only slept a few hours and, instead, spent most of the night cautiously tousling her fingers through Jacob’s curls as he slumbered. Finally, in the midst of a muddled dream where she wandered purposefully with her dad amongst Prince Edward Island sunflowers and butterflies, she heard Jacob’s cell ringing, and so she gently nudged him awake. He needed to hurry home to throw some clothes in a bag – his flight was leaving at nine.

  Grudgingly, Jacob managed to find the floor with his tired feet, and Jessie dressed him. She loved him dearly, and he was leaving her today for two long weeks, in a state that upset and worried her. She would call Katrine. Maybe her friend would open up once a little time passed between yesterday’s drama and this new day.

  “Will you talk to me, please?” she begged Jacob before he made a final escape, and Jessie remembered a time when she shut Josh out completely, as Jacob was doing to her now. Her stomach was suddenly on fire as the pain of how she hurt Josh came surging back to haunt her.

  Jacob leaned against the doorframe in his typical fashion, hands thrust deep in his jeans pockets, head cocked to the side, lifeless tired eyes boring into her anxious baby blues.

  “When I get home,” he whispered.

  “What if I can’t wait that long?” she begged, her anxious fingers running up the buttons of his jacket, pulling him back together.

  She saw a flicker of a sarcastic smile flit across his face. He was thinking selfish, selfish stupid girl. The images of Charles and Deirdre Keating floated in and out of his mind. How long have they been waiting for news?

  Standing there staring at the girl he knew as Annie, Jacob tried to fit the image of Jessie Wheeler into her face. He wanted to lift her hair and squint, take a closer look. But then again…as he turned to go, grief once more beleaguered his expression. Really, all things said and done, he just wanted his Annie back. But she was lost forever to him now, for even if this girl chose to stay in his life, she would never be the same again. She would be some hybrid of Annie Hayden and Jessie Wheeler. Jessie Wheeler. A girl with the power to help him in his career. Someone who was so wrapped up in herself she couldn’t see to help him.

  Jacob stumbled into the darkness and turned to make his way up the hill towards his flat. He felt lost, forgotten, irrelevant.

  He felt completely and utterly alone.

  Jessie watched him from her window. Jacob was crouching, stumbling almost. He appeared to have closed himself off and wrapped himself into a little ball, as if he could hug away the pain that permeated his spirit. Jessie Wheeler knew the feeling. She had been there, many times. Seeing Jacob that way scared her to the depths of her being. Something terrible had happened yesterday that shook Jacob to the core. She prayed that her instincts were wrong, that it had nothing to do with her, and that he would return safely in the planned two weeks.

  The repercussions of Jessie’s abrupt disappearance swept over her like a Prince Edward Island North Shore wind in January. It chilled her to the bone and there was nowhere to hide. As time passed she had occasionally flirted with the notion that she caused pain amongst her loved ones back in Vancouver, and it hurt. But only now, with the tables turned, seeing Jacob stagger out of her life on this cold March morning, did the full impact of her actions sink in.

  He disappeared from view, and Jessie was alone again.

  ***

  Chapter Twelve

  John Paul was immensely annoyed with Jacob throughout their short tour. His friend was distant and depressed. That would have been acceptable if Jacob provided a reason, but he chose to keep his troubles to himself. John Paul managed the stress in his usual way, with women and drink.

  The tour itself was unremarkable overall although as per usual it was grueling in terms of sleep deprivation and an over-consumption of greasy fries and cheeseburgers. However, on the last night, about an hour before they hit the stage at a club in Austin, Texas, Jacob hoisted his feet up on a chair in the green room, sat back, and announced to John Paul that he would not be travelling back to Edinburgh the next day as planned.

  “Jesus, Jacob, been thinking about this long, have we?” John Paul grabbed a flimsy plastic chair and pulled it around so he could sit with his ar
ms hugging the backrest.

  “It’s not like I need to hold your hand, JP. You know your way around an airport.”

  “We have a gig in a few days.”

  “Fine, yeah, I’ll be back. I just need to take a little detour.”

  John Paul raised his arms in disbelief. “A detour where, my friend? Are you going to New York, after all?” He knew Jacob was estranged from his father. But maybe his friend was ready to mend those broken ties. In that case, JP could be forgiving.

  “Not New York,” Jacob said, although with the emergence of Jessie’s plight he was thinking a lot about his father and even his grandparents lately, on his deceased mother’s side. Although generally uncooperative and critical, they were still his grandparents, raising him from the time he was ten. Jacob only contacted them once or twice a year and that was generally via email so he wouldn’t risk getting into an argument over the phone. Next time he came to the States he would go see them. When he arrived back in Scotland he would send them another email, maybe.

  “Look JP, I don’t want to discuss this with you here, now. But there’s somewhere I need to go. I’ll tell you what’s going on when I get back, okay?”

  “Dammit, you’ve been approached by someone. You’ve got another guitar player, or band, or someone is asking you to go solo.” John Paul jumped up and kicked the chair so that it skitted across the room on its side.

  Crossing his arms, Jacob glared up at his friend. “Finished with your little tantrum?”

  John Paul was staring hard at Jacob. Meekly, he responded. “Yep.”

  With great effort, Jacob pulled himself to a standing position and wandered over to a folding table where a few water bottles, a vegetable tray and some bowls of chips, purple grapes and chocolate were set up for them. His back to John Paul, he yanked at a grape until it came free, then he turned and chewed on it, leaning against the table. “I’m going up to Canada.”

  “It’s fecking frigid in Canada. Must be important.” John Paul glanced sideways at his lead guitar player.

  “Trust me, okay?”

  After a moment, John Paul stuck out a hand. They shook. “I trust you. Just don’t leave me. You’ll kill me.”

  A shadow passed over Jacob’s face as John Paul stepped forward and sank a fist into a bowl full of salty rippled chips. Leaving was something Jacob did not want to consider. How did Annie (Jessie?) get under his skin so quickly and so deeply? Easy, he grumbled under his breath. She is exotic, talented, mysterious, pretty, aloof, vague, playful and sometimes even a little wild. Not to forget that she was also really Jessie Wheeler.

  He shook that thought off. How could Annie be Jessie Wheeler?

  John Paul laid a hand on his shoulder. “You getting a cold? Going up to Canada won’t help you get over that, my friend.”

  “Not sick,” Jacob mumbled. He walked over to his guitar case and unsnapped the brass fasteners. In his opinion, there was no better cure for what-ails-ya than music.

  He lifted the guitar out of its cozy nest and started to tune. John Paul munched on chips at the snack table and watched him. Whatever was going on, it was serious. Jacob had always been a reserved and remote kind of guy, but the crap from that last day in Scotland seemingly sent him careening over some invisible ledge. JP grabbed his own guitar and retrieved his chair. He tuned up with Jacob and they disappeared into the music until it was time to go face the masses. John Paul had been Jacob’s musical sidekick for a few years now. They were the best of friends, albeit the kind with their own unwritten rules about friendship. One of those rules was if I don’t want to talk, don’t force the issue. Another was be trustworthy.

  John Paul followed Jacob’s hunched shoulders out of the small room and down the short hallway towards the stage in the Austin club. They’d be playing for about three hundred people that night, a clientele that piled into the club to see the headline band, which was not himself and Jacob. This was the last of two weeks of these types of gigs - it was a hard slog, trying to make names for themselves in the fickle business of entertainment. In this raunchy club it was a very real possibility they could be pelted with flying beer bottles or glasses as they tried to warm up the crowd for the bigger band. For certain, they would face some catcalling and hecklers.

  As JP wondered just how much longer he was truly willing to help Jacob follow his dream, he glanced up and noticed that his friend’s shoulders were drooping. Ah. Maybe that’s all it is – Jacob is getting tired of this game, too. There comes a point when you oughtta just stop trying.

  Turning the corner and stepping up five metal risers to get to the stage, Jacob walked under a blinding yellow light. Silhouetted there, he paused as he waited for the stage manager to give him his cue. He had his guitar slung over his shoulder so that it hung down his back, and black cowboy boots peeked out from beneath his threadbare jeans. A yellow plaid button down shirt caught the light and held it hostage. Jacob stood poised, tense, with most of his weight on one leg and the other bent. He grasped the metal rail with clenched fingers, barely able to make out the invisible faces in the crowd. But he knew there were many, sitting there in expectation guzzling their Budweiser Limes and rum and Cokes. He thought about Annie / Jessie, and wondered how she dealt with the stress before playing the biggest gigs the world had to offer. And then he realized the most important fact of all concerning this recent bullshit he was dealt - the comprehension that the girl he loved, regardless of the fact she was not who he originally believed her to be, was not in attendance tonight.

  It didn’t matter how many people were out there in the audience when he played – the only person who really counted was the one you cared about the most.

  Looking out at those nameless voiceless faces, Jacob wished with everything he had in him for Annie to be somewhere in the crowd. He felt an overpowering sense of loneliness just then and found himself wishing he were anywhere but in the dark confines of the bleak nameless clubs of the last two weeks. That he was back in Edinburgh at their cozy intimate pub with his girl ten feet away listening to him with an intelligence and a respect and a deep enduring love for music he knew most people in tonight’s crowd would never have, would never experience in their lifetimes. He could see her there now, perched on the tattered old plum velvet cushion with her calloused fingers wrapped around a frothy mug of Guinness, gazing at him with adoring, glistening eyes brimming with love and affection and admiration for the guts he had in baring his soul so publicly.

  Jacob had a decision to make. If he went to Vancouver and gave Annie up to the people who loved and missed the girl they knew as Jessie Wheeler, he knew he had a good chance of losing her forever. If he kept her to himself, well, he would play that little pub night after night come hell or high water, giving up any chance of a larger career if it meant she would be there for him. Hell, if she was his only audience for the rest of Jacob’s life, then maybe that was enough for him. At this point he had been away from her for two weeks – from him there were no calls, texts, Facebook messages or emails. But Jacob missed her. He could not imagine his life without the lavender haired girl cross-legged on the floor picking out chords and sharing his music with him, watching him play and sing and be who he felt he was meant to be, a singer songwriter.

  How could he give her up? How could he let her go? Shouldn’t she be baring her soul on stages much larger than the ones Jacob could even imagine? How could he deny her the opportunity to feel an audience’s warmth and love again? Had anyone ever catcalled Jessie Wheeler? Not likely. She was sublime.

  Easy. Because if he missed her this much, imagine what the Keatings were going through. And her friends. What was he, compared to the community of people who loved Jessie Wheeler in Vancouver? What was he compared to a worldwide kinship of Jessie Wheeler fans? The truth was, he felt maybe he was nothing except a safe place to hide. He was her sanctuary. He was a tiny seed buried deeply in the earth for the crows to pick and scavenge. He was nothing.

  The announcer heartily welcomed Jacob Ryan to
the stage. The stage manager gave a little wave and then Jacob stepped out of the light and into the darkness. He paused there as a different soft light found him - a spotlight, manned by a friendly cool blonde bearded guy with rounded glasses he met earlier during the sound check, who arrived at the club on a Harley, and who was known by the club staff as Spot Bob - and his fate was sealed. The catcalls and the rude comments were hurled fast and furious but Jacob stood calmly, his feet a shoulder’s width apart, the guitar still slung over his back. John Paul eyed him warily as he adjusted his own mic, and then the back line band that would be playing with them – drums, bass and keys – eyed JP, wondering what the hell the holdup was as they stared at Jacob’s back.

  Jacob was transported to his own safe place just then, a place he sometimes forgot about until he was in the moment again, a place that consisted of just him and his music. He flipped the guitar around to his front and didn’t even bother to glance at John Paul before he played the first chord, so great was the history and trust between the two boys of shared gigs and tunes. Nothing bothered him then, and he forced himself to ponder that if he had to, if he absolutely had to, he could do without Annie – or Jessie – in his life. Because he had something many people didn’t – an outlet for his pain, a wall to shield the hurts, his own safe place to hide. And he knew she had that too.

  It was called music, and for this night it was his and his alone, regardless of how many people were out there staring death rays at him, or on this stage helping him find the perfect sound to elevate his poignant lyrics.

  As he disappeared into the only place in the world where he felt truly protected, without the expressive eyes of his girl urging him on towards greatness, trusting him, Jacob closed his baby blues and let the music come. His world was safe now, and he could go on eternally this way, if only moments like these could last forever.