Turning back to Steve, she stared at him until he shifted uncomfortably, chuckling.
“What?” he asked. “Is my hair turning green? Oh wait – that would probably be okay with you. So it must be my – ouch!”
Jessie had punched him in the arm. “I was thinking about going green for St. Paddy’s Day but I changed my mind. And stop poking fun at me! Anyways I’ll have to dye it back before I go public or people will freak.” Especially my friends in Scotland, she thought vaguely. She didn’t necessarily want any of them to know who she really was, although she figured it would be just a matter of time before Katrine or Jacob talked. That would be enough to get the old hens buzzing in the pub.
“So this is going to be weird,” she said disparagingly. “Seeing Dee, I mean. And Charlie, mostly. Although I kind of want to meet this Jane chick and see if she’s good enough for him.”
“She’s settled him down, that’s for sure,” Steve said optimistically. “He learned his lesson the hard way.” Grinning at Jessie, he laid an arm over her shoulders and was pleased to see that for once she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned closer to her old friend and tucked herself in under his arm.
Jessie drew her knees up onto the seat and sat sideways, snuggling up to Steve. She crooked her arms and held them against her chest. He felt warm and smelled of days filled with horses and friendships and safety.
“It’s good to see you again, Steve,” she whispered. “I was missing you.”
“I know,” he said somberly.
Victoria arrived with the bagel and juice. She lifted a tray from its holder within the right arm of Jessie’s chair, and set down the food and drink. “Would you like some coffee too, Jessie? I have espresso if that’s your preference.”
“A cappuccino would rock,” Jessie replied, appreciative.
Looking over at Steve, Victoria asked him as well.
He held up two fingers. “A double Americano, Victoria. Thanks.” To Jessie he said, “I need some jet fuel of my own.”
She smiled finally, a sincere smile that lit up Steve’s insides. He had been worried – but no, she would be okay. Of that he was certain. They would all just need to be patient, to step back and give Jessie time to adjust.
Jessie burrowed closer and wrapped an arm around his belly. The juice and bagel would wait. “I need a smoke,” she muttered under her breath, as if she didn’t really want him to hear her.
“No comment,” Steve said.
“No judging allowed,” she retorted sharply. “I’ll have to quit anyways. Dee doesn’t approve either. I just started because…well, that summer with Deuce, it was like I was dead anyway. It just didn’t seem to matter.”
Squeezing her tight, Steve brought his other arm around and pulled Jessie close. “Listen to me, little girl,” he said, calling forth instant images of Jessie’s dad David, who always called her little one. As did Josh. A butterfly flitted within her heart. Josh. God, she would see him soon. Dear God.
Continuing, Steve talked softly. “We are not going to let Deuce McCall hurt you again. And he will not hurt Josh, or Charles and Dee, or anyone close to you, ever again. Do you hear me?” He rested a finger underneath her chin and turned her face up so he could see her eyes, which he noted were tired and teary.
“He can’t know about Jacob,” she murmured fearfully, as if saying the words were enough to conjure up a link between McCall and Jacob Ryan.
“He won’t,” Steve said. “When McCall shows his pretty face we’ll be able to keep an eye on him at all times. Matt’s promised us that. He won’t get near Jacob.”
“You guys and your promises. Don’t you know I would have come to you that summer if I thought you could keep those promises? I mean, I know all of you will do the best you can, but Steve – nobody can stop McCall.”
“Jessie, he’s only human, remember that.”
“He’s a fecking monster. A monster who is in love with me, or some imagined version of me. Love can mess with people pretty good, you know.”
He grinned and kissed her forehead. “Yeah. I know.”
“Ahhh,” she said, ducking her head. “Just for the record, I’m sorry for hurting you the way I did. Seems like I just continue to hurt people.”
“No, I should have known better, Jess. I think what happened – well, what we thought happened – with Josh, threw us all for a loop. And you weren’t talking…you pushed all of us aside.” He sighed heavily, remembering an awful time when nobody could get close enough to Jessie to help her. “That whole summer – it must have been hell for you. I’m so sorry you had to go through it – alone.”
The espresso arrived then, and Jessie grabbed a second to compose her thoughts and take a sip of orange juice so Victoria wouldn’t feel her efforts weren’t valued.
“Yeah. Well.” In other words, I don’t want to talk about it. She took a bite of her bagel, which was fresh and surprisingly soothing to her anxious body. She peeked over at Charles. He was snoring lightly, and she prayed fervently he was having good dreams.
Steve pressed on, determined. “Jessie. You have to promise us you won’t do that again. The whole lone ranger thing. Going rogue. You’re not the fucking lone ranger. Okay? Let us help you.”
She twisted further around in the expansive seat and wrapped weary arms around her knees so she was facing him. His face was set, his eyes cool and severe. Jessie knew Steve wanted to help, as they all did, but God - the thought of something dire happening to another one of those people she loved so desperately, as it had to Sandy, Rachel, Terri…it was too much to ponder.
“You don’t know what you’re getting into, Steve,” she said earnestly. At the very least, she could finally be honest. “All of you.”
“Do you think he will show up? For sure? I mean, maybe he found someone else by now.” He instantly regretted saying that. Beside him, Jessie shuddered.
“God, I hope he hasn’t found anyone else,” she groaned. “And yes, I am one hundred per cent certain he will show up. I don’t know when, but I think I know how to lure him in. He can’t stand to see me perform and then not be with me. So all I think we need to do is set up a concert, and I bet within a week he’ll contact me.”
She paused to take a thoughtful sip of her cappuccino, silently making a note to thank Victoria. Good cappuccinos were hard to come by, and this one was exceptional. Barista experience – now a necessary component of flight attendant training, she thought, grateful a snippet of humor was returning after the most recent drama.
“But,” she added to Steve, intensely, stitching her thoughts back together. “Let’s not do that just yet, okay? I need a little time to morph from Annie Hayden back to Jessie Wheeler. A month or so, at least.”
“Okay,” Steve said, ruffling her hair. “Kind of light purply, huh? It sort of matches your eyes. No wonder Jacob fell for you hook, line and sinker.”
The above-mentioned eyes closed at the mention of Jacob, and Jessie rested a defeated head against the back cushion of the big leather chair.
“Pretty serious, I take it,” Steve said solemnly.
“Didn’t expect it,” she responded, her eyes still closed. Then, because Steve was now her link to both Jacob and Josh, she thought it safe to talk about the men she loved. She peeked up at him, frowning. “You and Charlie didn’t stick because your names don’t start with J. It’s a special club.”
Laughing heartily, he retorted, “Thanks for that. Now I know.”
“I don’t know how things will go with Jacob. Because of the way I left things with Josh. Jacob knows this, he’s aware Josh will always be there somewhere in the background, hovering like some – like some bird or flower or tree, just in the background, waiting.”
Intrigued, Steve raised his eyebrows. “Waiting for what, Jessie?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Waiting for me to let him go, I guess.”
At her steely gaze, he frowned. “Oh. So that’s why you’re coming home? To let him go?”
“Maybe
. Yes. Him and Deuce the fuck McCall.” On saying McCall’s name she raised two fingers of each hand to suggest quotation marks. At the same time Jessie’s lips curved down in an exaggerated drawl. Then she added, “So I can get on with my life. Which would be nice if it involved Jacob. I kinda love him.”
“You said fuck.”
“No. I did not.”
“You did, you said fuck. We’re over North American soil now, so it makes sense.”
“Feck. Feck feck feck feck feck.”
“You have to talk North American now.”
“Em. Em em em em em.”
“Um. Um um um um um, Jess.”
“Em, feck you, Steve!”
They shared an enthusiastic laugh then, for old times’ sake and to lessen the tension of the days and weeks to come. Across the aisle Charles awoke to good-natured jests between Jessie and her old friend and sometime lover and so he believed, rather naively, the worst was over.
Soon they landed in Vancouver, and Jessie braced herself for some difficult reunions. As the sleek jet taxied to its private gate her heart leapt when she spotted Matt reclining against a dark metallic grey car, a new Audi, she guessed. Matt’s shoulders were back and his arms were folded across his chest, reflecting the tension inherent in the morning. Jessie was somewhat surprised and genuinely relieved Charles hadn’t canned him after her slip from Matt’s security detail. She liked the man. He didn’t put up with her bullshit and he was married to a nice wife. The couple had a young daughter. Plus he was a good and true friend to Charles, who was a man with few serious friendships.
Steve grasped Jessie’s trembling hand and held it until Victoria and the outdoor ground crew opened the door and unfolded and secured the jet’s stairs on terra firma. Then Jessie rousted herself physically and emotionally, and accepted her flea market bomber jacket from the kind business-like flight attendant.
As petrified as she was, she still had the good grace to thank Victoria for her service, and she shook Will’s hand and timidly congratulated him on a fine three-point landing. Then Jessie turned her body towards a sunny March Vancouver morning and bravely faced her past.
***
Chapter Twenty
A brisk gale greeted Jessie at the top of the ramp. Her hands jumped immediately to her flouncy skirt, which threatened to reveal more than she was prepared to share with the world as she took stock of her surroundings. They were in a secure area of the airport reserved for business executives and private jets. Beyond the asphalt was a metal fence with a gate that led north to the city. East beyond that was rolling farmland. Further east was Langley, where Drifters was shot. Jessie had no plans to drive out to the set – it would be mostly deconstructed by now anyway. Likely only the old cedar shingled barn remained along with her beloved sanctuary, the cottonwood tree, under which an incessant bubbling creek flowed over polished pebbles. Not much else would have endured, of that she was certain. Only memories, of friendships and a sincere love she had seemingly callously thwarted.
Like a repentant puppy that just leaked a yellow puddle onto a clean floor, Jessie wandered over to Matt, eyes downcast and fingers tightly clasped around the cuffs of her coat. She stopped in front of him, Steve and Charles close behind her, and forced herself to look up. Matt was still. Impeccably dressed as always, beneath his folded arms was a pristine white button down shirt open at the neck, a blue light wool blazer over top, and beneath those were denim jeans, rolled neatly at the ankle above brown leather lace-up boots. Crowning Matt’s casual west coast yuppie vibe was the usual perfectly gelled and spiked crests of hair. He was also wearing, dammit, sunglasses with dark polarized lenses so Jessie could not completely read his mood. But she knew him well enough to suspect, by his posture alone – rigid and unwelcoming – that he harbored certain resentments against her.
“Matt,” she mumbled, thrusting her knuckled-up hands deep in the jacket’s pockets and shifting her feet, toes crimping nervously up inside her own brown leather boots.
He afforded her one grace. Matt removed the sunglasses and peered down at the strangely attired girl in front of him.
Yup. He was pissed.
Jessie’s shoulders slumped. “Uh, yeah. You hate me. I deserve that.”
Then Matt broke protocol. He placed a big hand behind Jessie’s head and stared deep into the pearl eyes he remembered and had sorely missed. He was not able to protect her when she needed him most. His heart shattered again and again each time he recalled that terrible day at Rogers Arena, when he heeded the cry from inside Jessie’s dressing room. Seeing her so damaged…and then learning she had endured forced sex all that summer… and been brutally raped the night before they found her so badly beaten…well. Not much wonder she needed some time away, to hide, to…heal.
“Jessie,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She knew what he meant but still she stood there, pushing all the old horrible feelings back to that numb place deep inside. She looked away, and then removed her hands from her pockets, one at a time, and slowly wrapped them around his waist.
“Me too,” she whispered. “Me too, Matt.”
And so they were friends again, albeit they were friends with a shared history of doubt and untruths that hopefully now could be exorcised with the promise of a new start. Soon car doors were opened and Jessie was ushered in before some curious onlooker would realize Jessie Wheeler had returned.
Vancouver seemed unchanged. As Matt steered the Audi north over the 99, down Granville Street and then through Stanley Park and over the Lions Gate Bridge towards North Vancouver and a restless hyper Deirdre, Jessie noted the cherry blossoms were as beautiful as she remembered. They were in full bloom this time of year, lining the streets, their striking pink flowers melting some of the bitterness in her heart at leaving Jacob behind. She was now in the same city with Josh. Jacob and Katrine, who in the end turned out to be some of the most honest, sincere friends Jessie ever let into her life, were part of the healing that helped her grow enough strength to face a damaged past. They were now inextricably intertwined in the fabric of Jessie Wheeler.
Pulling into the lovely sloped, curved driveway of La Casa, Jessie exhaled. To Steve she said worriedly, “I look like shit. I look like Annie.”
He lifted her unsteady hand and brushed his lips against the back of her fingers. “Jessie,” he said with feeling. “Dee knows who you are. Stop worrying. Just let her hold you for a while. You can sort out the deeper feelings later.” Pulling her close, he kissed her cheek. “You need each other right now. Let her be there for you, and you be there for her.”
That’s right, she thought. This is a reciprocal relationship. All of these are. Yes, we have a long way to go, but I have to go the distance too. Still, she shivered. This was so emotionally taxing, these strange reunions.
Dee was inside the door shadowed by Carlotta, who was shifting her weight from foot to foot, excited the light would now be back at La Casa - in Charles and Dee’s eyes, and in the music studio at the back of the house. And in Jessie’s room with the soft and comforting window seat, a room often dusted but otherwise unoccupied over the last eighteen months.
Deirdre was crying before the door was opened. She couldn’t help herself. She watched Jessie hoist herself out of the car, and was reminded of the waif they rescued from the Downtown Eastside so many years ago. Warned about the lavender hair by Charles, she was still unprepared. This girl was an international superstar, an Academy award-winning actor. Yet here she was in a bedraggled old coat, and hair draped over her eyes as if she was afraid to see and be seen. Dee watched surreptitiously as Jessie looked up at the house and swallowed, obviously scared of what coming home would mean. Then she was following Matt - who had some of her bags in his hand, including the stickered old guitar case - into the house. And then she was inside, standing apprehensively in the familiar grand foyer of the Keating home.
And then she was facing Dee.
Her manager fondly took Jessie�
�s face in her hands, one soft palm on each pale cheek. “Let me look at you,” she said, giving up the battle with the wet tears that just kept coming one after the other like falling leaves in autumn, gently drifting downwards.
Jessie acquiesced. She stood stock-still. It ached too much to let herself feel. She had nothing to say that would help or that would solve an intentional hurt this big.
“Okay,” Dee murmured, fingering the unruly hair. “Okay.” And then she hugged Jessie and didn’t let go until Carlotta couldn’t stand it anymore and threw her arms around the two of them. Then there were tears of joy, although only from the older women. Jessie was trying not to go numb but she couldn’t help herself. Her bucket was cracked and the water was leaking out. She needed some space to get to know herself again.
Carlotta put some coffee on and they all sat around the kitchen island and tentatively spoke of life in the neighborhood, in Vancouver, in the shelters Deirdre faithfully maintained during Jessie’s absence. Jessie mostly listened, head down and fingers wrapped around the warm mug in her usual nervous way.
After a bit, Steve stood. Jessie looked up, panicked. They could all read the fearful expression on her face, and Carlotta turned away. Dee was saddened, but Charles reached across the island and took his wife’s hand. They all knew it would take Jessie some time to adjust.
Taking Jessie by the arm before wrapping his arms around her neck, Steve whispered in her ear. “You’re fine, little girl. Give yourself some time.”
“Come back soon,” she said, trying to sound stronger than she felt. “Bring Sophie. If she’ll speak to me.”
He backed away and peered into her eyes, then laid a hand on her cheek. “She will. We’ll come back tonight, okay?”
“Come for supper,” Dee threw in, a little too brightly. “And do bring Sophie.” She glanced over at Carlotta. “Six?”
“Yes,” Carlotta said. “We are having chicken and broccoli crepes with Caesar salad. Chocolate cheesecake for dessert.”
No Greater Love Page 20