Josh was the first to speak. Through slits of misty eyes he glared at Stephen and then Charles. He raised his arms, questioning. “Why?” he cried. “Why did you have to drag her back here and open up the door to her personal hell? You should have just left well enough alone.”
Backing out of the room, he thrust the ring on its leather string into Stephen’s hand. “I don’t want it,” he seethed. Jesus, he thought, imagine Michelle’s reaction if I came home with that.
Josh whispered to Deirdre before turning and leaving the home.
“I’m sorry, Dee. I’m truly sorry.”
And then he was gone.
***
Chapter Twenty-Two
The next few days were rough. Charles, Dee, Stephen and Charlie all took turns sitting with Jessie as she slept. She woke off and on for pee breaks but was largely unresponsive, so at Deirdre’s insistence Charles called a physician in to see her. The kindly grey-haired man, a gentleman they knew and trusted for his discretion, suggested they just let her sleep for a few days.
“She’ll come around,” he said confidently. “Her mind and body just need some time to recalibrate.” He patted Charles on the shoulder on his way out. “She’s a fighter, that one.”
Meanwhile, the days were excruciatingly long. All who heard Jessie’s story were agonized by the trauma she experienced years ago, trauma which they had to newly process. Josh kept his distance and didn’t return phone calls, emails or texts. Silence reigned in the Keating household as Dee and Charles drank endless cups of tea provided affectionately by Carlotta.
When Jessie finally opened her eyes, ready to face a harsh world once again, she spied Charlie sitting in a wingback chair by her bed, worrying, his feet on the edge of the bed and his thumb and forefinger prying at his top lip.
“Hey,” she mumbled from a comfy position on her stomach. “Get your stinky feet off my bed.”
Relieved, Charlie removed his feet one at a time, slowly, holding them in front of her nose first. Then he scrunched down and leaned forward, laying his head on crooked elbows on the mattress and peering closely at her, nose to nose. “Well, if it isn’t Sleeping Beauty. Welcome back, Princess.”
“Ahhh,” was her reply. “Don’t call me that.” Princess. That’s what Deuce calls me.
Slowly, she used her arms to leverage herself over on her back and then up to a sitting position. Charlie helped adjust her pillows until she swatted him away.
“I’m hungry,” she said.
“Glad to hear it.”
Then quietly, looking down as she twisted a bed sheet around and around a forefinger, “Guess I was an ass, eh? Gave everyone a little bit of a shock.”
Charlie couldn’t speak. He leaned forward and took Jessie’s hand, fighting with his heart so it wouldn’t get the better of him. She heard him snuffle, and so Jessie leaned down and kissed him on the top of his head. She stayed there, an arm wrapped around his head and shoulders, until he recovered and met her eyes.
“That was some pretty big shit to keep to yourself all these years, Jess.” He reached out a finger and let it trail down her cheek. “I’m the ass for not trying to get to know you better. We were engaged, for God’s sake.” He almost broke down again but Jessie patted the spot beside her on the bed as he collected himself, and then he eased himself down next to her.
“It is what it is,” she said, a tinge of sorrow in her voice. “How is Dee?”
“Functional. Barely. But Jess – everyone understands.”
“Understands what? Why I am such a psycho bitch?”
He slipped an arm around her shoulders. “The hair. They understand the purple hair now.” He smiled and kissed her cheek. “I love you, kiddo.”
“I know. Thanks, Charlie.” She grinned up at him. It actually did feel better to let her past out into the world, where it could reconcile with the person she was trying to be. She felt lighter, as if she could breathe a little easier. “I’ve actually missed you.”
They sat together for a little while, chatting softly about activities Charlie had been up to, about Jane, and about life in general. After a while Steve arrived and stuck his concerned nose in the door. He was visibly relieved to see Jessie awake and smiling with Charlie. With a few short bounds, Steve jumped on the bed and sat on the other side of Jessie. Dee found the three together when she heard raucous laughter coming from Jessie’s west side room. She and Carlotta arrived at the door at the same time. Pushing it open, they stood back with their arms crossed at the sight of Jessie sitting up in bed sandwiched by her good friends, laughing at some silly story Steve was relating.
Before the boys left her to shower, because Steve had not minced words in telling her she stank, Jessie pulled him aside, a serious note back in her voice.
“Is Josh okay?”
“I went out to his house to see him yesterday,” Steve said. “He’s hanging on. It’s hard, Jess.”
She nodded in understanding. Psychologically it must be killing Josh that she didn’t share this with him before - the absolute truth of why she had to let him go. The weight he carried. Everything.
“He’ll be okay, Jess. He just needs some time to process all this.”
She fiddled with a loose strand of hair before responding. “I hope so,” she said.
After showering Jessie made her way downstairs. She waltzed over to Dee, who was entertaining the boys just inside the large kitchen. To Dee’s surprise Jessie settled herself under one of her manager’s arms, wrapping both arms around her waist.
“I’m so sorry, Dee,” she whispered. “For everything.”
Dee just smiled - speechless, overcome - and hugged her back. Carlotta threw some chorizo and onion into a pan and started sizzling up an omelet for Jessie just as the doorbell rang.
“Got it,” hollered Charlie good-naturedly as he started for the door.
Kayla breezed in, a tray of lattes from Rebel on a Mountain Coffee in her hand.
A profound sense of relief washed over Jessie as she realized that now, with her tender secrets set free, this place was home. Amongst friends and family, she could begin to relax and rebuild old relationships. It was sweet to see Kayla - a direct connection to Josh - who was as bouncy and funny as ever.
“Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Kayla preened, posing like a carhop with one hand on her hip and the tray of coffees held high in the other. “Mind telling me what shade of purple that is?” She cocked her head. “I’ve been thinking I’m in need of a change.”
She was rewarded with a small smile from her old boss.
“Come sit,” Jessie said, patting the stool next to her. “I want to hear all about Priya. I hear she’s been working my old dance troupe to the bone lately.”
“You’re her favorite,” Kayla replied, frowning. “She treats us like crap when we’re not rehearsing for your shows.” She handed the coffees to Stephen and wrapped her old friend in a warm embrace.
“Well then,” Jessie said, humbly feeling the love. “We ought to change that. I hear there’s a Jessie Wheeler concert coming up. Right Dee? There are about ten thousand tickets out there that we need to honor.”
Yup. Things were looking up. With the exception of Deuce McCall’s unknown whereabouts and intentions, and the absence of Josh at the kitchen island, Jessie was feeling marginally more comfortable with life back in Vancouver. She pushed Jacob aside for the moment, as if he were a dream – as if there wasn’t room for both men in her life, and Josh occupied the most space so he got top priority.
But as the week marched inexorably on, it was clear Josh had no intention of making any room in his life for Jessie. His space in her mind settled to a safe place where she could think of him without feeling the need to keel over.
And then there was room for – and a desperate need for the companionship of - Jacob.
***
Chapter Twenty-Three
A week after Jessie’s return home, Charles closed the door to his downstairs office and trudged weari
ly up the stairs towards a welcoming night’s sleep. He found Dee in the ensuite bath brushing her teeth. Greeting him, she leaned against the white doorframe in a creamy silk negligee and matching robe, foaming gracefully in a way only Deirdre Keating could manage with such a mundane job.
Watching her husband gently ease himself onto the edge of the bed and start to remove his shoes and socks, she noted he seemed more tired than usual. Dee slipped back into the washroom and spit out the toothpaste, then went back to her observation post, nipping at the corners of her lips with a fluffy white hand towel.
“Honey,” she said contemplatively, “you’re working long hours these days.”
“Matt and I had a meeting,” he replied. “With Jessie home…” his voice trailed off. A meeting with his head of security required no explanation. They were all worried.
Dee wandered back into the washroom and hung up the hand towel. She let her hands rest on it for a second, thoughtfully, before rejoining her husband in the bedroom. Walking around the foot of the bed, she pulled down the covers on her side and flipped on the nightlight.
“Charles, you and Matt are doing everything you can. Jessie’s safe here.”
Charles turned towards Dee as he yanked his white dress shirt out from the waistband of his pants and started to undo the buttons. “She’s getting cabin fever,” he said. “It’s time, Dee. We need to go public. We need to get that concert organized. A welcome back kind of thing.”
Horrified, Dee couldn’t disguise her displeasure. “Charles! It’s been a week! Give her some time.”
“She asked Matt to take her downtown tomorrow – to East Hastings. She’ll be recognized, Dee. Word is going to get out there whether we like it or not. And as far as the concert goes, we may as well move on that now. It’ll be at least a few months before we can pull it together and that in itself will be a long few months if every day has to be like these last ones, with Jessie looking over her shoulder afraid of her own shadow all day long.”
Tenderly, Dee leaned over to help her husband slide his arms out of his sleeves. Charles retained a solid physique for a man in his sixties, and she ran her fingers over his shoulder blades in admiration. She was a lucky woman. Besides the inability to have children, which was a curse in itself and a heavy cross to bear, she and Charles enjoyed a lengthy secure and stable marriage.
“Where is she going tomorrow? To the shelter?” She kept her eyes downcast. Dee was well aware that Arnold Sylvester lived on the Downtown Eastside, and she wasn’t fond of his role in Jessie’s disappearance and subsequent ability to keep a massive secret. She felt edgy just thinking about him.
“Yes, she wants to drop in to see Mary Helen. Jessie has agreed to let Matt drive her and accompany her into the building.” Glancing over at his wife, he added,“ She’s being co-operative, Dee. That’s the best we can hope for at this time.”
Grimacing, Dee’s shoulders sank. “If by being co-operative you mean she slinks around with purple hair and smokes marijuana gotten from God knows where…” She changed tack a little. “Did you not check her bags before flying out of Scotland?”
He winced. Like hell they were going to check her bags. Getting Jessie on the plane was a miracle in itself, as far as Charles was concerned. She didn’t need further prods pushing her away from them.
Dee threw up her arms and continued. “Let me add - and can barely manage a conversation? Then okay, I’ll agree with you.”
“Dee…” Charles took his wife’s hand and ran his thumb over her manicured fingers. She looked down and noticed that one nail was cracked – absently she thought it matched her soul these days. Maybe she would keep it as a reminder. Would their little makeshift family ever feel whole again? Jessie seemed to be a hybrid of Annie Hayden and Jessie Wheeler. Dee wasn’t sure if the girl was even trying to find the old Jessie again. Maybe she was Annie for a bit too long and that personality and character got trapped. As if she method acted her way through a film and then the record got stuck. Dee wanted the old Jessie back. Period.
“Charles, she hasn’t played a note since she got back. She sits on that stool in the studio or naps on the couch, but she won’t play. How are we supposed to hold a concert?”
“You know what I think, Deirdre?”
“Hmmm?”
“I think she’s lonely. Stephen and Charlie are busy, plus they have their ladies to keep them company. I think she needs some companionship.”
“What are you saying, Charles?”
He hesitated. “I’m wondering about bringing Jacob over.”
“We would be overstepping our boundaries. They need to figure their relationship out on their own.”
“Dee. It would be tough to do that from opposite sides of the world. It’s killing me, watching her struggle with this transition. We practically forced her to come home…”
Sharply, Dee glanced up at him. Ouch. That hurt. She did not want to be reminded that it wasn’t necessarily Jessie’s choice to come back to them.
“Fine,” she said brusquely, climbing under the covers and grabbing a book from the nightstand. “But I suggest you ask her first.”
Silence. She looked up. Charles was chagrined, embarrassed.
“Charles! You didn’t!”
“He’ll be here in the morning, Dee.” He shrugged his shoulders. “He called me today. He hasn’t heard from Jessie since her first day home, before…well before she had that blow-up with Josh that scared us all to hell. She’s starting to shut people out again, Dee. At least with Jacob…at least with Jacob there’s a chance she’ll start to play music again. He’s good, Dee. I can use that as an excuse, that I want to test him out.”
“You’re interfering, Charles, and likely getting his hopes up. You’re messing with the universe.”
“I’m not messing with the universe! I’m just…giving it a nudge.”
Flipping open her book, F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, which Deirdre was into for the eleventh time in about as many years, she settled in to read.
“Charles Keating. It’s a good thing I love you because sometimes I certainly don’t understand you. You better hope Jessie is happy to see this Jacob fellow because, unquestionably, she is still mourning her relationship with Josh. You could very well be setting her up for yet another fall. And I’m not certain just how many more of those our girl can take.”
She nudged a pair of reading glasses onto her nose, and peered at her husband over the top rim.
“God help you Charles, you are mixing yourself up in more than you know. Has it not occurred to you that if this Deuce McCall psycho finds out about Jacob that he may choose to target him as well? So now all of a sudden there’s one more person for Jessie to worry about.”
“Deirdre,” Charles exhaled slowly. “Matt is doing what he can to provide heightened security for all of us. He’s already working on moving staff around to ensure Jacob is covered as well.”
“Matt’s not God, Charles! You – and me – are not God either! Only God can protect Jessie and the people she loves. Have you not heard her? Deuce McCall’s reach is long, and it’s unforgivable! The man – or monster – acts without prejudice, concern or remorse for his actions.”
Wrenching the glasses from her nose, Dee pressed a palm to her forehead. Charles inched across the bed towards her.
“I know,” he said softly. “Dee, this is hard on all of us. Let’s get this concert going and face this man head on. If Jessie’s instincts are right, he won’t be long in showing up. Whatever the universe is going to bring us, let’s just be strong and get it over with. Leaving McCall to his own devices is like stripping us of power. We will be as prepared as we can be, we will fight, and we will be as mighty as we can. We will not let him win. And this thing will end.”
“What if it ends badly?” Dee was sore afraid. She snuggled into her husband’s warm, steady embrace. It would not do to lose her man, or any of Jessie’s friends.
“It might. Dee, you know that it might.” He turned
her face towards him and was troubled to see the fear imprinted in the lines that stretched from the corners of her eyes. “But at least it will end.”
“That’s not good enough, Charles.”
“It has to be. We’ll do the best we can. But ultimately it’s out of our hands.”
“Pray with me, Charles?”
He nodded. They hadn’t prayed together since shortly after Jessie’s disappearance. Tenderly, Charles reached for Dee’s hand and searched her eyes with his own, asking her to be strong in the days and weeks to come, to face the unknown with determination and grace. Dee bowed her head and Charles followed slowly as Dee’s voice softened in the semi-darkness.
“Our Father, who art in Heaven…”
***
Jessie was bubbling over with enthusiasm when she climbed into Matt’s Audi the next morning. It was a dreary windy March day that hinted at sunshine, at least according to the patch of blue sky in the west that was bigger than a Scotsman’s britches. During her time in Edinburgh, Jessie picked up a few trustworthy old folk expressions. That particular one was a favorite and was in part responsible for her jubilant mood. Most of the last week was rainy and cool. Vancouverites needed sunshine, and Jessie was a prime example. Tired of staying indoors hiding, always a free spirit, she felt she was at least acceding to some of Charles and Dee’s demands by virtue of agreeing to Matt’s accompaniment. Armed with a toasted bagel and dressed in her Downtown Eastside wardrobe of grey hoodie, faded blue jeans, and her old yellow Converse Chucks with the smiley faces, Jessie didn’t wait for Matt to open the door of the car. She tugged open the passenger side front door and dropped down into the leather seat.
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