Therefore, there was a lot of interest in Jessie today. The public was curious. But they would have to wait. Susanne escorted Jessie into ROAM as a few paparazzi tailing the well-known car grabbed some shots from their telephoto lenses. They did not dare overstep their bounds or they knew they would be blacklisted from chats and photo ops with Jessie. But she surprised everyone. On the way out of the cafe she waved feebly to some of the photographers and took the time to answer a few questions.
“Jessie! How are you? Are you okay? Were you hurt?”
“I’m okay,” she called back to them. “Thanks for checking up on me.”
“What’s the latest on Josh?”
Quiet for a moment, she looked up at Susanne for strength. The blonde woman opened the car door to give Jessie the option of hopping in. Somehow Jessie found the words, although she wiped her sleeve across her mouth and yanked the sweater cuffs further over her fingers before she responded.
“He’s hanging on. That’s all I know.”
“What happened, Jessie? Who was the man who was killed?”
Again, a pause. Jessie started to slide into the car but then she paused and faced the photographers.
“He was just a guy who misunderstood love.” That was it – Susanne’s respect for Jessie was sealed in stone. So was the respect of every paparazzo present.
Jessie tried to smile and wave at the small group, but her expression was strained, and their lenses caught it. She was on the front page of many International newspapers the next day, with the headlines and stories quoting her final remarks, “Josh needs prayers, okay? Please tell everyone to pray for Josh.”
She slipped inside the Mustang, shrank down into her seat, and put her head down for the drive to the North Van RCMP station. She accomplished more for Josh through her brief effort to appease the media than did Dee’s press release. Throughout the world vigils and prayer lines were set up for Josh, and when Jessie found out, she was tremendously humbled and once again relieved to be reminded that her music meant something to people. That whether or not she knew her fans personally, they cared about her, and so they would care about Josh too, if she asked them too, even if they thought he had once put her in the hospital. She made a mental note to someday present the truth to the world now that Deuce was gone. But now – she had to see Jacob.
They found him seated in a room similar to the one Josh was detained in at the Metro Police Station less than two years earlier. A metal table and a few chairs were the only furniture in the bland semi-dark space, and Jacob was alone. Outside the small room, in the brightly lit hallway, Charles and Matt greeted Susanne and Jessie. The men were both anxious to grasp Jessie and hold her tightly after the harrowing events of the night before. She allowed them brief hugs but mostly she just wanted to see Jacob. He was the one who squeezed the trigger, not once but twice, and she had not been in contact with him since. He must be going through his own personal hell, she thought, studying him through the one-way window.
Jacob was staring at his fingers, which were entwined on the table before him. He was twiddling his thumbs and his lips were moving. Deciding he was either praying or writing songs to pass the time, Jessie’s heart clenched. She knew in her heart she loved Josh desperately for reasons only the two of them would ever really understand, but here before her was another man who had captured her heart, who was loyal and who almost without question accepted second standing to a lone engagement ring and a girl’s futile hope.
As if he could sense her there, Jacob looked up at the window, and Jessie’s lips parted in a mixture of hope and despair. She knew she more or less abandoned him the night before, for Josh and the agony of his suffering, but she hoped Jacob would understand. Yet she also knew that she had been asking a great deal from Jacob all along, far too much, in fact. That she had been carrying him in her wake for months now, unfairly, with nothing more than a sketchy hope.
His eyes were a deeper blue than hers, and now they stared through the window with resignation and defeat. Why? Well. Jessie thought she knew why. But parting was never easy, and now was not the time. Right now they just needed to support each other.
She pushed open the heavy door, watched closely by Susanne and Charles as Matt waited for an approaching detective, an older gray-haired man carrying the papers that would release Jacob, whose long term fate was not yet decided. Hopefully with Charles’ powerful attorneys on board, Jacob would not be charged with possession of a weapon, since self-defense was considered his motive. Nor would Jessie, although Jessie figured Matt was likely prepared for the severe half-hearted reprimand he knew was coming once Charles found out where Jacob learned to shoot and who supplied the gun. Jacob shot Deuce not in his own defense, but in the defense of someone whose life was in imminent danger. It was hoped charges would not be laid.
Jessie dropped into the bent metal chair opposite Jacob and laid a still shaking hand over his. Forlorn and tired, he peeked up at her through eyelashes too long for a guy – he appeared too sensitive and fragile to have killed a man. Dark circles exacerbated by poor lighting rimmed his eyes, and he needed a shave. The very essence of his curls seemed tired, as if they were weighted down by some unseen horror that surrounded his dejected body.
Shoulders slumped, Jacob waited for Jessie to speak first. He knew there was a microphone in the room and a speaker outside in the hallway. Everyone present would be witness to his confession. Charles Keating would hear. It could all end here – today. The dreams, the music, the roller coaster ride of celebrity that, for him, was just beginning. Jessie? That was already over, and he knew it.
“Jacob.” Her eyes teared. How do you thank a dear friend for probably saving your life? For ending a more than a decade long reign of terror? For…saving the man you love?
She didn’t get any further. She couldn’t. Something in Jacob’s eyes…he pulled his hands away from her and put them on his lap, stared down at them.
“Jessie,” he started, “I had a shot.” His eyes were tearing now too. No surprise, he had killed a man last night. For her.
“I know,” she said, trying to read his strained expression, squinting to see his eyes more clearly in the faded light.
He was shaking his head. “Not what you think,” Jacob was muttering, and then even Matt and the detective were watching him from the hallway, listening attentively.
“It was clear, the shot,” Jacob was saying. “I had him in the gun’s sight. Clearly.”
“Yes, Jacob, you did it. All that practice, with Matt – it was worth it, Jacob. You did the right thing.” Her eyes were tragic too, as if she somehow sensed what was coming next.
“Not McCall,” Jacob said then, shaking his head from side to side as if he too, didn’t believe it. The blue eyes were intense - Jacob was intense, Jessie reminded herself. He had a way of saturating all of the color around him, in everything he did – music, making love, the Celtic cross tattoo, even his presence in a room deepened the colors, the emotional intensity, the angst. Nothing about Jacob was banal or understated, not when you peered into the never-ending abyss inside those eyes.
But then she got it, and what he was saying hit her square on like that ubiquitous Prince Edward Island north shore wave, salty and sudden, knocking the feet out from under her, dragging her out to sea. Jessie leapt up, and the metal chair crashed behind her to the floor with a rattle that shook the bejesus out of Jacob, jumpy as he was on this strange day.
“Josh,” he said simply, a hardness now evident in the pools of blue searching Jessie’s face. He shrugged his shoulders as if he were suddenly speaking of the choice to order Chinese instead of Thai for supper. “I had a shot at Josh.”
Jessie’s mouth settled into a firm line as everyone behind her froze and were witness to the final disintegration of a trust and a love that had been Jessie’s lifeline for a little while. She stood above Jacob and wondered who he was, but then she knew – he, like Deuce, was a man in love.
“I thought you were using me,” she
said. “Not all the time, but part of it. Over here, at least – in Vancouver. So you could get to Charles. Live the dream.” She said this last bit as if she had nothing but disdain for the dream, which she figured Jacob thought was incorruptible, but which she knew in her heart had the power to corrupt everything good and sweet in its path.
“Jessie,” Jacob mumbled, almost incoherent. “You are the dream. You and your music. What will it take for you to believe that?” He leaned on his forearms and leveraged himself to a standing position behind the table, facing her. “You loved him for so long. It was easy for me to believe from Scotland that I had a chance. But not here. I see how he still looks at you. The same way you looked at the damn ring around your neck. Like you’ve never looked at me. You looked at a damn ring like you cared about it more than me.”
“You didn’t, Jacob. You didn’t pull the trigger on Josh.” She was whispering. What he might have done - what Jacob thought about doing, was more than she could bear to hear, today.
He struggled to make her understand. “I just wanted you to love me, Jessie. That’s all. For real.”
She felt like it was Deuce saying that, from the dead. I just wanted you to love me, Jessie. So everyone can see that I am not a failure, after all. Suddenly Jessie could take no more. Now Jacob, too, was clinging to her for something he would have to figure out on his own. And he, like Deuce, almost destroyed someone she loved in order to secure his foundation on this planet. But foundations were insincere, the earth shifted beneath people’s feet all the time. And so, by thoughts that crossed the hazy line between light and dark, and good and evil, Jacob had irrevocably shifted his own terrain.
Jacob held his own when Jessie turned on her heel and made a quick exit from the room, brushing past Charles and Matt, Susanne behind her running to keep up. His eyes were dry, then, because he could no longer find any wetness inside him. Jacob was all dried up in there, around his kidneys and the spleen he still carried, and would, forever, like a rotten piece of fruit. He was a wrinkled old prune at twenty-six, soon to be twenty-seven. His birthday was approaching, on June twenty-third. He would fly back to Scotland, where John Paul and Katrine went two days ago, and he would join them in the pub. He would get drunk and try to forget about Jessie Wheeler. Or Annie Hayden. Or maybe – both.
Jacob Ryan would play music. He had nothing else left.
***
Moseying over to the foot of Josh’s hospital bed, Steve studied his old co-star’s sleeping form. Michelle had finally vacated the room for the evening to meet up with friends - she would be back in the morning. Steve was relieved – she seemed to be guarding the space to ensure Jessie didn’t reappear. Kayla had gone home with Zach and Hilary’s kids in tow; Paul, along with another lawyer friend of his, was consulting with Charles and Matt at the police station. Zach was at the cafeteria feeding Hilary and Sophie; and, on the promise of updates from Steve, Giselle finally managed to encourage Jonathon to go home and rest.
Now, alone, Steve spoke quietly to his friend.
“Josh, I know you can hear me, you stubborn old bastard. Now listen up. Jessie was here today and she has given me permission to give you something that belongs to both of you.”
He held up the Tiffany ring. It caught the light and flashed brilliantly, drawing a small smile from Steve who took the cherished light as a sign of good things to come. Even though Josh’s condition was still precarious, Steve refused to believe they would lose him. Years ago when Sandy died it was because he had no chance of survival – zero. The kid was stabbed six times. Josh was a survivor – he beat the Black Death, right? Why? Oh yes. Because Jessie believed in him when others didn’t. And because he was a fighter.
Lowering the ring in his right hand, Steve frowned. He couldn’t leave it here where Michelle might see it or where it could be stolen. But he felt Josh needed to feel something tangible, something that might bring him back to them, if only for a little while. Stepping around to the left side of the bed, Steve wrapped the leather string around his friend’s thumb and fingers, securing it briefly, the ring in the center of Josh’s palm. He folded Josh’s fingers around it, and then told Josh in no uncertain terms, “You are loved, Josh Sawyer. By all of us. Let this ring be a symbol of that. I’m going to take it to your place later and hide it somewhere for you, and then I fully expect you to give it back to Jessie someday. But for now, just hang onto it, okay?”
He settled back into a comfortable chair and swung one leg over the armrest. He could see the ring glinting in the light and was not at all surprised when, of their own accord, Josh’s fingers grasped it. Steve chuckled, then leaned back and closed his eyes, his arms folded in front of him.
“Bastard,” he said. “What gives you the right to be the only one getting any sleep? You think being kidnapped and stabbed makes you special?”
When Zach, Hilary and Sophie dropped in after their quick meal, they found Stephen sound asleep with a peaceful grin on his face. Josh was resting comfortably, the engagement ring he gave Jessie so long ago tangled in his fingers. Zach pulled Hilary close and held her for a long while. They did not take love, family, or friends for granted. Every damn second was precious. They knew to cherish their loved ones, as well as each other; to heal old wounds and forget ancient grievances.
When Josh opened his eyes for the first time after the surgery he felt blessed. In front of him, at the end of the hospital bed, stood two people he loved dearly. Creating an odd tableau in the fading light, they were reminders of true love’s simple beauty. On Josh’s side he saw Sophie climb gently onto Steve’s lap and wrap her arms around his neck.
In Josh’s hand he spied the Tiffany ring. Weakly, Josh lifted it and peered closely, trying to focus through the haze of meds. He wondered where Jessie was, and why she wasn’t there with him. Confused, he wrinkled his eyebrows. From the chair he heard a voice. Steve.
“She was here,” Steve said. “Jessie.”
Startled, Zach and Hil turned first to Steve and then towards Josh, their relief profound when they saw his open eyes.
“Where…” Cloudy images were crowding Josh’s mind - the woods, the dirt road, revolting clumps of mouse crap, Jessie with one pajama leg stuck in the top of her boot, the other dragging on the ground. Jessie.
“Sleep, Josh. It’s over now. You can rest. Jessie will be back. If you want her to come back, I mean.”
Josh held his fist in front of his face. He opened his hand so the ring dangled its beauty and promise in front of him. He wanted to see the girl he’d once given it to, but the meds were too strong and he was so damn tired. He couldn’t fight the sleepy fog that overtook him then, and so he closed his eyes and let sleep come. But in his mind as he floated off were Jessie’s gentle imploring eyes, along with the words of that song and the image of her in a fancy dress crouching down in front of him that day in Charlie’s garbage. There is always hope, Josh.
And so, surrounded by people he loved, who loved him back, Josh drifted off to a land of dreams and hope, and believed in Jessie once again.
***
Chapter Thirty-Four
It was late afternoon when Susanne steered the Mustang up the curved driveway of La Casa, shifted into first gear, and pulled on the emergency brake.
After giving her official statement to the North Vancouver RCMP, Jessie had asked Susanne to take her driving for the day. While Susanne drove, Jessie alternately smoked and slept. She even indulged in a little weed, needing all the help she could muster in order to mellow out and just get through the awful day. Steve texted now and again, and it wasn’t until she got the text saying Josh had woken and doctors were encouraged that Jessie finally gave Susanne the nod to take her to the Keating home.
Shocked at Jacob’s admission at the police station, Susanne was only too happy to be Jessie’s chauffeur for the day. During the drive the women talked a little, and Susanne admitted that her love for a local hockey player was her main reason for moving to Vancouver.
“I’m not
telling you who just yet,” she said, chuckling as she steered the car down the Sea to Sky Highway. “It’s confidential until we make it official.”
That comment elicited a small laugh out of Jessie, whose sneakered feet were resting flat against the dash of the car as she smoked. “Well, I’m glad someone else around here has secrets, too,” she said. “I hope he’s not defense, though, those guys are colossal. You need someone, well…” She studied the tall and muscular Susanne. “Okay. I take that back. You can handle a defenseman.”
All in all, Susanne was the perfect foil for Jessie that day. She picked up Jessie’s cues, knowing instinctively when to chat and when to shut up. She didn’t admonish Jessie for smoking, and she distracted her with tales of life in Denmark. Susanne understood the need Jessie had for just driving, and she – and Matt and the others as well – were relieved Jessie was not enduring this day alone.
When the encouraging text bleeped in from Steve, Jessie allowed the driving to stop, and Susanne piloted the car back to La Casa, accompanied by lilting soft jazz on CBC Radio 2.
Charlie and his mother Lydia were at the house keeping Deirdre calm. When the highly recognizable purr of the vintage car preceded its entry into the driveway, Charlie sprang to the door. He was outside before Susanne urged the vehicle to a stop.
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