Calmer today, feeling not so much a foe as a united warrior, Steve pushed open the side door to the garage. The main door was down, an attempt on Josh’s part to both keep out the cold mist as well as the stares of the man who watched over him.
Steve held out the hot cup. “Peace offering,” he said.
Josh was crouched next to the Harley, wiping its chrome for the seventeenth time in a few days. He needed to be busy. He needed to make things shine again. Upon Steve’s entrance into his lonely sanctuary, he stood.
Warily he took the coffee, eyed Steve with suspicion, and then bent over the cup for a tentative sip. “You poison it?”
Steve tried a half-hearted grin. But for all they knew, Jessie had been drugged and hauled away. His attempt at good humor failed him and the grin faded away. “Nah,” he retorted. “I need all the friends I can get right now.”
Josh took that as a good sign. Steve was referring to him as a friend. He gestured to a nearby lawn chair and, as Steve slumped into the seat, Josh leaned against the sturdy wooden workbench he had constructed a few years earlier.
“What’s up? Are you here to fight about Jessie some more?”
Forlorn, Steve leaned his face into his right hand, his elbow resting on the arm of the lawn chair. Around them were the comfortable tools of any man’s workspace - hammers and wrenches and screwdrivers and nails, lots of nails, enough to secure any man’s coffin closed. Everywhere these days Steve saw death. Not knowing where Jessie had gone, or how she left, was killing him. He wondered how people were supposed to get past the loss of a person when only mystery remained. There was no body to bury. There was no Jessie at all.
Straining, he turned his neck around and peered behind him at the Honda Motocross bike. It was dirty, dusty. Josh hadn’t cleaned it the way he was spit-shining his Harley. Steve turned back and narrowed his eyes at Josh.
“Why aren’t you spit shining that bike?”
Josh held the coffee in both hands, to warm his chilled fingers. “You know why.”
Steve nodded. “Yeah. I suppose I do.” Silently, he gratefully acknowledged that Josh somehow seemed to have accepted the fact that he, too, had feelings for their missing girl. The bike was a reminder of better times. It would remain as it was, for it was too painful to endure wiping those memories away just yet.
“Where do you think she is?”
And then Josh understood exactly why Steve showed up in his garage that day. He was there for the same reason Jessie clung to Steve those last few weeks. He needed to be near the person she loved the most. One stop away from Jessie herself, as Steve, to Jessie, had been one stop removed from Josh. He was humbled.
Steve tried again, but the words were faint, a reflection of his faded state of being. “Do you think she’s dead?”
“If you’re asking do I think she killed herself, I say no. She wouldn’t do that to Charles and Dee. If you’re asking do I think someone else, maybe this McCall, killed her, then I also say no. For reasons she’s already given us. So no, I don’t think she’s dead. Besides,” he added, playing with the tab on the lid of his cup, “I think I’d know if she were dead.”
He looked over at Steve, sitting there all hunched over as if his belly hurt, pale and wan in a faded old beach chair.
Steve dove in a little further. “Do you think she left of her own accord, or do you think McCall has her?”
“I think she said her goodbyes and then she left. Of her own accord.”
“You seem pretty certain.”
Josh frowned. “I didn’t help her leave, Steve. I don’t know where she is. I’m not hiding her somewhere. And in that conversation with Charlie on the beach, she said that it had to end. So I think maybe she’s hiding from McCall.”
“Do you think we’ll ever trust each other again? You and me?”
“No. Probably not.”
“Where do you think she went? Prince Edward Island?”
“Maybe. Her mother is there, in a seniors’ home. I doubt she’d stay there, though. She knows we’d look there first.”
“You can’t find someone who doesn’t want to be found.”
Pause.
“No.” Then, “She took her dad’s guitar, Steve. Her old teddy bear. There were large withdrawals from her bank accounts. She planned this. And she would not have gone away with McCall.”
“Not of her own volition, she wouldn’t have. You don’t think.”
“No.”
“So what’s to say she didn’t go with him just to please him? To get him off your case? Or to try to destroy him herself?”
Pondering this, Josh replied soberly, “I don’t have the answers, Steve. I wish I did. But I’m guessing she’ll take another week or two, or maybe a month, and then we’ll hear from her. She wouldn’t just disappear forever, and I think she’s already learned, the hard way, that this McCall guy is a damned defiant foe. I can’t see her choosing to be near him, not now, anyway. She needs a break from his messed up brain. And as for running away for any length of time, well, there are too many people here who care about her, who she cares about…as I said, she wouldn’t do that to Charles and Dee. Besides, she’s supposed to be starting on that film in New York. They’ve already delayed production in the hopes that she’ll be back.” He gave the shiny Harley another swipe, as if the action would affirm his thoughts and make them real, set in stone.
“Charles and Dee,” Steve muttered, eyeing a greasy hole in the wooden floor. “What about us?” Challenging, he regarded Josh, daring him to dispute his own feelings for Jessie.
Taking the high road, Josh accepted that his friend was as hurt over Jessie’s actions as he himself was. He exhaled and a low whistle escaped through his teeth. Biting his bottom lip, he shifted uncomfortably and tapped a finger against the single light bulb so that it swung back and forth on an eerie sweeping arc.
“Don’t go there, man. Jessie’s not exactly typical. And she’s been through hell. Don’t start questioning how she feels about us.” He emphasized the last word so that Steve could interpret it however he saw fit.
“Look, it just pisses me off that she left the way she did. We can question all we want what her motives were and we can justify that she needs some time, but I can’t help but think that she could still be in trouble out there, locked up in McCall’s basement or something. It’s a fucking cruel thing for her to do. And I don’t know about you, Josh, but if she took off because she needs a break, as you say, then I’m fucking pissed that she didn’t tell somebody. Or leave a note or something.”
As he said that, he realized that Jessie had indeed left some kind of note - in her song at Jonathon’s party. But it wasn’t enough for him. Steve needed more closure than a song that nailed down Jessie’s feelings for Josh.
“She said her goodbyes, Steve, and you know it.”
Standing and facing his co-star, Steve bristled. “Half-assed goodbyes, you mean.”
“Yeah, well, whatever.”
“Your cracks are showing, bro.”
“What the hell, Steve? What do you want from me? You want me to start throwing things around, to get really angry? Maybe destroy this place so everyone knows how I really feel?” For emphasis, he slammed his fist against a metal can filled with finishing nails, which splattered all over the floor with a startling crash that jarred Dan out of a quiet reverie outside. With a hollow ring, the empty can laid itself to rest against the neglected motocross bike.
“Jesus, Josh,” Steve jumped, and then complained feebly. “Was that really necessary?”
“Isn’t that what you want? For me to lose my mind over her? Did you ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe, she’s not worth the worry?”
After a lengthy pause during which he studied his friend and adversary, Steve responded with, “Huh. As if.” He knew damn well that Jessie was worth the worry. And he could see in Josh’s hurt, concerned eyes that he was more upset than he was letting on.
Rubbing his forehead, Josh spoke in a pained voice. �
��Look Steve. I am angry with Jessie. For a lot of things, the least of which is why the hell she wouldn’t open up to me when this all started. Or if not to me, then to Matt, or Charles or Dee, or to Charlie, I don’t know…” He looked over at Steve, who seemed desperate for any kind of consolation, for anything to ease his troubled mind. “You. She should have talked to you, even. But she didn’t. So yeah, I’m pissed at her. So maybe it’s good that she went away for a bit, to let us cool off. Maybe Matt will find this McCall asshole and hang him by his balls, and then Jessie will come back and we can all go on with our happy little perfect lives. But in the meantime, it’s not going to do us any good to dwell on last June, or what happened to Jessie all summer, or what Deuce did to her that put her in the hospital.” He grimaced. “We just need to let her go for a while so that we can deal with the shit she’s left us to pick up. Including our own fucked up feelings about this whole mess.”
Steve considered this last tidbit from Josh, then started towards the door. Once there, he turned and looked back at his old friend.
“I just hope she’s okay, man,” he said simply. “And that she reaches out to us if things get crazy for her. That she comes back. Soon.”
Spent, his emotions tattered, Josh’s shoulders slumped. He had nothing left to say. The thought of Jessie never coming back was too great to bear.
With one hand on the garage door, Steve looked back. When he met Josh’s grief-stricken eyes, he was crushed. He got past himself enough to remember that his good friend’s burden was likely ten times ten thousand times worse than his own.
“See you on set, old man.” Steve pushed open the door.
Slowly, Josh raised his coffee cup in salute, and then Steve was gone, lost to the ethereal abyss of mist and spirits.
Later, Josh closed up the garage, popped inside the house for a quick cleanup, and then climbed into the sedan with Dan. They drove to North Van, to the Keatings’ pretty yellow house Jessie loved so much.
Carlotta met them at the front door. “Come in,” she welcomed them. She leaned forward and gathered Josh in her friendly arms. “You are always welcome here as long as I am the maid,” she said. She held him at arm’s length. “My family says I have the power of second sight. I know your heart. I know Jessie’s heart. I know love when I see it.”
He smiled sadly at her. “Carlotta,” Josh said. “Just so you know, I know love too. And I know Jessie loves you dearly.”
She moved away with a guffaw and a wave, “pshaw,” but she was genuinely moved. No wonder Jessie loved this man. No one else had stopped to consider how much Jessie’s disappearance affected Carlotta. No one at all.
Josh made his way into the front room, where Deirdre Keating sat quietly waiting for him. She didn’t move with the exception of a wave of one arm offering him a seat on the chaise across from her. She watched him settle uncomfortably on the edge and straighten the blue linen blazer he chose for this visit. Deirdre herself was adorned in a beige Jackie Kennedy sleeveless dress with a cream cashmere sweater, pearls, and beige heels. Ever the sophisticate, Dee had her ankles crossed as good manners decreed, but her mascaraed eyes were strained and grey.
They studied each other carefully.
“Josh, I don’t know why Jessie left or where she went, but I have the feeling she’d want me to apologize to you for all the wrongs I’ve done you.”
He exhaled slowly, pondering the right choice of words. He figured Charlie would have no problem with this woman, but - he wasn’t Charlie. He struggled.
“Mrs. Keating,” he started.
She put up a hand. “Please. Call me Dee.”
Josh hesitated. “Dee. You have your reasons for feeling the way you do about me. I get th - um, I understand that. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“The world is going to be hard on you, Josh Sawyer.” With the exception of speaking, the elegant Deirdre didn’t move a muscle.
“I know. But eventually they’ll forget. Someone will take our place.”
“No one will ever take Jessie’s place.” Her eyes teared as her shoulders sank.
“I know that too.”
“Do you think she will come back?”
He found it interesting that she, like him, refused to consider that their girl might be dead.
“Yes,” he said, in a whisper. “I do. The great loves endure. All of the great loves.”
She knew he was referring to the last song that Jessie sang, the one they all now referred to as her goodbye song. Like Jessie’s message to Josh, the verse meant for Charles and Dee was also heard loud and clear.
“We’ll be her magnets, Dee. We’ll pull her back.”
She was struggling to remain composed now, sitting there silhouetted against the window, amorphous in the grey light so that he had to strain to see her eyes.
“You have to let us protect you, Josh. And you have to promise me that you won’t go looking for McCall. Because…”
She couldn’t finish, but he knew where she was going with that. If something happened to him…then Jessie would have no real reason to come back. Despite Jessie’s love for Deirdre and Charles, there was no doubt that Josh was the biggest magnet of all.
He moved forward and grasped her manicured hand between his rough fingers. He was amazed at how small and fragile they looked; somehow Josh figured a woman like Dee would have strong, powerful hands. She was diminished here today. Lost without Jessie.
“Dee,” he said. “Jessie has more reasons than just me to come back. And she will, when she’s ready. When she’s had some time.”
Dee smiled through the mist of tears. “Thank you, Josh,” she whispered.
Suddenly they were bound, these two strange and unlikely companions. Unexpectedly, they were on the same path in the proverbial yellow wood, trodding on blackened leaves and tiny white pebbles towards a resplendent silver spark beyond the forest’s edge, to a place where love in all its wondrous and mighty splendor would reign again.
They shared a cup of chamomile tea with Carlotta, who sat amicably by Josh on the chaise she had long vacuumed and dusted for Deirdre Keating.
And then they parted friends.
Had Jessie been watching from the window, she would have been mighty pleased.
***
Chapter Twenty-Five
The day after Jonathon’s party, they leaned on the hood of the borrowed Sunfire before Jessie said goodbye. Arnie pulled out a flask of rum, two of his wife’s chipped mugs, and some Coca Cola he picked up at a convenience store in the sanguine tree-lined streets of the Dunbar neighborhood in Vancouver. Grinning at Jessie’s nerve, he toasted her.
“To the red headed wonder from P.E.I.”
“There’s only one red headed wonder from P.E.I., Arnie, and it sure as hell ain’t me,” she retorted.
He laughed and reached out to touch her shortened red locks. “Looks good on you, girl.”
After he scooped her up from Jonathon’s party, Arnie drove like a mad man to his small apartment on East Hastings. He escorted Jessie in the back entrance, ensuring they were unseen, although he brought a hoodie to place over her head anyway. Inside, they colored her hair an unnatural bright punk red and then, sworn to secrecy, his gal gave her a short bobbed haircut, which changed Jessie’s appearance dramatically.
They drove until the dawn, and before he toasted her Arnie gave Jessie a passport for a redhead named Annie Hayden. She had stashed other items at his apartment earlier that week - cash, Tedsy the teddy bear, her dad’s Gibson, some clothing and personal items, and credit and debit cards for a bank account Arnie helped her arrange for Annie Hayden, containing limited funds shuffled over from some of her own accounts. She didn’t bring any Jessie Wheeler identification. She would make her way on her own if and when the money ran out, as she had before, in what seemed like another lifetime. She also had the magnificent Tiffany & Co. engagement ring from Josh, secured on a tiny leather thong and placed around her neck, under her clothing.
As a pinkish-orange
streak lit the edge of the earth and a new cobalt blue sky created dusky outlines of barns and houses, Arnie and Jessie toasted the end of one life and the beginning of another.
Then the man who promised never to ask questions had his say.
“You don’t have to do this, girl.”
“Yes. I do.”
“Why?” He took a swig of the rum and watched the colorful dawn slowly rise to a lofty height in the sky as he felt himself shrink and become insignificant, despite the grand role he was playing in the universe that day.
She turned to him. “Are you happy, Arnie?”
“Yes. Very much so.”
“Why?”
“Because I live with a woman I love, who loves me back. We have shelter, food. Friends. All the things that you have.” He turned to look at her.
“All of you are safe.” She raised her glass to him. “May you stay that way.”
“We are,” he said. “As safe as one can be living on the Downtown Eastside, that is. And so could you be, if you’d let me in on what’s been going on with you. I have friends in high places.”
“It’s not just that, Arnie. Life has suddenly become complicated, that’s all.”
She took a drink.
“Whoever said love was not complicated, my dear?” he probed gently.
She stared sadly at the expansive world laid out in front of them. “All of this,” she said, “the barns, the houses, the families. That’s what I want. A normal life. That’s what I’ve always wanted. I never chose this life I’ve been living. Somehow it seems to have chosen me.”
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