Mending Jodie's Heart (When Paths Meet Book 1)

by Sheila Claydon

  She gave a sigh of irritation as she keyed his name into the computer’s search engine. Maybe if she checked him out she would be able to find a clue about how best to disarm him. If she could make him see how important the bridleway was to the children who attended the disabled riding program, then maybe he would change his mind about closing it. Maybe he would change his mind about his son too.

  She clicked the computer mouse and his name flashed up on the screen. There were hundreds of links. Some referred to songs, some to films, and some to newspaper articles. Her hand hovered indecisively. Then she clicked on his website. The website she had once ignored in disgust.

  His face stared back at her: thin and serious and as familiar as his dark hair with its frosting of silver, and his blue, blue eyes. She would have known who he was much earlier if only she’d bothered to look over Izzie’s shoulder when she was scrolling through his website searching for his non-existent contact details. Irritated with herself, she clicked on the All About Marcus tab and began to read.

  She didn’t stop until she had absorbed every last detail of his professional life including his list of musical compositions, the film scores, the concerts and appearances…it went on and on. Marcus Lewis was obviously a workaholic. Nobody could produce that amount of work and have a private life as well. It just wasn’t possible.

  She clicked back to the opening page, back to his picture, and stared at it. The pain was right there in his eyes, the pain she’d seen when he told her about his son. The deep down despair was there, too, if you knew what to look for, and the helpless anger. His image misted over as her eyes filled with tears. She could see all of it in his face because she identified with it. Those feelings were the ones she lived with every day of her life.

  Closing the computer, she pulled a screwed up tissue from her dressing gown pocket and scrubbed at her eyes. She wasn’t going to cry. She never cried. She had cried enough to last a lifetime when Mama died and when, for one terrible year, she’d thought she might lose Izzie too, so she wasn’t going to feel sorry for Marcus Lewis because she had more than enough problems of her own to deal with.

  Tipping the cold remains of her drink into the sink, she trailed back upstairs to where a triangle of light from her sister’s bedroom bisected the landing. Pushing the door wide she took four silent steps across to the bed and looked down at her.

  She was curled onto her side, her knees drawn up and one hand tucked under her cheek. Lying on the pillow beside her was a threadbare rabbit with one eye. Jodie’s hand hovered over her for a long moment until she pulled it back and stuffed it into her pocket. Gone were the days when she could smooth back Izzie’s hair and kiss her cheek while she was asleep. As she had told Jodie only a few hours earlier, she was almost grown up. And it was true. It had been a long time since she had crept into Jodie’s bed when she couldn’t sleep. She was no longer the little girl who needed constant reassurance and the physical contact of hugs and kisses. Those days were gone. And it was good they had. Nowadays she could pass as a normal teenager, and mostly an exceptionally intelligent and level headed one too.

  Nowadays there were even moments when Jodie, her life too constrained by work and worry to invest in learning new things, felt younger and less sophisticated than her little sister. It was only when Izzie was asleep that she could see the shadow of the frightened child she had once been. It was there in the open doorway. It hovered over the nightlight. And it made its presence most felt when she fell asleep clutching her cotton rabbit.

  Jodie’s heart lurched. How was her sister going to cope when it was time for her to go off to university? They were going to have to talk about it…find some sort of solution. Maybe she could persuade her to choose a university close to home so she could still sleep in her own bed.

  Chapter Six

  Marcus glanced up from his computer as the trailer door opened, expecting to see his site manager. Instead, a leggy blonde wearing too much make up and too few clothes confronted him.

  “Who the hell are you?” he demanded.

  “Nice!” she said. “With a few tweaks it would make a good headline.”

  “So would journalist thrown out for trespassing on private property!”

  “It would if it were true,” she conceded, pushing the trailer door shut behind her and leaning against the wall.

  Marcus sighed. A groupie! That was all he needed. He’d spent months searching for the right place to build his house, looking for somewhere close enough to the main arterial roads that led to airports and big cities to make travel easy, but isolated enough to give him the peace and space he needed to concentrate on his work. Isolated enough, too, to protect Luke from the outside world that so distressed him now he was growing older.

  The search, the negotiations, the meetings with architects and builders had eaten into the hours he needed to complete his latest project, but he had considered it worth it until the girl with the large chestnut horse had disrupted his plans. And now this! He hadn’t even considered fans, and if he had he would have dismissed them, sure they would be few and far between in such a small, tucked away village.

  He stood up. “Who let you in?”

  “Nobody. I climbed the gate.”

  “Didn’t you see the no trespassing sign?”

  “Oh that!” she waved a hand as if the red and white board was a mere inconvenience. “I didn’t take any notice of it. I knew you’d talk to me.”

  “Really! I’d be interested to know when you figured that out. Was it as you were climbing over the locked gate, or was it when you walked past the sign?”

  She grinned at him and for a brief moment he was pierced by a sense of bewildering familiarity. “It wasn’t any of those. It was because you talked to Jodie.”

  He frowned. “Jodie, as in small, dark and irritating? Jodie as in permanently attached to a large chestnut horse?”

  “That’s the one,” she agreed, her grin stretching wider. “And you’re right, she can be very irritating, but it’s only because she cares.”

  “So you’re not a fan. You’re here about that damned bridleway.”

  Yes…no…I mean…yes I am a fan, and no I’m not here about the bridleway…well not specifically anyway.”

  He shook his head. “How about you just tell me what you are here for…specifically…and then you go.”

  Ignoring his sarcasm she pushed herself off the wall and stood upright in front of him. As she did so her grin faded and she suddenly looked very serious.

  “I want you to give me music lessons.”

  Whatever he had expected, it wasn’t that. For a long moment he stared at her, then he burst into genuine laughter. She had nerve, he had to give her that. And if she was aiming at a stage career then she had the right equipment too. Tall and willowy with legs that went on forever, she looked good.

  His laughter died when he noticed the desperation in her eyes. She wasn’t anywhere near as confident as she looked. Underneath the provocative clothes and the makeup she was frightened to death, but there was a hunger there he recognized from his own past. Against his better judgment the musician in him was intrigued.

  “You’re not joking are you?”

  She shook her head and for a moment he thought he saw the glitter of tears.

  “So tell me what you have in mind. Am I supposed to give you a singing lesson or a piano lesson, or maybe you just want to learn to write music. What is it you think I can do for you that all those people who teach music for a living can’t?”

  She leaned forward, her fingers white with tension as they pressed against the desk.

  “Lessons not lesson,” she corrected him. “And it’s none of those things. I want you to teach me stage techniques. I want you to teach me how to perform.”

  “And I should do this because…?”

  “Because I have an amazing voice. And because I want to make it as a singer.”

  “So why not take the time honored route and start touting for gigs in pubs and club
s? Or maybe you feel that every day the world doesn’t hear your amazing voice is a day wasted.”

  She didn’t even hear the sarcasm this time. Instead she leaned even closer; close enough for him to see he had been right about the tears.

  “I’d start searching out gigs tomorrow if Jodie would let me, but she won’t. She wants me to go to university and study something noble like medicine or law. And I know I’m clever enough to, but it’s not what I want. I want to leave school and take my chances as a singer, and once you’ve seen how good I am you’ll know I’m right, and then between us we might just be able to persuade her.”

  “Whoa!” Marcus backed away until the chair behind him forced him to sit down again. “Before we go any further would you mind telling me exactly how old you are?”

  She shook her head impatiently. “What’s my age got to do with anything?”

  “A lot when you’re shut in a trailer with a stranger. How old are you?”

  “Sixteen…so you don’t need to worry because I’m legal. In fact I’m almost seventeen,” she added, her eyes flashing defiantly.

  He groaned. “If you think being sixteen gets you off the hook then you’ve a lot to learn about life young lady. Besides it’s not just you I’m thinking about, it’s my reputation as well.”

  “Oh you don’t need to worry about that. I didn’t tell anyone I was coming to see you. Jodie thinks I’m at home studying.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “They don’t think anything. They’re both dead. There’s only Jodie. She’s my sister. If it wasn’t for her I would be in care or adopted or something. I owe her everything and I’d do absolutely anything for her except give up my dream of making it as a singer. That’s why I need you to help me. I need you to persuade her I’m good enough to try.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know what has given you that idea but you couldn’t be more wrong. Your sister wouldn’t listen to me if I were the last man on earth.”

  “She would. I know she would. She’s been moping around ever since she had coffee with you, and Jodie has never moped about anyone before.”

  He gave a wry smile. “I think you’ll find her moping has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the bridleway.”

  “No it hasn’t. If it was just about the bridleway then she’d still be mad. But she’s not. She’s just…well mopey! Everyone has noticed it. And when I asked what the two of you talked about, she snapped my head off.”

  Marcus stared at her wordlessly. He’d been waiting for a phone call from the local paper ever since he’d told Jodie about Luke, which is why he’d thought this girl was a journalist when he first saw her. Yet here she was, telling him Jodie had never breathed a word of their conversation, that the protective silence he had built around his son hadn’t been breached.

  Still not sure what had prompted him to open up to Jodie in the first place, and irritated by the number of sleepless nights he’d suffered because of it, he was surprised into an overwhelming feeling of relief. This was quickly followed by an unwelcome sense of obligation.

  He pushed back his chair, stood up again and, stripping off his sweater, thrust it at her. “Against my better judgment I’ll give you thirty minutes, but before I do I’m going to make some coffee. And while I do that, you are going to put this on, open the door and sit on the step in full view of passersby. I don’t want anyone wondering what’s going on inside this trailer.

  Her grin came back as she took the sweater from him. It lit up her face, banishing the glitter of tears and putting a smile into her striking turquoise eyes. “No chance of that,” she said. “There are no passersby. You put up a No Trespassers notice, remember?”

  For a fleeting moment he saw the resemblance again. The smile was Jodie’s, even though they were physically very different.

  “You don’t look anything like your sister,” he said, ignoring her jibe.

  “Different fathers is all,” she shrugged as she pushed open the door. Then she turned back to him and her cheeks flushed pink.

  “I’d rather have a cola if you’ve got one. Or water. Water would do.”

  She was suddenly much younger and less sure of herself. He smiled at her. “Not acquired a taste for coffee yet?”

  She shook her head.

  He grabbed a couple of cans from the fridge and joined her on the step. Settling himself next to her, he handed her one of them. “Okay, cola it is. Now suppose you start by telling me your name…”

  Chapter Seven

  Izzie was studying at the kitchen table when Jodie arrived home. Surrounded by papers and open textbooks, she barely acknowledged her. Jodie gave a tired smile as she bent down to unzip her riding boots. Kicking them into the corner she padded across to the sink in her socks and filled the kettle.

  “Tea,” she offered. “Or would you rather have juice?”

  “Neither. I just had a drink,” Izzie didn’t lift her eyes from the page she was reading.

  Although the table was remarkably clear of the usual clutter of mugs and biscuit crumbs that were part and parcel of her studies, Jodie didn’t comment. Nor did she say anything about the bicycle propped against the porch, even though it was a giveaway. She had long ago learned to fight the battles that needed fighting and ignore the smaller skirmishes. It wasn’t the end of the world if she had met up with a friend for a couple of hours just so long as she’d spent most of the day revising for her exams.

  Dropping a teabag into a mug of hot water, she sloshed it from side to side with a spoon. As she did so her mind went back to her own teenage years and she shuddered. Thank goodness Izzie was more level headed than she had been. She remembered the fights she’d had with her mother and her decision to leave home the moment she was old enough so she could follow her dream; a dream that had taken her so far away from her family it had been almost twenty-four hours before she learned about the accident that had left her mother dead and her sister so mentally traumatized she was still afraid of the dark ten years later.

  Flicking the teabag into the sink she walked across to the fridge for some milk. As she did so she noticed Izzie’s shoulders were shaking.

  Milk forgotten, she stopped by her sister’s chair. “You’re crying.”

  “Only because I’m happy.”

  Noticing the pile of scrunched up tissues on the table for the first time, Jodie frowned.

  “Want to tell me about it?”

  “Mmm…yes…I guess so,” Izzie wriggled around in her chair. Then she pulled up her feet, wrapped her arms around her concertinaed legs and pressed her forehead into her knees.

  Jodie’s heart sank. This was Izzie’s I know I’m in trouble pose. It was something she’d done often when she was younger, a sort of ‘head in the sand’ action so she didn’t have to look at Jodie. It was also something she hadn’t done for a very long time. Jodie pulled out the chair opposite and lowered herself into it.

  “I’m not going to like this am I?”

  “Probably not,” her reply was muffled. Then, while Jodie’s mind was still flashing through a whole litany of negative scenarios, she lifted her head, squared her shoulders, and looked her in the eye.

  “Marcus Lewis is going to give me music lessons,” she said.

  She may as well have said she was flying to the moon as far as Jodie was concerned.

  “What do you mean, he’s giving you music lessons? You haven’t even met him.”

  “I have. I visited him this afternoon. I climbed the gate, just like you did,” she added defiantly.

  Noticing the smudges of mascara and the remnants of lipstick on her tearstained face, Jodie jerked forward and pulled down the neck of her sister’s sweater. Beneath it she was wearing a sequined halter-top that showed more than it covered. It had been a bone of contention between them ever since she had found it in a charity shop and paired it with an equally miniscule skirt that showed off her long legs to perfection and left little else to the imagination.

  “What e
xactly have you been up to?” she demanded.

  The eager expression on Izzie’s face changed to a sullen frown. “I knew you’d be like this.”

  Jodie sat back with a sigh. “What did you expect? That I’d be delighted to learn you’ve visited a man old enough to be your father, in his trailer? Whatever were you thinking of? He might have taken advantage of you. Celebrities like him are used to fans throwing themselves at them.”

  “He didn’t though,” Izzie’s voice was small as she fingered the sweater. “He said I had to put this on and then he made me sit on the trailer steps with the door wide open. He said he wanted anyone passing by to be able to see me while we talked. He said he didn’t want people thinking he let young girls visit his trailer on their own.”

  Then she grinned. “Only thing was, he forgot about the gate and the trespass sign. There weren’t any passersby. There never will be any passersby.”

  Jodie stared at her. Then she smiled as relief washed over her. That it was about more than her sister’s safety was something she didn’t want to think about.

  Izzie gave her a pleading look. “I can go can’t I? Only he said he wouldn’t give me lessons unless you said he could. He said to tell you to visit him and talk about it.”

  “Oh, he did, did he?” Jodie was surprised by the curl of warmth that coursed through her at the thought of meeting him again. “Well I suppose talking about it can’t do any harm, so yes, I’ll go and talk to him, even if it’s just to apologize for the fact you turned up dressed to impress!”

  Like a ray of sunshine coming out, Izzie’s face lit up. Her tear-washed eyes sparkled as she tumbled out of her chair and threw herself at Jodie in a tangle of arms and legs. Hugging her tightly she could feel the sharp bones of her ribs through the thick sweater. Her sister might be almost a head taller than her now. She might be difficult sometimes. But she was still the person she loved best in the world.