No Greater Love

by Susan Rodgers

  One of Jessie’s favorite meals. She smiled and looked down at her toes, her cheeks pink. The attention was nice but unwarranted, in her humble opinion.

  “All right then,” Steve said. One more hug, and he was off.

  “I’m just going to take a walk around,” Jessie said faintly. “I’ve missed this place.” She was throwing Dee a bone, anything to make her feel Jessie wanted to be here which, in fact, she only sort of did.

  She wandered down the bright hallway and into the music studio Charles built years ago at the back of the house, on the east side behind the kitchen area. Jessie dragged a wooden stool out into the middle of the open spacious high ceilinged room. It cut across the floor with a loud eerie scrape, but she was too emotionally drained to even consider lifting it. Sitting on the stool, her skirt resting across her thighs and the leather boots settled on the bottom rung, she retrieved her cell phone from her sweater pocket and texted Jacob.

  Hey you

  She sat a little hunched over, grasping the cell phone securely between her hands as she looked around the room, remembering the many times she and Charles worked late into the night sorting out lyrics, melodies, guitar licks, piano chords and background harmonies. Christian was over quite often in those days, offering accompaniment on the grand piano in the corner. A large window on the north side of the studio offered a pleasant vista of Dee’s lovely gardens, where bright yellow sunflowers stretched lazily in the summertime, protected by a brick garden wall which also harbored nearby demure pink and purple hollyhocks. Hummingbirds, which Deirdre worked hard to find the right sugary formula to attract, had finally started to come around to the feeders she placed near the window. Jessie allowed herself a small chuckle as she remembered Dee’s valiant attempts to win the diminutive winged creatures over, wondering how they liked the often amplified music emanating from inside.

  The phone bleeped, jarring her from her reverie. In Jessie’s hands was a message from Jacob. Jessie’s heart pounded as her eyes glistened. Suddenly she was overcome with a sense of loneliness so profound she feared she might experience a full-blown anxiety attack. Knowing who waited at the other end of her phone, though, was somewhat calming. She peeked at the screen.

  Vancouver sucks

  She giggled.

  You ass at least it’s sunny

  Yeah but I hear the music scene is grimy and seedy

  Why doncha come over and see for yourself

  Mebbe I will

  Mebbe you should

  Silence. Then, from Edinburgh:

  Do u miss me yet

  Damn straight

  Katrine wants to know if you had your orgasm yet today

  She laughed out loud at that. From outside the studio, far enough down the hallway where she couldn’t see them but where Charles and Deirdre could watch her, Charles squeezed his wife’s hand.

  He whispered, “See? She’s going to be all right, Dee. We just need to give her time.”

  “Well,” Dee said, watching Jessie text. “Someone is sure making her happy.” She was saddened it wasn’t Josh. Charles had told her a little about this Jacob guy. Likely it was he Jessie was texting. They observed for a minute and then let her be – she deserved her privacy. The last thing the Keatings wanted to do was crowd her, suffocate her, frighten her away.

  Jessie’s thumbs flew over the letters.

  Tell Katrine no I have not I would prefer my man for that

  Again, a few silent moments passed. Then:

  When r u coming back

  When r u coming here I am missing u too

  G2G Katrine is growling at me we r at café and I am ignoring her

  Jessie’s face fell. So this would be it – a life of texting, and hopefully some phone calls, but she’d be responsible for her own orgasms until when - and if - she and Jacob could work through this shit. She laughed at herself for that. But she would miss his touch, running her fingers along the cross on his back, holding him. Playing music with him. Loving him.

  OK but Jacob

  Yeah kiddo

  I do love you. You know that, right?

  Yeah

  And then, also from him:

  I love you back come back to me

  And a moment later:

  Go have that orgasm now. alone

  Jessie wrote back:

  Perve c ya

  C ya

  If Charles and Dee came back around they would now see a forlorn girl sitting alone on the stool. Jessie stayed in the room soaking up the good memories and pondering the bad until Carlotta wandered in an hour later.

  Tentatively she said, “Jessie?”

  Jessie looked up, surprised. By then she was curled up on the canvas couch along the west wall of the studio, running various scenarios around in her head. She propped herself up on one elbow.

  “Hey, Carlotta. How have you been?” Her voice came out a little high-pitched, unsure.

  Reaching a hand into her apron pocket, Carlotta withdrew a small photo. Shyly, she handed it to Jessie. In it, smiling effusively with the joy of an unscathed life, was a new baby, maybe six weeks old.

  “I’m a grandmother,” the maid enthused happily. “My son and his wife. It’s a boy. Eric.”

  At that, Jessie sat up fully and studied the picture. She handed it back, wondering whether she would ever have a baby. Likely not til I kick the smoking habit, she reprimanded herself. And the weed habit. Boy, how bad did she want some weed right now.

  “Carlotta, I’m so happy for you!” she responded, smiling as she forced her mind off the image and sweet smell of some soothing marijuana.

  “I have some other news,” Carlotta said, beaming. “I have a boyfriend now!”

  “Ah ha!” Jessie exclaimed. Well, she would have no trouble warming back up to the friendly maid. But oh so much had changed in what seemed to be such a short time. It was a leap into the future, as if she was asleep, like Rip Van Winkle, or had time travelled, perhaps. “I knew there was a glow about you.”

  “He was here to plant some new trees for Missus Keating. She ended up hiring him,” she winked, “because I think she saw me looking at him. He’s very nice looking!”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Richard. He has grey hair.” Carlotta moved her hands up to her head and stirred them around a little wildly. “A lot of grey hair! Handsome, I think.”

  Grateful for Carlotta’s generosity in speaking with her as if she were the same girl they once knew and loved instead of some weird stranger with wild hair and a serious smoking habit, Jessie linked an arm through Carlotta’s and they went off to the kitchen to bake chocolate chip cookies.

  In some ways, it was nice to be home.

  ***

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Instead of travelling straight back to Sophie, Stephen pointed his Audi TT south towards the UBC grounds. He steered the slick little silver car into Josh’s driveway and turned the purring engine off, regretfully. He loved the sound of that car and the surge of horsepower beneath his feet. The stereo wasn’t so bad, either. He listened to one of Jessie’s slow ballads all the way over – again and again. Lordy, how he couldn’t wait to hear her sing live again, regardless of the fact the concert they would soon be scheduling would in all reality be staged to lure Deuce McCall out of hiding. There was just something purely divine and magical about Jessie’s presence on stage. She was exquisite. No surprise Deuce was freakishly obsessed with her.

  Steve had a strange lump in his throat as he shoved open the sports car’s door and set one foot on the ground. He felt sluggish and tired after the whirlwind trip, which in his mind he was starting to think of as a rescue, although he knew for certain Jessie would disagree. Heaving himself out of the low car, he limped to the garage where a soft orange light from within told him Josh was working on one of his bikes. The Harley, most likely. His friend wasn’t too interested in the motocross bike since that fateful summer at Agassiz almost two years ago now.

  Glancing surreptitiously around, Steve
was relieved to see Michelle’s Lexus SUV was not in sight. This was a conversation that would demand no witnesses.

  He pushed the side door open. It creaked on a set of rusty hinges.

  “Ya oughtta oil those up,” he said, stepping inside to find Josh seated on a stumpy stool shining up the chrome gas tank with a soft cotton rag.

  “Hey. I thought that was you, judging by the sound of that little pissant thing you call a car. How was New Mexico or L.A., or wherever the hell you rushed off to?”

  Josh gave the bike one last swipe before he stood. He leaned against the wooden counter where he stored his tools and faced Steve, his feet crossed casually at the ankles.

  Running a finger over a nearby hammer resting on a shelf, because he had to find the words before he could come clean to his good friend, Steve paused. Josh wrinkled his brow, watching him.

  “What? You got the part? You’re leaving town too?”

  “It’s not that,” Steve said. “In fact I kind of want to stick around now more than ever. At least for a while.” Ultimately he had to force some courage up from somewhere in his gut in order to meet Josh’s gaze across the small room. The incandescent light bathed them in its innocuous glow. This was a good space, a safe place where Josh found peace working amongst his tools and bikes.

  “I wasn’t auditioning, Josh. I took off with Charles Keating. There was…a tip we needed to follow-up.”

  Nervously, he picked up the hammer and banged it a few times on the ledge. Tap-tap-tap. It echoed the beating of his heart – loud and fast.

  Across from him Josh uncrossed his ankles, frowning. Suddenly he was afraid. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear more. Breaking out in a sweat, he glanced down, wiped his fingers on the cloth, and then wiped them again on his white T-shirt. Stephen noticed he was wearing his J leather choker, the stylized medallion Jessie gave him the one Christmas they actually blissfully spent together. He likely told Michelle it stood for Josh, not Jessie. Maybe it did. Whatever.

  Abruptly, Stephen set the hammer down entirely and watched Josh try to prepare himself for some kind of final news about Jessie.

  Josh was thinking it was a long time coming – days, weeks, months, more than a year of wondering and worrying. There was guilt because Josh felt he could have helped her; she left ostensibly because she thought her leaving would keep him safe. But now – he had Michelle, who was living here with him. They were planning a future together. Maybe it would be best if…but that thought was unthinkable. He wanted Jessie back, if not directly in his life as his partner, then at least safely home in Vancouver. He ran his tongue over his lips and followed that by briefly biting his nails. He couldn’t settle.

  Then he raised his head and gazed at Steve expectantly. “Okay,” he said, waiting for the inevitable.

  “We brought her home,” Steve said, his eyes flickering. “This morning.”

  He saw fear cross Josh’s face. But Josh was too afraid to ask. Steve realized he needed to clarify that point.

  “Alive,” he said. “Alive, Josh. Healthy. Well, with the exception of smoking like a damned furnace…and an irascible bitchy mood…” he drifted off, unsure.

  Josh sank down on the bottom shelf of the worktable. Pressing the cloth to his face only to be rewarded with a nice whiff of chemical polish, he felt dizzy and sick. Silent, Steve observed him before reaching forward and grabbing the cloth out of his friend’s hands.

  “You’re gonna asphyxiate yourself.”

  “Jesus, Steve. I’m not sure I’m up for this.”

  “Which part?”

  “How about all of it?” Josh lowered his head into his hands and stared at the rough wooden floor pockmarked with bits of nails, grease spots and dents from heavy boots.

  “Look,” Steve said. “You remember the open mic last week at Charlie’s?”

  “Yeah,” Josh finally raised his head and met Steve’s steady gaze.

  “That guy in the plaid shirt who played the song about Jessie?”

  “What about him?”

  Steve swallowed. “He led us to her. She had – has - a flat in Edinburgh.”

  “Scotland?”

  “No, California. Yes, Scotland!” He paused. “She was living there under an alias, colored her hair - purple, actually, if you must know, although I understand it was once bright red. Short.” He gestured at his own hair, tensely trying to fill in the gaps. “She got there in late September. Like the postcard said, she was in China for a while, all over the place, actually. Running. Hiding.”

  “But she’s all right.” Josh looked back down at the floor and studied a rusty nail by the toe of his boot.

  Hesitating, Steve struggled to answer that. “She’s angry. Worried about all of us and how pissed we are at her. Scared to death about McCall.”

  Lightning fast, Josh’s head darted back up.

  Steve continued, eyeing him warily, knowing this would scare the shit out of him as well. “I don’t think we would have got her home Josh, except…except…this guy…from the club that night…well, his name is Jacob, actually. Well it seems he felt she…had some unfinished business here she needed to tend to. Deuce McCall for one, and…” He inhaled deeply. “You, for the other.”

  At that, Josh gripped a support leg on the workbench and boosted himself out of his low perch. Grim, he stood and faced Stephen.

  “Fuck,” he said heatedly. “Unfinished business my ass. McCall maybe, but she made her choices where I am concerned almost two years ago. Thanks for letting me know, Steve, I’m glad I heard this from you.”

  A car pulled into the driveway, prompting them to bring their stilted conversation to a conclusion. Stephen spoke again. “Just keep it quiet, okay? For a few days at least, until the Keatings figure out how to handle this.”

  “You mean Michelle?”

  “She’s a fucking publicist, Josh. Especially Michelle.”

  “Does Sophie know? Hell, does Charlie know?”

  “Sophie doesn’t work with the press. And Charles was planning to call Charlie today.”

  “Maggie? Carter? Sue-Lyn? Jonathon?” Josh’s voice was rising in pitch. “Why me? Why did you bother telling me? And then asking me not to tell Michelle?”

  Steve watched him with a displeased expression. “Jesus, Josh,” he said. “Tell me you at least still give a bit of a shit about her. I mean, I get that you’re angry, we all are, what she did was stupid and selfish but…”

  Outside, a door slammed. Confident high-heeled footsteps started up the driveway.

  “I’ve made a new life,” Josh said firmly. “And there is no room in it to get fucked over again by Jessie Wheeler.”

  “Well,” Steve remarked coolly as he headed for the door. “I guess that’s a good thing, because Jessie Wheeler is deeply in love with another man anyway. So I guess that works out well for everyone then, eh? And probably will keep Deuce the fuck McCall, as she calls him, off your redneck back. Pickup truck. Shit. What do I even see in you?”

  Narrowing his eyes as he heard Michelle approach, Josh couldn’t help himself. He asked, “Who? What new man? I thought you said she was living incognito.”

  “She was. He’s getting used to the idea that the girl he loves is actually rather famous.”

  He stepped outside the door, but paused before he closed it. “And it’s Jacob. The guy who sang the song at the club that night? The soulful dude in the plaid shirt who left everyone feeling remorseful and shitty? That guy.”

  “What the hell?” Josh whispered, confused. Michelle was just outside. He could hear her greeting Steve. “That sketchy guy?”

  “She’s crazy about him. He’s a hell of a musician.”

  “But he didn’t know who she was.”

  “Ain’t that a daisy. See ya, bro.” Then, animatedly, “Hey, Michelle, what’s new? You’re looking rather dazzling – are those new shoes?” He whistled, closed the door behind him, and chatted with Michelle in order to give Josh a few minutes to gather his thoughts.

  Inside,
Josh placed a hand on the workbench and leaned heavily on it. He couldn’t deny feeling a certain dangerous excitement in his stomach at the thought of seeing Jessie again. But she came with a shit ton of baggage, the kind of baggage that could end a man’s life, in fact. Yet – he felt dead without her. Almost two years, and he knew he still loved her - always and forever, they had promised each other. And he’d held on to that, despite the lingering loss that seemed to grow more dear each day she was gone, disappearing with any hope she would ever safely return. Yet here she was – back in Vancouver, escorted here by their good friend, and apparently not necessarily happy about it, either.

  This would destroy Michelle if he didn’t keep his wits about him. Josh exhaled slowly as he took it all in, all the implications of having Jessie back in his life in any way, shape or form. Maybe, just maybe, it was easier loving and missing a ghost. To have the real girl back, in a physical reality he could hold and touch…well, he could already feel the old agony starting again. To see her, yet not be able to hold her. It was already too much.

  Steve said they were angry, well hell yeah, he was certainly angry. Josh was so angry Michelle could get nary a word out of him all through dinner preparation that evening, nor during eating and cleanup.

  Then, late that night, Josh tore out of the driveway in the King Ranch pick-up. His blood pressure had been rising steadily all day. He’d gone to bed but sleep refused to set his restless mind free.

  Josh drove downtown, crossing first the Burrard Bridge and then the Lions Gate Bridge. He skidded into the Keating driveway, and then slammed the truck door behind him. He needed to see her for himself. He needed to tell Jessie what he thought of her dramatics, of leaving them all behind and cutting them off the way she did.

  He had to see her again.

  He had to.

  ***

  Josh rang the doorbell three times in quick succession and then started banging on the door. When Carlotta answered, sleepy and disheveled, he didn’t greet her. Instead, he barged past the kind maid and headed straight for the media room down the hallway and to the left, from where low voices emanated. Judging from the assorted vehicles in the parking area of the Keating driveway, he already determined he would have an audience for his tirade, for he knew he was heading towards some form of rant. Josh’s blood pressure had been building since Steve’s late morning visit. He was ready to erupt.