81 - Five Months, Two Weeks

Just wanted to let you know up front that this is a long chapter - double the length of the usual ones.  Relax and enjoy!  Also, if you're on Facebook, feel free to join us in the Jovi Journals group.  You can be the first to know when my new story starts to post, because there IS a new one already in progress!  Look forward to seeing you!  <3 blush

Thursday, October 8, 2015

Standing at the crowd’s edge, she discreetly observed the well-dressed guests and patrons of the National Civil War Museum as they milled about with hors d’oeuvres and flutes of champagne.  Most of them were nicely attired in what she would call their Sunday best, while others had chosen a more formal look with black ties, diamonds and sparkling gowns. 

Cassidy was somewhere in between with a silk, olive green wrap dress that hugged her figure from knees to shoulders and hung a few inches lower in the back than the front.  Although perhaps not the best choice for an October event, it was sleeveless and left her arms bare of everything except two black leather bracelets.   The bracelet encircling her left wrist was a one-inch band, woven through a series of silver buckles while the one on her left had linguine-sized leather strips threaded through a silver bar.  Both were crafted from the same object – Jon’s belt. 

It had been exactly five months and twelve days since the package from him had arrived, along with the note that was now tucked into her jewelry box.

Dixie,

Brevity:  I didn’t buy the team.  I’m getting divorced. 

Because that’s probably not what you consider the “sexy brevity”, I won’t leave it at that.

The divorce could turn ugly, so the lawyer said it’s best for us to sever all contact until everything’s final in two months to a year.  It sucks and I hate it, but I don’t feel like I can do anything other than comply and hope you’ll be there on the other side.

To entice you, because I know how much you like the feel of my belt wrapped around your wrists, I had it made into these bracelets.  Wear them as a reminder of what you’re waiting for.

I’ll talk to you when I can.

Love,

J

As good as his intentions had been, he wasn’t able to completely sever ties.  In mid-May, he’d borrowed David’s phone to call briefly, letting her know that they were in the studio recording the “Burning Bridges” album she’d helped him to write.  In early August, he’d done the same thing so that he could tell her the album was being released on the fifteenth – her birthday. 

The next call didn’t come until September ninth, and it was his name that appeared on the caller ID.  Instinctively knowing what that meant, she soon confirmed that this was the one she’d been waiting for since April.  His divorce was final.

Cassidy had been on the verge of excitement when he added that the band was in the process of boarding a flight Southeast Asia where he would be for the next three weeks, followed by Israel.  The regret was evident in his voice when apologizing for the lousy timing, but she brushed it away and cheerfully told him to go do his thing.  They’d make up for lost time soon enough, and she’d see him on YouTube in the meantime.

Each of those calls had been a gift in its own way, but not one of them had been used to explain why he didn’t buy the team.  With curiosity eating at her, she finally tracked down Clay Adams to see what he might be able to tell her.  Clay had no more idea than she did and, when she posed the question to David during one of their sporadic conversations, he snorted with disgust and declared, “If you don’t know the answer to that, then I’m sure as fuck not going to be the one to tell you.” 

That left her here, months later, with still no clue as to what prompted Jon’s choice of divorce over a football team and, when she finally came face to face with him again, getting that answer was going to be high on her list of priorities.  Right after she kissed the stuffing out of him – and maybe a little more.

They were in the final stretch toward that moment, with only a few days left until he was expected back in the country, and anticipation was already making her fidgety.  A month ago, she would have said that the call about his finalized divorce was going to be the most highly awaited she would receive.  That had gone by the wayside with the change in circumstances, however.  Of all his calls, the next was going to be the biggest milestone, as it would signify not only the end of a long dry spell but the beginning of – she hoped – something more.

There were times, usually in the dead of night when she couldn’t sleep, that the past five-plus months seemed like an endless eternity and she was grateful for the overfilled days that offset that feeling.  From the time her eyes opened each morning, the hours had flown by until it was time to try and close them again. 

The first major project had been selling her house in Moreland to buy another, bigger place just north of Nashville.  It made for a hectic month of June with packing up her belongings and coaxing her sister to accompany her for a fresh start away from Darrel.   Finally agreeing, Libby and the boys joined in the great move and Cassidy couldn’t be prouder of her little sister. 

They hadn’t even finished settling into the house when Libby applied, and was accepted, to a radiologic technology program at the nearby community college.  She had just completed the first month of classes and was doing well despite the chore of getting the boys acclimated to a new school and working a full-time waitressing job. 

Cassidy wasn’t far behind with her list of accomplishments, feeling like she’d done a little bit of everything – twice – since last seeing Jon.   There had been many discussions and meetings with John Shanks and Obie about the possibility recording a solo album, she had taken a host of vocal and guitar lessons, was recruited by someone at Blackbird to do some backing vocals on a country album and, to keep things balanced, she applied to a doctorate of nursing program.

She'd even gone out to the solitude of the cabin a few times to try her hand at songwriting.  Nothing great had come of it, but it made her feel closer to Jon and had resulted in a couple of rough drafts she'd like for him to hear.

For a paycheck, she was playing bartender most evenings and working a couple of day shifts a week at one of the family clinics.

Lots of options had been explored but, as far as having made any concrete plans for her life… That hadn’t happened.  Completely contradicting what she told Jon the last time they saw one another, Cassidy couldn’t seem to take the first resolute step down any one path and move on with her life.  She was standing still, but not stagnant, waiting for Jon to reappear.

In all respects.

Every time a handsome man flirted with her from the other side of the bar and asked her on a date, she was tempted to take him up on the offer just for some company.  That usually lasted about ten seconds, until she reminded herself it was cruel to lead a man on when she knew good and well that it wouldn’t go anywhere.  Even though love wasn’t mentioned in the times they’d spoken, her heart still belonged to Jon. 

She’d find out soon enough if he still felt the same.

“Hey, Squirt.  You ‘bout ready?”

Gerald Ray had come to join them for the opening of the “Lost and Found Confederate Gold” exhibit, and she thought he looked quite handsome with his freshly trimmed hair, dark suit and tie.  Uncle Stanley was also invited but he refused to be a part of this “disgrace to our forefathers”, which suited her fine.  He was still iffy with when his mental faculties would be in full working order.

She wished Calliope had been able to join in on the brouhaha, but a new semester was underway at Duke, leaving only Libby and the boys, Gerald Ray and herself to represent the family.  Since neither her sister nor her cousin would get up in front of a crowd, Cassidy was elected to say a few words. 

“As I get, I reckon,” she mused, noting that people were beginning to crowd into the floor space between the double curved staircases.  “Can you believe all these folks are here just to see Pappy Sam’s gold?”

Her cousin lifted a hand to squeeze her shoulder reassuringly.  “It’s not the gold; it’s the good lookin’ woman talkin’ about it.”

Now aren’t you glad you kept up with “Cassidy’s” makeup since you went back to bein’ Glory?

Yes, she was.  Not that she’d ever had problems with self-confidence, but the cosmetics gave her a little extra edge and silently reaffirmed that she could be anyone she wanted to be – nurse practitioner, bartender, or a professional musician.  Even if she’d gone with hair color that only had a tint of the previous copper shade, “Cassidy” was still fearlessly alive and well within her.

Another thing that was alive and well was the Cassidy family.  Uncle Stanley had his issues but Gerald Ray had made a monumental effort to mend the rift between the cousins that had developed over the years and she was thankful. 

Grinning up at him, she playfully teased, “You’re a whole lot nicer to me since I handed over Papaw’s shotgun.”

“Easier to be nice when you’re not burnin’ shit down.”  He softened the droll observation with a wink, and she couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Whatever.  Have you seen Libby and the boys?”

“The boys are lookin’ at ‘old guns’.” He pointed toward the exhibit hall on their left but the thick crowd and her diminutive height prevented Cassidy from actually seeing them, and she would have to take his word for it.  “Their mama’s outside.  Ran into her about ten minutes ago and she said somethin’ about needin’ air.”

Her sister had been fighting a cold the last couple of days and she worried that it had taken a turn for the worse.  “I better go check-“

“No.”  Gerald Ray’s massive hands curled around her biceps so that he could turn her toward one of the staircases.  “She’ll be fine and it looks like they’re almost ready for you.  Why don’t you get on up there?”

Kelley Brett, the curator who put together the exhibit, was nodding in her direction and Cassidy acknowledged that her cousin was right.  It was time to make her way up to the microphoned podium positioned on the landing that joined the two curved staircases.  “Go see about Libby, please.  And both of you get yourselves front and center to show a little support.  I’m gonna need to know if I make an ass of myself.”

Inhaling deeply, she began threading her way through the throng of people.  The tapping of her strappy black stilettos against the tile was muted by the buzz of a hundred simultaneous conversations, and the underlying energy found its way into Cassidy’s nervous system, igniting a spark of nervousness.  Slowing her ascent of the wide staircase, she sought the familiar comfort that always held the power to soothe her nerves. 

Good evenin’, Lord.  I’ve been tryin’ real hard not to bother You so much lately, but I’ve got a little bit of a trivial request.  Could You help me not look like a ninny in front of these Yankees?  I’d surely appreciate it.  In Jesus’s name, Amen.

Discreetly exhaling through her smile, she approached Kelley with an extended hand.  The other woman warmly returned her grip and pleasantly inquired, “Are you ready?”

“I believe so.”

Libby had tried to convince her to prepare some prompting notecards, but Cassidy had believed her hands would be shaking too badly to read them.  With her mind now completely blank, she regretted that decision and it was all she could do to keep her smile pinned in place as she came to stand behind the curator and demurely fold her hands in front of her. 

Lord, my request isn’t seemin’ quite so trivial anymore.  There’s a lot of folks out there.

Scanning the crowd, she found that Gerald Ray was right where she’d left him.  It didn’t appear as though he’d heeded her request to check on Libby, because she didn’t see her sister anywhere in the crowd as Kelley stepped up to the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for joining us here this evening.  About a year ago, I received a call from Mrs. Orfamay Cassidy.  Mrs. Cassidy told me that she had something in her possession that the museum would find of interest but that she wasn’t quite ready to give it up yet.  The final decision to do so was being left up to her granddaughter.  At Mrs. Cassidy’s request, I sent her my business card, unsure whether I would ever hear anything else about this mysterious piece of interest.

“Several months went by, but I did eventually hear more about it.  I received another phone call, this time from Mrs. Cassidy’s granddaughter, indicating that she would like to make the donation on behalf of her recently deceased grandmother. 

“I have to tell you that I thrilled once I found out what the Cassidys had to share.  That ‘something of interest’ represents what historians and scholars alike have been in search of for the past one hundred and fifty years.  As curator for the National Civil War Museum, I’ve done my fair share of searching, never dreaming that this particular historical treasure would appear, unsolicited, on our doorstep. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, thanks to the generosity of the Cassidy family, we are privileged to be able to share with you the lost Confederate gold and the full story behind it.  Please join me in thanking and welcoming Glory Cassidy.”

Cassidy accepted a hug from the curator and stepped up to the podium with a smile that was wide enough to mask her nerves.  She would feel better if Libby were present and accounted for. 

“Thank y’all.  The story of the gold has been part of my family history for as long as I can remember, and the museum has done a beautiful job tellin’ it in their exhibit.  There’s no need for me to rehash it here.  I’d much rather share a bit about our family.

“The Cassidys are patriots.  There has been a member of our family in every war since the one that is responsible for my bein’ here this evenin’.  My father, who was taken from us many years ago, served in the Vietnam War, and I’m willing to say there was no man who had greater pride in his country and heritage.  His daughters were named to represent both – Glory Star, to commemorate the flags of the United States and the South, and Liberty Belle to represent Lady Liberty and, as Daddy always said, her desire to be a Southern belle.”

Laughter tittered throughout the room and, as she smiled into the faces of several patrons, Cassidy caught sight of a familiar strawberry-blonde head at the back of the room.  After taking a quick inventory of her sister’s facial features and countenance, Cassidy realized that Gerald Ray had been right – Libby was fine.  Libby was also animatedly pointing to her left, and Cassidy’s gaze shifted to see why.

When she did, her face split into a grin – a big one.  Huge, in fact.  There may have never been another grin of her life that this wide and buoyant because, standing next to her conspiring little sister was David Bryan, flashing a big thumbs-up and giving her an encouraging nod.  She had told him about the event a couple of months ago and was pleased to see that he had come, but it wasn’t him that prompted the trilling of her heart. 

It was the man beside him, so casually propped against the back wall, and looking like the best thing she’d seen in five months and two weeks, that had her clutching the podium with exhilaration.

Those clutching fingers itched to tidy the messy mop of hair that had gotten a little too long.  Her arms longed to slide under his black sport coat and wrap around his torso as lovingly as the gray silk shirt he wore.  Her lips craved the soft rush of his heated breath.   

And he… wanted to eat? 

Jon was moving his open hand from his chest to his mouth in a repetitive motion that looked an awful like someone feeding himself.  It wasn’t until she registered the eerie quiet of the room that she understood he was telling her to get on with it.  

“Oops,” she said, leaning into the podium and allowing the grin relax just enough to be able to speak.  “Sorry about that.  I just caught sight of a couple long-lost friends in the crowd and my thoughts got interrupted.  As I was sayin’…  Our family is proud to serve and proud of our history.  Passing along our legacy is the ultimate display of that pride.  We’re pleased and honored to be a part of the patchwork of America’s history and to share our little corner of the quilt with y’all.  Thank you.”

God, she looked good, Jon thought as she attempted to extract herself from the museum staff and angle toward the stairs.  The hair was a lighter shade of red and now long enough to sit well below her shoulders, but everything else was just the same – right down to the warmth of the smile caressing a spot deep inside him that only she could reach.

There were times he had questioned himself during their forced separation.  Late at night, he almost convinced himself that he’d simply needed someone when she came along and, as a result, had elevated her to some kind of savior in his mind. 

The impact of that smile told him he hadn’t imagined shit.

Now he could sing “Life is Beautiful” and truly mean it. 

The divorce had been ugly, although not as bad as it could’ve been.  His video evidence had gone a long way toward maintaining equity in the distribution of their marital assets.  Not that Dorothea had forced him to use it, but it was evident that she knew it was looming in the wings.  She pushed him in the settlement and he let her for the most part, but when he put his foot down on something, she had immediately conceded.

The worst part had been the kids.  Having never seen mom and dad fighting or at odds with one another, it was a hard pill for them to swallow – especially the oldest two, who weren’t currently speaking to him.  He and Dorothea hadn’t laid any blame, simply telling their offspring that mom and dad were growing in different directions and should be free to do that.  Despite the disclaimer, Jesse and Steph automatically assumed Jon was at fault, letting him know it in no uncertain terms. 

They would come around sooner or later.  He hoped so, because he thought there would come a day when he wanted them to meet Cassidy. 

He was proud of her.  Talking to her for only a grand total of ten minutes during the last months had been a bitch, but he managed to keep up with her through his friends.  John Shanks had nothing but praise for her voice and work ethic and willingness to learn anything and everything.  Obie was pushing him again to include her in the band.  Dave spoke to her once in a while and would share whatever he found out, including her admission to a doctorate program and this event tonight. 

He’d even talked to Libby a time or two, repeatedly being told that she wished he’d hurry up because she was tired of her sister being a bartender.  When he’d called to ask what time to be here this evening, she’d gone from annoyed with him to thrilled, particularly since Cassidy hadn’t been expecting him for another couple of days.

In the normal scope of his travel life, he shouldn’t be home and fully functioning for at least another couple of days, but he busted his ass to get back into the country and to Harrisburg.  This was a big milestone in her life and Jon hadn’t wanted to miss it.

Arms crossed as he continued to lounge against the wall with David and Libby, he smirked at the dainty little bombshell threading her way through person after person who had “just one question” for her.  When she was within ten feet of him, she finally stopped answering them and politely excused herself to continue on her way.

“Hi,” she drawled breathlessly once she reached them.

“Dixie Chick,” David greeted and swooped in for a hug.  “You almost blew it up there, but you saved your ass with that goddamn blinding smile of yours and supplementary Southern sweetness.  The only other chance you had was bringing your gorgeous sister up there beside you.  The room would’ve been awed at such combined beauty.”

Libby batted her eyes and twittered like a school girl, obviously unfamiliar with Dave’s smooth operator persona.

“Libby, don’t flirt with him,” Cassidy ordered flatly, never breaking eye-contact with Jon.  “He’s crazy, a bullshitter and married.  Be friendly but not flirty.”

“Damn,” he groaned.  “You’re harsh.  And just when I was going to say I can’t remember ever meeting a more breathtakingly lovely pair of sisters.”

One corner of Jon’s mouth tipped up with amusement at the antics that were as familiar to him as his kids’ names.  Following Cassidy’s lead, he didn’t look away from her when he supplied, “You used the same line on sisters in Vancouver, Philly, Seattle and…  Stockholm, I think.”

“Well, motherfucker,” the curly-headed man grumbled, grabbing Libby by the elbow.  “Let’s go someplace and chat, shall we?  Before these two convince you that I’m going to steal your soul or some such shit.”

The pair of them shuffled off, leaving Jon and Cassidy relatively alone at the edge of the museum crowd, where they remained fixated on one another.

“You here lookin’ for your sanity, baby doll?”

That was another thing he’d taken care of that during the last few months.  Madaline had ended up being pretty good at getting inside his head and devising a way to help him put order to the fucked up mess that resided there.  The result was that he had better coping mechanisms and shouldn’t shut down again in the face of overwhelming emotions.

“No,” he told her quietly, instantly noting the slight cloud of confusion that muddied clear blue irises.

“Then what brings you here?”

Nothing other than his obstinate determination could have kept him from uncrossing his arms and folding her into them, but he had an agenda to fulfill. 

All things in due time.  After this never-ending separation, it feels good to just see her and talk to her.

“You.”

“Okay,” she breathed, bringing one hand up to the area exposed by the v-neckline of her dress.  “We’ve established that the brevity still does it for me.  Now elaborate.  Why didn’t you buy the team?”

Not quite ready to divulge that, he nodded toward her wrist, pleased to observe, “You’re wearing one of the bracelets.”

“Both of them.”  She brought the other wrist up for him to see and her arms fell to cross at her waist, aping his casual stance.  “I always do.  Now could you please answer the question?”

With the unexpected visceral reaction in response to her revelation, he really thought about waiting to tell her what she wanted to know.  It was old news to him and would be better told in bed – after they’d spent a day or two rediscovering one another’s bodies.  Regrettably, he could see the stubborn glint in her eye and the corresponding tilt of her chin.  Stubborn O’Hara wasn’t going to let it go without an answer. 

“I wanted you more than a football team.  Without you, it wasn’t worth having.”

“I…”  Beautiful bowed lips parted without further sound and he took it as a good thing that she’d been rendered speechless.  That was an appropriate response to a quasi-romantic confession, wasn’t it?  He’d never known how those things worked.

“Excuse me.”  They both turned their heads to find that a thirty-ish man was barging into their party of two and, according to the badge on his shirt, he was a member of the press.  “I’m Eric Cavanaugh with the Patriot News.  I couldn’t help but notice you back here, Mr. Bon Jovi and was surprised to see that you’re interested in Civil War artifacts.  I’ve never heard that about you before.”

Smothering a sigh, Jon wished for anonymity that he’d never get. 

You still want a football team someday.  If people like you, they’ll pay money to see you and buy your shit, so smile and play nice.

“I can’t say that I have an overt interest in the Civil War, although I do enjoy history.”

“Then what brings you here tonight, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Nodding toward Cassidy, whose unfocused eyes clearly told that she was still thinking about what he’d just said, Jon disclosed, “I met Ms. Cassidy and her sister a few months ago and we became friends.  They invited me.”

“Didn’t you just have a new album release?” Eric prodded.

When he finally got the chance to do what he came here to do, Jon was going to hightail it out of here with his beautiful… Cassidy in tow.  They were going to spend a long night making love and plans, and he didn’t intend to leave her for at least a week.  Glancing down at the watch on his still-crossed arms, he mentally gave the guy thirty more seconds.

“We did, actually, about six weeks ago, on August fifteenth.”  His eyes lit on Cassidy, knowing how small the gesture had been as far as birthday gifts went, but hoping she appreciated it.  He didn’t orchestrate his business around anyone else for any reason and this time he had.  For her.  “It was released as a fan album, meaning we aren’t going to do a world tour.  We’ll save that for the upcoming album coming out next year.  Thanks so much for asking, but Ms. Cassidy and I have some things to catch up on.”

“Uh, sure.  Thank you.”

Thank God Eric hadn’t been the piranha variety reporter.  He’d responded quite nicely to the subtle brush-off and now Jon returned his undivided attention to the woman before him.  It was time to get on with the agenda.

“So, uh,” he broached casually.  “I have this thing in New York tomorrow night.”

“Okay.  What kind of thing is it?”

The slow, squinting nod of her head made it obvious that she assumed he was only passing through town.  Hello and goodbye.

She was wrong.

“It’s the kind of thing I need a date for.  You wanna go with me?”

Eyes that had been little more than slits slowly widened and then went glassy while her teeth sank into her bottom lip. 

Now she got it.

“In the interest of there being no misunderstanding,” she murmured, licking the spot she’d just bitten.  “You’re asking me on a date?  Out in public?”

He smiled at how damn cute she was. “Yes.”

“And I don’t have to act like we’re business acquaintances?”

His smile went a little wider.  “No.”

“Do I have to act like that now?”

He could feel the corner of his eyes crinkling with mirth at her sassy impatience.  “No.”

“Well, hell’s bells,” she drawled with a delicate huff and tugged at his forearm.  “Then give me a damn hug already.”

Letting out a full belly laugh, Jon opened his arms and finally – finally – swept her inside his embrace.  He buried his face in the crook of her neck and selfishly let Cassidy’s happiness fill him the way it had since that very first day.  There was nothing on earth like this feeling and he wanted to hang onto it.

Maybe forever.

God, I don’t know what you and her talk about and I don’t need to.  She seems to put a lot of faith in your little conversations, though, so I’d like to bum a ride on her coattails and ask a favor.  Don’t let me forget to do as much for her as she does for me, would ya?  I’ve been without her long enough.  I don't want to give her a reason to leave me now.  Thanks.  In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit...

The End