Chapter Thirty-Eight

Matt felt Jesse’s slow, rhythmic breathing. He lay next to her, reveling in the comfort of her slender body. He raised himself to see the small clock next to her bed. It was almost five thirty. The candles had died while they slept, and the sun wouldn’t be up for another hour.

Laying there in the dark, Matt wanted to shout. He’d spent the night making love to the most extraordinary woman, had an exciting new career, and the most wonderful family a man could ask for. He could see them married with a family. A smile crept across his face as he envisioned a pregnant Jesse, two beautiful children in tow, coming down the stairs on Sunday morning as they headed to church.

But watching her, Matt wondered if his scene was one Jesse would choose. He lay back, staring at the ceiling as the first hint of dawn filtered into her room. Was the role of wife and mother Jesse’s fantasy or his? He kept thinking about Donna’s question: “What do you really know about Jesse?” The answer always came back, “Nothing.” And she was so guarded. Her life revolved around the Conservatory and her family. Whenever he asked her about Portland, she got defensive or changed the subject.

She turned, reaching for him in her sleep. As he watched her thick, lustrous hair cascade across her face, he put his doubts on hold. Of course he had questions but they could wait. Matt realized he hadn’t heard her good news, but she’d tell him later, when they re-lived their amazing night. They had all the time in the world.

He checked the time again. 5:50. Damn, he thought, remembering his nine a.m. appointment with Stephanie. As adroitly as possible, he slipped from under Jesse’s arm and retrieved his clothes. She smiled in her sleep, letting out a soft moan. Matt hoped she was dreaming about their night together. He’d barely slept, but he’d never felt so alive.

Seeing a notebook on her dresser, he decided to write something clever. Picking it up, he saw the back cover was blank. He sat down in the chair next to her bed and began to write—telling her how much he loved her, apologizing for his story about Gretchen and asking her to come meet his friends that night. He finished and got up, touching the thick black hair that covered her pillow in unruly waves. He bent and kissed her cheek.

He walked to the door, propping the notebook on the dresser so she couldn’t miss it. But as he opened the door, Jesse stirred, calling his name in her sleep. He turned. As he did his jacket knocked the notebook on the floor. As he picked it up, he turned it over and saw it wasn’t a notebook at all. It was a music folio. Matt saw the name on the cover: Webb Productions—the name of the man who’d forced his way into Jesse’s dressing room at the recital. The man who could do magical things for her career Stephanie told him.

He recognized the name on the cover: Gates of Paradise, the name of Webb’s new production. Jesse laughed about Webb’s visit, saying he just wanted to give her encouragement. But as he put the music on her dresser, a sick, hollow feeling knotted his stomach. A piece of paper had fallen from the music folio. It was a plane ticket from New York City.

A big surprise. Something wonderful, she’d said. Yes, it was something wonderful—for her, not for them. He turned, feeling sick as his dreams were suddenly wrenched away. Jesse slept on peacefully. She was leaving, just like Gretchen had. But Jesse had lied. She’d had every chance to tell him about this, but kept it a secret. It was the biggest thing in her life, and she hadn’t trusted him enough to share it. What was she afraid of? He wondered what other secrets she’d kept hidden. What he did know was that she didn’t have enough faith in him to be honest about this opportunity. “What do you really know about Jesse?” The question echoed again as he searched the room for answers. He wanted to wake her up, shake her, and confront her, but that would serve no purpose. She’d only tell him another lie. How could he have been so wrong? Matt picked up the music, ripped off his note and stuffed it in his pocket, scribbling another on the cover:

Jesse,

Seeing this, I now know what your wonderful news is. I hope it’s a big part, something worthy of your talent. After hearing my story last night, you understand that I’ve been here before. I wish you’d been honest with me.

Good luck,

Matt

He left the music with his note on the bed, looked at her once more and went out the door, feeling sick. Matt reached the bottom of the stairs and headed for Mass Avenue. He had to go home and clean up for his meeting with Stephanie.

****

Jesse sat on the edge of the bed, biting her nails. The clock said seven forty-five a.m. She let the phone ring. C’mon, Matthew, pick up. She had to talk to him. Where could he be at this hour on a Saturday morning?

Frustrated, she hung up. Jesse had to think. She should have been honest with him, told him about the tryout; she knew that now. As she sat looking down at his note, she came to a sad realization. The fame, the money, and everything that went with it meant nothing without him. Damn her selfishness and ambition. Why did this have to happen before I realized what I really wanted? she asked herself, hoping desperately it wasn’t too late.

She grabbed some clothes and burst out of her bedroom, past a sleeping Alexis and into the bathroom. Emerging five minutes later, Jesse made too much noise. Alexis asked where she was going.

“I have something important to do, honey.” She ran over to kiss Alexis. “Tell Grandma I’ll call.” She did her best to smile as she rushed out the door, down the stairs and onto West Springfield Street.

She ran the two blocks to Mass Avenue, searching the busy street for a taxi. She hailed one and jumped in. “Take me to the corner of West Broadway and M Street in South Boston,” Jesse said curtly.

The driver nodded, smiling as he eyed her in the mirror. “Will do, honey.” He made a U-turn and headed south.

Moments later, Jesse threw a ten-dollar bill on the seat as she left the cab, heading for the Sullivan house. It was 8:35. She ran up the stairs and rang the bell. Someone moved inside. The door opened slowly. Her heart sank. It was Matt’s father, smiling and inviting her in.

“Hello, Jesse,” he said casually, unaware of her desperation. Jesse peered behind him, searching for some sign of Matt.

“Hi, is Matt here? It’s really important I talk to him.”

“No, ’fraid not.” He turned and looked toward his son’s bedroom. “He must have left while I was out for my walk.” He went to the dining room table. Since she’d sat there for Thanksgiving dinner two days ago, so much had changed. “He left a note saying he has an appointment with his agent at nine.”

“Thanks,” Jesse said as she ran out the door. “Oh,” she yelled back inside, “if he comes back, please tell him that I came by…and tell him I have to talk to him.”

He yelled something after her, but she was gone, running down the stairs, heading for Broadway to hail another taxi.

She had to see him.

****

“Jesse, I’m glad to see you.” John invited her to sit down. “There’s been some serious fallout about the recital the other night, but I’m sure we can weather the—”

“I’m sorry, John. But I didn’t come to talk about the recital. I came to say good-bye.”

Her mentor looked up, eyes fixed on her. “I beg your pardon,” he stammered. “Did I hear you correctly?” He paused. “I know how hard you’ve been working. If this is about money, I may be able to work something out. I have some savings and rather than lose someone with your talent…”

A wave of sadness covered her. John was such a good man. He’d helped her through the endless struggle that had been her life. Jesse vowed she’d never forget him.

“That’s very kind, John, but it’s not about money. It’s about opportunity.”

She related the events since the recital on Tuesday.

“I have nothing against Broadway or musical theater,” he began, “but you know that if you leave here and begin that kind of work schedule your voice will never reach its full potential.”

She avoided his eyes. “I know the risks, but I can’t afford to pass up this chance.”

He stood, taking her gently in his arms as he gave her a kiss on the cheek. He backed away and held out his hand. Jesse took it. “Good luck, Jessica. I hope they know what they’re getting.”

“Thank you for everything,” she said, as tears covered her cheeks. “You’ve been a teacher and a friend, John…” Her voice failed her.

“The feeling is mutual.” He hugged her again. “I’ll expect to be reading about you. What’s the name of your show?”

“Gates of Paradise. It’s a musical about the Mormon Church.”

“Well, if Lawrence Webb is producing it and you’re going to have the lead, it can’t miss.”

Jesse headed for the door. Turning, she looked one last time at the man who’d changed her life.

John raised his hand offering her the theatrical wish for good luck. “Break a leg, Jessica.”

She shut the door behind her, choking, as the tears streamed down her face. She ran down the stairs, stopping to tap the statue of Beethoven one last time as she went outside. She ran onto Huntington Avenue to get another cab.