All A Heart Needs B&N (14 page)

"Kyle," Jessica interrupted. "Sean doesn't want to know about sharks."

"Actually, I'm learning a lot," he said.

"Do you know what the biggest shark in the world is?" Kyle asked.

"Is it the one with all the teeth?"

Kyle nodded. "Yep. It's the whale shark." He looked over at his brother. "Brandon drew a really good picture of a shark at school today. Let's show it to Uncle Sean."

Brandon didn't say anything, but when Kyle slid off his chair, Brandon followed.

"Brandon is a fantastic artist," Jessica said. "Have you seen his work?"

"I remember seeing a sketch from when he was kidnapped. He drew the restaurant where the kidnappers stopped."

"That's right," she said. "I forgot about that."

"It's a savant skill," Nicole said, as she brought the platter of chicken to the table. "Brandon has a photographic memory and the ability to recreate what he sees. It's how he relates to the world."

Brandon and Kyle returned to the room, and Kyle handed the picture across the table to Sean.

"Wow," he murmured, impressed. "This is great. Good job, Brandon."

Brandon stared down at the table in front of him.

"We saw a movie about sharks in school, and then Brandon drew that picture," Kyle said.

"I didn't realize Brandon and Kyle were in the same class," Sean said.

"Brandon is in a special education program, but since Kyle came to town, he's been sitting in the regular classroom for a few hours," Nicole explained. "So is everyone ready to eat?"

"I am," Kyle proclaimed loudly.

Jessica laughed and looked over at Sean. "My son is enthusiastic about everything. It's hard to be cynical around Kyle."

"Yeah," he said with a nod, wondering how old he'd been when he'd lost that joyful and hopeful spirit.

And then the answer came to him. He'd been eight. And he'd just lost his best friend.

"Do you want some salad?" Jessica asked, passing him the bowl.

"Absolutely." he said, pushing the past back where it belonged.

* * *

Jessica felt a little too happy, she thought, as Sean drove her and Kyle home from Nicole's house around seven-thirty. Dinner had been fun, and she'd enjoyed listening to Sean and Nicole's stories about growing up in the Callaway family. She'd liked their teasing interaction, and she'd been fascinated by their wonderful family adventures. She'd also enjoyed watching Kyle interact with Sean. The two seemed to have an instant rapport. Not that that was surprising. Both Kyle and Sean got along well with people.

That reminder drove the smile off of her face. Sean was a popular guy. She knew that first hand. She'd seen the women drooling over him at the club the other night. And
that
was his life. Not family dinners that started at six and involved children rambling on about sharks. Sean had been nice, kind, but this was not his life; it was hers. And she couldn't let herself start thinking that their two worlds could merge into one.

It just wasn't fair that this man had to be the one who touched her on both a physical and emotional level. She could handle the attraction if that's all it was. But she liked him, too. He was smart, funny and creative. And they connected through music. He was about the song, the melody, the lyrics, and she was about putting moves to the music, but in the end it was all about artistic expression. Travis had never known that side of her. She'd been a dancer when they'd met, but she'd given it up the second they got married.

As Sean had suggested, she had lost a little of herself in the marriage, but that had been her choice. It wasn't a choice she'd make again though. She knew herself better now. She was older, stronger, and more independent, less willing to let a man's life define her.

Of course she still had to define herself. Once she got Helen's house cleared out, she needed to focus on her next move, whatever that was going to be.

Sean pulled up in front of the house. "Do you want me to come in so you don't have to go in alone?"

She hesitated, knowing she would like nothing better than to keep the evening going. But at some point she was going to have to learn how to say no.

Before she could answer, Sean's phone buzzed.

He took it out of his pocket to read the text.

"Is that from Emma?" Jessica asked.

"No, it's from Tim; he's in my band. He wants me to meet him at a club in North Beach. There's a drummer he thinks I should hear."

Another reminder of Sean's real life. She'd be reading stories to her kid and in bed at ten, and he'd be drinking with friends at a club. They could not be more different. "You should go."

"I might."

"Why wouldn't you go? Isn't that what you do?"

He frowned at her tone. "Am I missing something?"

"No." She knew she was deliberately baiting him, just because she was annoyed and frustrated, and mostly angry with herself for wanting a man who was completely wrong for her in a lot of ways. It was just too damn bad he was good for her in so many other ways. "It's been a long day."

"Are you sure that's it?" He glanced toward the back seat. "Kyle is conked out back there if you're worried about him overhearing."

"There's nothing to overhear. You should meet your friend. I'll see you tomorrow."

"You know, Jess, I'd be the first to admit that I rarely know what women are thinking, but I can generally tell when they're pissed off at me."

She shook her head. "I'm not mad at you."

"Then who?"

"Myself."

"Why? What did you do?" he asked lightly.

"I started to like you."

"Then my friend called, and you remembered I was a musician," he said.

"We lead really different lives, and we both need to remember that."

"I haven't forgotten."

"Well, then you're doing better than me. I need to get Kyle inside and up to bed."

"You're still coming with me tomorrow, right?"

"I know I shouldn't, but yes, I'm still coming."

Relief flashed in his eyes. "Thank you. I'll try not to cross any lines, Jess."

She was going to try, too. She just didn't know if she'd be successful.

Tuesday morning Jessica got Kyle off to school and then gave herself a long talk about keeping things friendly with Sean but not getting any more personally involved with him. Today was about finding Lana, hopefully delivering Stacy's photo album, and maybe putting the old fire to rest. If they did all three, it would certainly be a good day. And if she refrained from kissing Sean, it would be even better. Not as much fun, but definitely better.

Sean arrived just before nine. She walked out to his van with two photo albums in her hands, the family album, and the one belonging to Stacy.

Sean met her on the sidewalk, his jaw stiffening as he looked at the pink album. "Maybe put that in the back," he suggested, pulling open the side door of the van.

As she put the albums on the seat, she noticed two sleeping bags tossed in the back. She hadn't remembered seeing them yesterday. "Are you going camping?"

"What?"

"The sleeping bags."

"Oh, no. Tim returned them to me last night. I usually keep them in the van in case I have to sleep in the car. He borrowed them a couple of weeks ago."

"And you need two bags?"

"It's warmer that way."

"Especially if someone, maybe a female, is in the other one," she suggested.

He gave her a long look. "You're right. It
is
warmer that way."

She frowned and then closed the door so she wouldn't have to think about Sean and some hot girl hooking up in a sleeping bag. She got into the passenger seat and buckled her seatbelt while Sean slid behind the wheel.

"Everything all right?" he asked.

"Sure, let's go."

They drove for at least ten minutes in total silence. It was not a comfortable quiet, at least not on her part. She was on edge. She'd been on edge since Sean had dropped her off the night before. Actually, she'd been on edge since Friday night when she'd kissed him for the first time.

"So," she began. "About the woman in the sleeping bag."

He shot her a wary look. "What are you talking about?"

"Your love life. I'm curious."

"What do you want to know?"

"Who was the woman in the sleeping bag?"

"Her name was Mary Lynn, and it was about six years ago, I think. Yeah. It was the summer we toured through Nashville. She was a country singer, beautiful voice, beautiful body."

"Did you love her?"

"No, but she was fun."

"Have you loved anyone? Have you had a serious girlfriend?"

"That's personal, isn't it?"

"Well, we've gotten rather personal, don't you think? Besides that, we're friends. Friends share. I've told you about Travis. Let's hear your story."

He didn't answer right away, his attention on the road as he changed lanes, then he said, "I was in love when I was nineteen. Her name was Shelby. She was an artist. We went out for about a year and a half. Then she had an opportunity to get into an art program in Paris. She wanted me to go with her, but I didn't have any money, and my band was here. We were just getting going and good things were happening."

"So she went to Paris."

He nodded. "And she fell in love with a French guy and never came back."

"Did she break your heart?"

"She definitely put a dent in it. But we were young. Who knows what would have happened if she'd stayed?"

"That was a long time ago, Sean. No one since then?"

"Not really. When I'm focused on my music, I'm not a good boyfriend, at least that's what I've been told," he said dryly. "And I can't say anyone is wrong. I do get tunnel vision when I'm writing a song or working on a melody. Everything else seems to fade away." He glanced her way again. "I just confirmed what you already think of musicians, right?"

"Yes, but I also understand your commitment to the song. When I was dancing a difficult piece, I'd get lost in the movement. I'd think I'd only been in the studio for fifteen minutes, and it was really two hours." She reflected on what else he'd said. "Maybe you just never met anyone who made you want to focus on them instead of the music."

"That's very possible. Or maybe no one like that exists."

"You don't really believe that, do you?"

"I might."

"How can you speak so cynically about love when your songs are filled with emotion? Your lyrics about love are powerful and deep and sometimes really raw."

"I write and sing about the fantasy, what people want to hear."

She shook her head in disbelief. "No way. Your songs are too personal. When you sing, it's like you're telling me a story that's important for me to hear and that I'll be changed forever after I hear it."

"That's really what you think when you listen to my music?" he asked, shooting her a thoughtful look.

"Yes, it is. I downloaded a couple of your songs, and I've listened to them a lot. My favorite is
Moonlight Girl
.
She walked out of the light and into my heart
," she quoted. "Those words don't come from a cynic. You want to know what I think?"

"Does it matter if I don't?"

"I think you put up a front, a wall of indifference. And that wall keeps everyone out. I don't know if you're afraid of getting hurt or what, but in your real life you're extremely guarded. In your songs, you're wide open." She saw his jaw tighten and thought she'd hit a nerve. "Maybe you need to find a way to merge those two."

"Or maybe I don't. I'm pretty happy with my life."

"How could you be when you don't let anyone in? You're building this incredible studio, and no one in your family knows about it. You let them think you're a loser when we both know that's not true."

"In my father's eyes, it is true."

"Your father has no idea who you really are. But that's not his fault, because you don't let him in."

"I don't know what you want me to say," he muttered.

"I just want you to be who you are. Be honest. Be upfront. Say what's on your mind and not what you think other people want to hear."

He gave her a sharp, challenging look. "Are you sure that's what you want me to do?"

A shiver ran down her spine. "I think so," she said, suddenly not so sure, because judging by the look in his eyes, he was about to tell her something she did not want to hear.

"Okay. Let's start with this. I want you, Jessica. I think you're smart, sexy and gorgeous, and I'd really like to take you to bed and spend a few weeks there. But I'm not good at relationships, and I've never made a long-term commitment to anyone or anything besides my music. That's not the guy you want, is it?"

She should definitely say no, that wasn't the guy she wanted, but she was a little hung up on the image of them in bed together. "No," she finally said. "That's not the guy I want."

"Okay then. We've both been honest. Are you happy now?"

She sighed. "No."

"Well, I don't know what more you want."

"I want to apologize," she said slowly. "I think I got a little carried away analyzing your life."

"You absolutely did," he agreed.

"I'm sorry."

A few moments passed, and then he said, "You weren't completely wrong though."

She wanted to ask which part she'd been right about, but she decided to leave well enough alone. "Do you mind if I turn on some music to get rid of the awkwardness that's now between us?"

He smiled. "More honesty. I like it. And I'd love some music."

* * *

An hour later they arrived in Carmel, a seaside town that catered to an upscale class of residents and tourists. The downtown area was filled with expensive antique shops, art galleries, clothing boutiques and restaurants. At the far edge of town was the famous Pebble Beach golf course where celebrities and pros gathered each year for a tournament. Jessica would have liked to look around, but they weren't here to sightsee. They were on a mission to get Lana's phone number and address from her sister, Connie Bristol.

Jessica had a feeling their mission was going to be a difficult one. The fact that Helen had not spoken to or seen her daughter-in-law or grandson in twenty years was very odd. There was more to that story than they knew.