BACK WITH YOU
Chapter Twelve

Dinner turned out wonderful and Jessamyn was shocked at how much she was enjoying herself. Charlie acted shy and reserved around people he didn't know sometimes, but when they were sitting together in the back of the restaurant, she saw him open up and she was reminded of why she had become his friend in the first place. She hadn't laughed so hard as she had when he told her about the time he was at his grandmother's old plantation and during a game of reenacting the Civil War with some cousins--in the house, no less--had accidentally blown a hole in a toilet and managed to talk his way out of it by saying he dropped something. Jessamyn thought she had mastered the art of getting out of things; obviously she had been proved wrong.

They had eaten Cajun food, which Charlie had deemed not as good as in New Orleans, but it was all right. Jessamyn thought it was pretty good, but she decided that Charlie was probably right. If anyone should know about Cajun stuff, it was he.

Now Jessamyn sat on a bench bolted to the wooden boardwalk down by the pier. Charlie was off getting ice cream cones, so for the moment she was alone. It was getting to her favorite part of the day, when the sun began to set behind the horizon and painted a beautiful landscape of watercolors across the dimming sky. She had never seen sunsets as beautiful as the ones in California, and had once remarked so to Rose. But her mother had just given her a tiny smile and murmured a soft, "If only you knew."

Her legs were not long enough to reach the ground unless she was sitting on the edge of the bench and since she wasn't, she dangled them over the side and just let them hang there. It had finally started to warm up and feel like spring. Jessamyn was strangely happy about the fact that she could now wear sandals and show off her feet without them becoming cold. She was admiring them when Charlie came back and sat down beside her, draping his arm casually around the back of the bench after handing her a cone.

"Are you tired?" he asked after a minute.

Jessamyn, who had been yawning, managed to shake her head. "No, just...relaxed," she said happily. Her chocolate ice cream tasted so good that she wanted to be a pig and eat it quickly. Thankfully, she restrained herself and managed only to take little licks.

Neither really said much other than what had just corresponded between them. Jessamyn was wrapped up in her thoughts and Charlie was trying to think of some more questions to ask her. They had discussed everything from their school days to Jessamyn's recent realizations of what had happened to her mother and father. She hadn't told him everything, but Charlie got enough of the story to know that her parents had been through something horrible and then her father had died. Jessamyn seemed strangely reserved about the whole thing, like it was deeply affecting her, so he didn't press for any more information.

"Do you miss home...Maine, I mean?" Charlie finally asked softly.

Jessamyn turned slowly to look at him. Her smile disappeared and she sighed. "I don't know," she confessed. "I suppose I do, in some way. I guess I miss the familiarity, you know. I slept in the same bed, I ate dinner with the same people, I was in the same house for so many years. It's strange, even now, not having it all. But I'm getting used to life here. I feel more…" She paused for a moment to think. "…at home here with Rose. As much as I love the Calverts, she is my real family. It makes my life here more comfortable. I miss Maine less and less."

Charlie wondered if her attachment to Rose had anything to do with the tragedy surrounding the death of her father, but he kept his wonderings to himself. Instead, he casually pulled her closer to him, a way of showing her that he was there for her.

It was quiet again until Jessamyn perked up, seeing something on the beach. "Look at that!" she exclaimed excitedly.

Charlie followed her gaze. She was staring at someone galloping down the beach on a horse. There was a local guy who rented out the rides for about two dollars an hour. He was surprised Jessamyn didn't know about it yet. Knowing her, she probably would have sacrificed her week's pay for the chance to experience that thrill for longer than an hour.

"Oh, that just looks like so much fun."

"Yeah, it’s a favorite among tourists," Charlie explained. He'd lived there long enough to not consider himself a tourist now. "But I'll tell you what, it doesn't beat the long days on a horse in Texas."

"I thought you grew up in New Orleans," Jessamyn pointed out teasingly, poking him in the arm. And then, "Damn," as she watched her scoop of ice cream fall to the sand below.

Charlie started laughing as he took her empty cone. "Want another one?" he asked.

Jessamyn shook her head and licked the ice cream off of her fingers. "No, thank you."

He turned around and threw the cone away in a trashcan behind the bench. Then said, "I did grow up in New Orleans. But my uncle had a ranch over in Texas that my sister and I would spend summers on while my parents went to Europe or someplace. I had this one horse, Albert, and I used to take him out before dawn. We'd watch the sunrise over the desert. It was amazing. You could ride and ride for hours without running into another person."

"Sounds...romantic," Jessamyn gushed softly. "Cowboy," she added teasingly after a moment.

"Yeah, right, that's me," Charlie scoffed and then he started laughing.

Jessamyn laughed along with him. She was enjoying their little talk, not to mention his arm around her shoulders. She could have stayed there forever, and probably would have if Charlie had not suggested that they take a walk. He had long since finished his ice cream and was beginning to get restless, especially since the sunset was not so brilliant now. So she agreed and got up, slightly disappointed. But when he grabbed her hand in his, she didn't object and gladly grasped it back.

They hadn't gotten very far when Jessamyn felt Charlie tug her hand to the left and she unconsciously followed. She was kind of in a trance and didn't quite realize that they had stopped next to another bench.

"Hey, Mr. D! Where have you been lately?"

Charlie's greeting brought her out of the stupor and she was shocked to see whom he was talking to. It was none other than Mr. Jack, the man she had met on the train. How odd, she thought, that he was still here. And quite honestly, she had to admit she had forgotten about her seat partner. Assuming she would never see him again, she had let him drift out of her mind. But now he was here again.

Jack smiled, recognizing Jessamyn as well. He, unlike her, had not forgotten. Her presence was too overwhelming to forget. It was like a strange deja vu every time he thought of her. And he couldn't explain it. How weird that she knew Charlie. What a small world.

"Hey, Charlie," he finally responded. "And hello...Jessamyn, right?"

She nodded and gave him a little smile. "Nice to see you again, Mr. Jack."

Charlie was notably confused as he began to look from his date to Jack. "Do you two know each other?" he asked.

"We were on the same train coming down here," Jack explained as he stood up from his seat on the bench.

Jessamyn watched him get up and noticed he still was carrying that stupid leather sketchbook around. She had not forgotten the drawings that were inside it, the awful, depressing ones. But now when she thought of them she had a strange feeling come over her and held Charlie's hand tighter as a form of support.

"Have you been here the whole time?" she asked him, her voice surprisingly cold. She could feel Charlie turn and look at her.

Jack nodded, noticing the change in her demeanor. "Yeah," he answered. "I can't bring myself to leave just yet. I've rented out a house and got a job working part time in a gallery."

"Are you still drawing?" Jessamyn blurted out the question, forgetting that he didn't know that she knew about the sketches.

"Yeah," Jack said softly, and then he changed the subject by asking Charlie about school. He answered and they started up a conversation without Jessamyn, which was fine with her. Her mind kept fixating on that one haunting picture of the woman standing on what appeared to be an upper deck of a ship, as if the artist were watching her from above. Even now, she could remember it pretty clearly; it reminded her of someone. But she couldn't think of whom. It was only when she heard Charlie say that they had better get going that she was brought back into reality. It was dark and she wondered how long they had been standing there. Politely, she said good-bye to Jack and then let Charlie guide her down the boardwalk once again.

When they were almost to the car, Jessamyn remembered something. "Charlie?" she asked softly.

"Mmm hmm?" was his only response. He sounded tired, but that didn't stop her from asking the next question.

"Why did you call him Mr. D?"

"Because of his last name."

"Which is..."

Charlie stopped walking and dropped her hand. "Dawson," he answered softly. "I thought you knew each other," he pointed out. "Wait, he is related to your mom?"

Jessamyn didn't even hear his last question; her mind was off and running again. Jack Dawson? The drawings are what did it for her as a tiny light bulb came on in her head. But there was no way he was he same man...right? Rose had said her father had died. She had quite emotionally described his death. Jessamyn had watched her cry talking about it. Was Rose lying? She thought about it for a minute and no, she didn't think her mother would do that. There had to be more than one Jack Dawson in the world, she decided. That could be the only answer: it was simply a coincidence. Unless...

Jessamyn turned around, ignoring Charlie's worried words, and looked toward where Jack had been. His eyes were awfully familiar, and she did have that strange feeling, like she knew him or something. Was that man her father?

"Jessamyn?"

Charlie's voice finally came through the mist in her mind and she shook her head in an attempt to bring herself back to reality.

"Are you all right?" he asked in concern.

Jessamyn linked her arm through his and smiled. "Yeah," she said softly. "I just was thinking of something."

He grinned at her. "Wanna take a drive?" he asked as they started walking again. "I don't need the car back for a while."

She nodded. "Sure, Charlie." She couldn't shake the thoughts of Jack, though. They stayed with her throughout the drive through the countryside and when Charlie finally took her home. Even when he kissed her, she felt disconnected from him. All she could imagine was her mother lying to her, making up the whole story. It was sick and twisted if it was indeed false and Jessamyn was about to go talk to her, but Rose was asleep. So she just went into her room and lay down. She wanted desperately to believe that it was just a big misunderstanding. But the coincidences were just too...odd, beyond normal ones, at least. She couldn't very well ignore them. There had to be some explanation. There was no way this Jack Dawson was Rose's Jack. It couldn't be.

Jessamyn finally fell asleep after racking her brain for several hours. She was going to have to do some serious research, or else have a very heated discussion with Rose. But somehow she knew things were about to change, one way or another.

Chapter Thirteen
Stories