BACK WITH YOU
Chapter Two
The next morning was spent, for the most
part, at Grand Central Station. Having lived in Maine all her life, and hardly
getting out much, Jessamyn had never been to New York. Well, never been to New
York that she could remember. She had been there as a little baby, she now
knew, and that kind of made her proud. She could happily say she had been born
in New York. None of her friends back home could say the same.
As passengers boarded and got off the train,
she watched, straining to get a glimpse of the famous skyline. Not having any
luck, though, she soon gave up and focused on scaring people away from her area
on the train. She sort of wanted to be by herself a while longer, to think
about recent developments. Not being able to afford the first class ticket, she
had to resort to third class. And third class on this train was nothing more
than a seat amongst about fifty other seats. You did get your own blanket and
light, though. And at least you could get up and move around if you wished to.
They were just getting ready to leave the
station when Jessamyn, deep in her book, felt someone approach her. She looked
up, worried, and saw a man carrying a bunch of luggage. Looking around, she saw
that there were no other seats.
"Damn it," she swore under her
breath, putting a piece of paper inside the book and the closing it up. She
looked up at the man and raised her eyebrow.
"Mind if sit here? Every thing else is
pretty much full," he explained, seeing her uninviting look.
She gave up the idea of having an area to
herself and nodded. He grinned and sat down, plopping a leather portfolio and
backpack at his feet.
Jessamyn turned toward the window as the
train started to move, trying not to focus on the person next to her. How on earth
was she going to get to sleep with him right there? And how was she supposed to
look over the things from Rose again? Everything, especially the necklace,
would raise questions. She sighed, and then glanced back at him once and found
him staring off into space, his mind obviously elsewhere. How odd, she thought.
He looked as if he were in sort of the same place as she was.
But, odd or not, an hour later Jessamyn was
getting bored. She had just finished her book, was out of space in her writing
notebook, and didn't want to pull her treasures out. So, she decided to make
small talk with him. Her only hope was that he was getting off soon and that
she would be alone again.
"So, where ya headed, mister?"
He turned toward Jessamyn and smiled
slightly. "Santa Monica," he answered softy, before turning back to
the way he was before.
Damn it. He is going to Santa Monica, too, Jessamyn thought. I am stuck with him for another
few days. She looked at him for a moment; he wasn't bad looking. Then
again, he had to be in his late thirties. He had blond hair, with a hint of
gray painted here and there. It was a bit too long and hung in his face, so
that he had to brush it away every few minutes. His eyes were a piercing, yet
tired, blue, that brought his whole look together. Actually, the blue eyes
reminded Jessamyn of some other eyes she had seen. She just couldn't figure out
where from.
"What about you?" His question
broke through her thoughts a few minutes later.
"Ah...I'm going to Santa Monica,
too," Jessamyn answered, smiling a bit at him.
"Visiting family?" the man asked,
shocking Jessamyn with his question. She didn't really know how to answer. She
supposed she was, but then again, Rose didn't know it.
"Ah...sort of," Jessamyn finally
said. And then, before she knew what she was doing, she felt herself explaining
what was going on to this complete stranger. "I am actually looking for my
mother. I was given up for adoption when I was just a month old, and, to make a
long story short, I just found out and now I want to find my birth mom."
The man cocked his head to one side and
looked at Jessamyn for a moment. She reminded him of someone. He just couldn't
place it. She couldn't be much older than eighteen, he decided, and yet he felt
like he knew her from somewhere. But the fact that he had been secluded from
the rest of the human race for the last seventeen years reminded him that he
couldn't possible have met her before, and he gave up searching his brain.
Finally, he spoke again. "That must be tough," he offered sympathetically.
"Yeah...well," Jessamyn stuttered,
trying not to think about it too much. The whole reason she was talking to this
man was to get her mind off of the whole ordeal. "What about you, sir? Are
you visiting family?"
Clouds filled in the man's eyes and a look of
sorrow swept over his face. Just for a moment, though. Within a moment, the
look was gone. Then he just looked at her and smiled. "No." He
sighed. "Just chasing old dreams and memories."
Jessamyn nodded, having enough sense not to
press the subject any further, even though she was intrigued deeply. "So,
are you from New York, then?" she asked, changing the subject a bit.
"Yeah," the man answered. "But
I don't get out much. I'm not really into the whole social thing anymore."
He ran his hands through his blond hair and sighed heavily. "I couldn't
really tell you much about the city. Sorry."
"That's all right. You don't need to
apologize," Jessamyn said, laughing a little. "So, what are you? An
artist?" she asked, pressing for more details about this mystery man. She
picked up his portfolio and was about to go through it when the man grabbed it
out of her hands.
"Do you always ask so many
questions?" he asked, sounding a little annoyed, although he was smiling
as he put the portfolio on the other side of his seat.
Jessamyn raised her eyebrow. She was even
more curious as to what was in that portfolio now. It must be a big secret if
he grabbed it out of her hands like that. Finally, she just shrugged.
"Yes."
The man looked at her, and then smiled again.
She looked so innocent and naive, yet he could tell there was a fire inside of
her. That gift of seeing people's characters had never left him. Maybe it was
the hair and that smile. God, did she reminded him of someone! If only he could
place it. "Yes, I am an artist," he said, after a minute.
"Is that what you do for a living?"
The man nodded. "Sort of," he
answered. "I go out once a week, sell my drawings, go to the grocery
store, and then come back home. It may not be the best way to live, but I like
it."
Jessamyn smiled. "I was looking to be a
journalist myself; all signed up for college in Boston. I graduated high school
last year. I skipped second grade," she explained, seeing his confused
look. She didn't look like she had just graduated high school, and she knew
that. "I was just too damn smart for the whole bloody thing," she
said, making the man chuckle. Jessamyn smiled, and then sighed heavily.
"So, yeah, I finished early. But I don't know where that whole college
thing is going now," she said, shrugging her shoulders.
It was quiet for a minute. Jessamyn was lost
in thought, and the man was watching her. He was intrigued by this young woman,
and yet he still could not place why. It was bugging him terribly. He just
could not shake the feeling that he knew her from someplace. And if he wasn't
so damn sure he did not in fact know her, he would have given up. But it just
wasn't that easy.
"You got a name?" he finally asked.
"Jessamyn Rose Calvert--well, to tell
the truth, I don't really know what my last name is anymore, sir."
He nodded knowingly. "That's a very
pretty name, Jessamyn. I've never heard it before," he stammered, trying
to ignore the fact that her middle name was Rose. Just hearing that word sent
chills up and down his whole body. And now he felt even odder about this young
woman, for some reason. He began to break out in a sweat, and his skin became
clammy.
"Yeah," she answered, oblivious to
the man's discomfort. "I've never met another Jessamyn in my life. I guess
I am blessed that way. Every girl in my class was Helen or Dorothy." She
paused for a minute. "What about you, mister. You got a name?" She
watched as a soft look passed over his face, and he shrugged.
"Jack," he answered, smiling at
her. "You can just call me Jack."