Hearts of Jade (A Hidden Hearts Novel Book 3) Read online

  I shrug as I admit, “I was just trying to answer her questions the best that I could. In reality, I was just flying by the seat of my pants. I haven’t done anything with cars in a while. Even when I did work with the family, it didn’t come as naturally for me as it did for you guys.”

  My dad gives a chuckle, which causes him to cough and grab his ribs in pain. After he finally stops coughing, he just shakes his head. “I don’t think you remember your childhood very well. We used to call you ‘The Closer’ around here. You could talk almost anybody into almost anything. You were such a natural. People would believe every word that came out of your mouth. You could talk about the natural beauty of the line of a dashboard or the curve of a fender and people would hang on every word you said. We used to watch you in total wonder. It didn’t matter whether you were talking to men or women, young or old — you had them captivated.”

  “Why do I remember this completely differently? I remember you, Finn and Rowan talking about the new models of cars and feeling like it was a completely foreign language. You three would work in the garage and be able to communicate without speaking. I could never even sort out whether we were supposed to be using standard or metric tools. You guys lived and breathed the car business on a cellular level; I could never compete with that. The fact that I was nice to a few customers could never make up for the fact that the car business doesn’t really run in my blood like it does for you guys. On some level it almost feels like I’m an outsider. If I didn’t look so much like you, I’d almost think I was adopted.”

  “Bullshit! Who’s filling your head with all this garbage? Is it the Jade girl? You are so much like your mother, it’s scary. Have you heard your mother play the violin? She doesn’t even need music in front of her, she can hear it in her head. She hears all the parts of the music. Before she had you kids, they wanted her to play in one of those orchestra groups, but she was too shy to do that.”

  I throw my hands up in the air in frustration as I exclaim, “Why is this the first time I’ve ever heard this story?” I stand up and start pacing around the small cramped room. “Do you know what a difference this would’ve made for me as a teenager?”

  “I’m sorry, you didn’t seem to have any interest in real music; you just wanted to listen to all that god-awful stuff that sounded like it was coming from the bowels of Satan. Father O’Toole warned us that if we didn’t discourage you from pursuing that passion, we would be sitting in our living room doing an exorcism in a few years — that scared your grandmother so much that we were not even allowed to talk about your music in the house.”

  “That’s the reason you stopped all of Declan’s music lessons?” Finn asks incredulously. “Wasn’t half of Father O’Toole’s parish leadership asked to resign because of some inappropriate pictures involving children on the Internet? It seems to me they didn’t have a whole lot of room to be judging a little Nirvana

  I give Finn a little salute as I comment, “I had no idea that you even knew who I listened to. I’m impressed.”

  “I was busy during high school, not stupid,” Finn retorts. “Besides, you had some of the most beautiful girls in the whole school tripping all over themselves to get your attention. It was hard to ignore all that success.”

  I openly scoff at his assertion, “Okay, I know that isn’t true. I couldn’t even hold on to the girl I had, there was no one waiting in the wings. Everybody thought I was some overgrown beach bum who didn’t know how to surf. They were not interested in my nonexistent record deal or concert bookings.”

  “You didn’t see what went on behind the scenes; Rowan and I were forever fielding requests for your phone number. The longer and bushier your hair got, the more insistent those requests became,” Finn asserts.

  “Now I know you’re just messing with me because we went to private Catholic school and everyone used to hassle me for being out of uniform. They used to call me Jerry after the homeless dude from the Down and Out in Beverly Hills movies. Everybody thought it was degrading that I made extra money by singing on the street corners and at bus terminals. The closest I ever came to any respectability was when Mike and Amy decided to surprise everyone and get married and they asked me to sing at their wedding — remember that? They decided to get married at the beach and I took my guitar and got a little microphone system from a discount electronics store that went out of business and that was my big PA system.”

  “I do remember that,” Finn acknowledges. “People wouldn’t shut up about it. They thought it was really cool. There were people who told me that I should’ve filmed it for you and sent it in as an audition for American Idol.”

  “So explain this: if I was so respectable, why did everyone hate me so much? I was practically pushed out of town. Everywhere I went, everyone was talking about me. People would cross the street to avoid having to be near me. It wasn’t as if I was wearing pentagrams around everywhere.”

  Finn looks a little embarrassed as he confesses, “That probably has more to do with Shannon’s best friend, Marabella, than anything else.”

  “What about Marabella? I never did anything to her. I thought she was a nice girl.”

  “You might change your opinion when you know what she said about you,” Finn explains with a grimace.

  “Don’t stop now. You opened this can of worms,” I direct when Finn pauses to take a drink of coffee.

  Finn scrubs his hand down his face. “Remember, I’m only the messenger, okay? I wasn’t the one who said all this stuff.”

  “How bad could it be? I dated Shannon years ago. I barely knew Marabella.”

  My dad shuffles the cards as he advises, “As I recall, it was pretty bad. The police actually came and spoke to us, but you were away at camp during the time in question so you couldn’t have done what she said and they let the matter drop.”

  “What matter?” I probe. “I think I met Marabella maybe twice or three times. She had already moved away by the time Shannon and I started dating.”

  Finn leans forward in his chair and begins to explain, “It seems that Marabella was extremely loyal to her best friend. When you guys were feuding during your senior year, Marabella started a rumor that you had tried to sleep with her little sister who has Down Syndrome.”

  “What?” I bellow. “First of all, I didn’t even know Marabella had a sister. Second, I planned to marry Shannon so I only had eyes for her. She was my first love, I wasn’t looking to cheat on her with anyone, let alone with somebody I didn’t know. That’s just disgusting. Let me get this straight… Everyone thought this was true?” I question, struggling to wrap my brain around it all.

  My dad and Finn vigorously shake their heads in denial. “Of course not! We knew you weren’t capable of anything like that. It was all a smear campaign made up in the mind of some shallow, jealous young woman.”

  “I don’t understand why someone didn’t just tell me what was happening.”

  “Do you really not remember what it was like back then? You and Rowan were fighting like two wet cats in a burlap bag. There wasn’t a civil word to be had in the family. Your papa had just died and your grandma wasn’t doing much better. Claire was crying all the time. Gas prices were crazy high and no one was buying new cars. It was all I could do to try to hold the family together. You weren’t interested in talking to anybody, let alone hearing any explanations. If I could get you to come home and shower once every three or four days, it seemed to be a miracle. You showed up to school just enough to not get kicked out. It still amazes me that they gave you a diploma.”

  “It was a little awkward to be in school and see my little brother be all kissy-face with the girl I thought I was going to marry. All my friends disappeared and I thought it was because they sided with Rowan. Now that I know there was something more to it, it makes things so much clearer. Dammit, I wish someone would’ve leveled with me way back then,” I lament.

  “I’m afraid that I’m the one that needs to take the blame for that. Your mother wante
d to spell it all out for you, but you were so hell-bent to get out of town, that I was more than happy to let you go without telling you the whole story — I can see now that it wasn’t fair to you,” my dad admits, looking dejected and sad.

  His defeated expression makes me feel guilty. There is no proof it would’ve made a difference even if he had told me what was going on. I was more than just a little stubborn back in those days and chances are pretty good that I may not have even believed him. Even as I have that thought, a random memory pushes in. I glance over at Finn with a look of resignation. “Dad, you can stop beating yourself up. Finn did try to warn me and I blew him off. I didn’t want to believe that Shannon would turn on me like that, so I ignored anything that spelled the end of our relationship, even when it was flying right in my face. That’s part of the reason she was able to date Rowan right under my nose. I just refused to see it.”

  “It seems to be Shannon’s true gift in the world. Rowan refused to see what was going on too. Right up until she left him for someone else,” my dad observes dryly.

  “That’s just sad. When we were kids, she used to be a really decent human being with a kind heart. I wonder what happened?” I muse.

  Finn rolls his eyes as he remarks, “At this point I don’t know and I don’t care. She has sewn enough destruction in the lives of my brothers; I hope Karma bites her good and hard in the ass.”

  Finn’s uncharacteristic remark prompts me to laugh out loud. “Nothing like family to have your back,” I quip with a grin.

  My dad coughs and clears his throat as he says, “Speaking of the family, let’s get back to that favor I was going to ask you.”

  I shrug, trying to disguise my trepidation as I remark, “I guess, if you must…

  ON ANY GIVEN DAY, DECIPHERING Declan’s text messages is an art form, but on days that he is stressed or angry, it’s almost impossible. Something has set him off today. He seemingly has forgotten that the alphabet actually contains vowels.

  As I balance a bag of groceries on my hip and carry it into the house, I ask Claire, “Any idea what has your son so tied up in knots that he’s practically speaking in hieroglyphics?”

  “Oh dear! I was afraid that might be his reaction. Connie must’ve summoned up the nerve to ask him,” she replies.

  “Ask him what?” I probe.

  “Connor’s doctors think he needs a little more time away from the business to get his feet under him and feel better after the surgery. They asked him to come up with a contingency plan that would allow him to take a few more weeks to heal. Connor wants to involve Declan in the business. I know that my son doesn’t think he is any good at the car business, but he really is. Even with the differences between him and Connor, Connie can recognize what a natural talent Declan possesses.”

  “What about Declan’s other commitments?” I question.

  “I wasn’t aware that he had other commitments. I was under the impression that he was pretty much free to come and go as he wished,” Claire comments, as she put the groceries away.

  “For a guy who claims to be footloose and fancy free, his schedule is remarkably packed with commitments. There are a lot of people who count on him every single day. He is often over extended,” I explain.

  “Maybe he shouldn’t worry so much about money,” she remarks, as she shakes her head in dismay. “I don’t know,” she throws her hands up in the air. “Maybe the problem is that he doesn’t worry enough about money. I have never figured that child out.”

  “Claire, I think that we’re having a miscommunication here — you would be so proud of what Declan is doing with his life if you only knew about all of it. Your son is one of the most remarkable men I have ever met in my life.”

  “He is?” Claire asks. “But aren’t you worried about him? He told me that he was staying at your house because someone beat him up because of his job. Is that true?”

  “It is true that some punk kids decided to jump him on a city bus and he was there because he was working. But that could have happened even if he was a lawyer or a teacher or a doctor. The part of Declan’s job that you don’t see is that he generously gives hours and hours of time away to charities every month. He volunteers for my mom at the library and helps teach young kids who struggle in school how to write music and lyrics. He performs free of charge for Children’s Hospital and the Veterans of Foreign Wars. If that weren’t enough, he helps my neighbor go grocery shopping twice a week just because she’s not strong enough to do it by herself. Claire, your son may not be very wealthy, but he is one of the richest guys I know.”

  Claire puts down the groceries she’s stacking in the refrigerator drawer and she walks over and pulls me into a tight hug. “Jade, I can’t thank you enough for telling me about that. If I can get Declan to tell me anything at all, he just tells me that he is eating enough and that he is having a good time. He promises me that someday he’ll come home and have a nice home-cooked meal. He never tells me anything about what he’s doing or who he’s doing it with. I always knew that he would be my child that would march to a different drummer. He always seemed to notice different things in the world. If we went on a walk, he would find the broken sticks, the sick animals and the birds with no homes. With such a tender heart, I always wondered how he would make it in the world. It seems that perhaps he’s found a way to make it just fine.”

  “Please don’t misunderstand, Declan works incredibly hard. I don’t know that I could put in the number of hours he does and face the repeated rejections he does day in and day out and still stay as positive as he does. I know it must be incredibly tough, but he seems to take it in stride. I think he was most worried about letting you and Connor down.”

  “I know that my husband can be a tough one to please, but he is very proud of what Declan has managed to accomplish. Many people Declan’s age have given up. Connor is impressed with Declan’s ability to follow through with his dreams.”

  I remember Declan’s conversations with me about his parents, and I don’t recall him ever referencing his father being proud of him. “Claire, does Declan know that Connor is proud of him?”

  Claire stops folding the grocery bags as she pauses to think, “Surely he does. Otherwise, Connor would never ask him to step up and help him with the business.”

  “I don’t know if it’s quite so simple, Claire. Something about conversations with our parents can make things so much more difficult. I’m in the middle of it all with my dad right now too. We can’t seem to get ourselves on the same page about what’s best for me. My dad grew up with a vision of me in his head and things have recently changed. I am no longer the little girl that he imagined that I would grow up to be and I’m not sure that he’ll ever fully adjust to that. I don’t know how to bridge the gap between who I am and who he expects me to be. It has made communication between us really, really difficult. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but I can’t be the person he wants me to be. I’m just not her anymore,” I trail off, surprised that I disclosed so much.

  Claire hands me a box of tissues as she remarks, “Oh sweetie, I’m sorry. That is so incredibly difficult. If it makes you feel any better, I think the you that you are right now is thoroughly delightful.”

  “Thank you, that’s incredibly kind of you to say. But, at the moment I’m concerned that Declan might interpret Connor’s offer as pressure for him to be more like Finn and Rowan and less like himself.”

  “Oh, I never thought about that. You’re right, Declan might think that Connor wants him to give up his singing. I don’t think that that’s the case, but it might seem that way to Declan. I’ll talk to Connor about it,” Clare offers.

  “I don’t know how I feel about that, I could be entirely wrong about the situation,” I admit.

  “Knowing this group of hardheaded men of mine, I think you’re probably right. If there are a hundred ways to interpret the conversation correctly and one way to misinterpret it, my guys will misinterpret it and probably get in a huge fight o
ver it,” Claire replies.

  “They do seem to fight lot. It must have been loud when they were kids.”

  “Have you ever watched tornado coverage on the Weather Channel with the volume blasting on high? That’s roughly equivalent to what it was like around here.”

  I tuck my hand into Declan’s and stick it in his deep jacket pocket as I snuggle closer. “I’ve never actually run away from home with someone before. How do you get away with it?”

  Declan stops to pick up a piece of driftwood and throws it back into the surf. He shrugs as he responds, “I didn’t really leave them much room to argue. I informed them that I was kidnapping you and that I would return you in a couple of days if I felt like it. My mom has my number to get a hold of me if my dad ends up back in the hospital, but other than that they’re not supposed to even call me — this is our time.”

  “Wow, this may be a first in our relationship. I think we’ve always been accessible to somebody. We can be like an old married couple who vacations in a honeymoon suite for the first time without the kids,” I joke.

  All joking aside, it’s what it feels like. Declan and I have been so busy lurching from personal crisis to personal crisis that we haven’t even really had a chance to settle in and enjoy each other as a couple. In a way, this is our first little mini staycation.

  “Only in Florida can we find a little seafood shack open on the beach in January,” I remark, as we come up to a little shack with a grass roof and barstools.

  “Hawaii too; one guy I used to busk with lived there for a while. He made pretty good money, but he could dance the hula far better than me. I guess it pays to be multitalented,” Declan says, as he pretends to do the hula.

  Laughing at his antics, I respond, “I don’t know, I think you’re pretty talented.”

  Looking around at the deserted picturesque beach setting and sampling my frosty, fruity drink, I wait a few minutes before I break the silence with my question, “Is there any particular reason you ran away from home?”