Chapter Eleven

A Little Yellow House in Redbank

The full moon illuminated her face as she sat in the window seat, half empty wine glass in her hand.  She had been staring up at the stars wondering if he was doing the same.  Way too many years had passed by without hearing a peep from him, then out of nowhere he knocked on her door and his kids adorably shouted, “Trick or treat.”  Those adorably precocious boys that looked so much like their father.  Seeing little miniature versions of Jon that he was raising while he’d left her to find her own way with their son had cut her like a knife.  Those boys that he’d had with another woman.  That was what hurt the most.  

Then, he’d shown up at her bar.

And, he’d been angry.

Where the hell did he get off?  If anyone had the right to be pissed off in this scenario it was her.  He’d abandoned her while she was pregnant with his son.  

His son.

Frankie had told her that Jon had shown up at one of his performances.  Her son had described in detail their encounter.  He wasn’t happy about meeting his “sperm donor”.  That’s what her son insisted on calling his biological father.  She’d had a relatively happy life with Joey.  It wasn’t the fiery passion that she’d experienced with Jon, but it was comfortable and stable.  The difference between a bright comet that blazed across the sky, disappearing way too soon and looking up at the face of the full moon that stayed steady and true.  Frankie worshipped Joey.

There had been a lot of things lacking in her marriage, but honesty had never been one of them.  Joey knew all about her relationship with Jon.  She’d felt like it was his right to know, given that he was going to be raising the other man’s son.  Last year, after a long battle with cancer, Joey had left them.  Late one night, while she’d been sitting by his hospital bed, he’d told her what he wanted most for Frankie and for her once he was gone.

Joey had insisted that he wanted Frankie to meet and get to know his biological father.  Her husband had actually met Jon several years ago.  Of course, Jon didn’t know who the other man was, but that wasn’t what was important.  Joey had always been curious about the kind of person the musician was.  How the man could just walk away from a woman like Kimber and their unborn child.  Her husband had confessed all of this to her that night in his hospital room.  He’d met Jon at a charity function.  Joey had done some internet research on the other man.  Her husband had told her that he honestly believed that Jon was a good person.  He’d insisted that something had to have gone wrong all those years ago; he didn’t believe that Jon had abandoned her and Frankie.

She’d scoffed at the time, sure her husband was a fool.  But now?  Thinking about the look on Jon’s face, the hurt hidden behind the anger?  Yeah, maybe there was something to Joey’s theory.  But she’d be damned if she was going to be the one to ask the questions, or provide answers for that matter.

She took another sip of her wine.  How could the wounds still hurt so damn bad?  It had been years.  Why hadn’t the cuts on her still bandaged heart healed by now?

Here in the dark, with the moon her only witness, she could admit to the hours spent on youtube watching concert footage and interviews.  Over the years, she’d watched as he aged more gracefully than any man should ever be allowed to do.  He still had the finest ass in all of creation.  She’d wished for a potbelly and a receding hairline, but Fate was not her friend.  Apparently.

When he’d stormed in her office that night, there had been pain in those beautiful blue eyes.  Hurt had laced his words when he’d asked about her getting the Cochlear implant.  She knew why.  He wanted to know why she’d done it, when she hadn’t been willing to get it for him.  She’d had the surgery years ago, so that she could hear Frankie play guitar and sing.  She’d been so very proud of her son.  Still was.  So, she knew exactly what had prodded Jon into introducing himself to Frankie.  If she’d been in his shoes, she’d have done the same thing.

Frankie was not happy.  He’d inherited his father’s temper right along with his glacial blue eyes.  She had asked her son to give Jon a chance, to maybe meet him for coffee and hear him out.  She’d tried to do what Joey had asked of her with his dying breath.  But, Frankie wasn’t having it.  Kimber understood; he thought it would be disloyal to Joey to have any kind of a relationship with Jon.

Because, she felt disloyal too.