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Never Said Goodbye Chapter 6
by Rebel Goddess (no login)
Mumble mumble mumble...
I disclaim.
Chapter 6
September came all too soon for Shawn and Megan. Her school started a week later than his, so she agreed that she would visit his family in Salem before returning to Arizona and her father.
Their last day in New York, Shawn dipped his hand inside his leather jacket pocket and discovered Claire Danes’s card slipped into the side. Laughingly, he showed it first to Rosa and Guiseppe, and then to Megan who sat at a table sipping a cappuccino, waiting for him to finish his shift.
Rosa had a brilliant idea.
She and her husband were a first generation Italian immigrants, and they had retained their accents even though they had lived in New York for almost twenty years. “This is your last day in New York, so we were going to give you a little party, Angelo,” she had hated the name Shawn from the first and christened him after her favourite painter on the first day, and the name had stuck. Few people now realised that Angelo’s real name was Shawn, and Rosa had forgotten she had ever made the change. “As you have this girl’s phone number, call her. Ask her if she would like to come too.”
Guiseppe smiled his wide, white toothed smile at his darling wife, signifying that he and Rosa really meant it. Shawn had intended to take Megan out to dinner that night, but a party with all their New York friends seemed a much better idea. Surprisingly, Claire Danes not only remembered who he was (she called him ‘My knight in shining armour, or rather leather jacket’) but agreed to come to the party, promising to bring a friend along with her to even out the numbers. Shawn was ecstatic, and only sorry that he had to say goodbye to his friends so soon.
The party was madly fun, all Italian food, fast talking, sweet desserts and smiling faces. Every single one of Shawn’s friends in New York came, and the museum curator that Megan had made friends with came as well. Surprisingly the curator was not only young, but handsome. He was a quiet guy, tall and with an air of mystery, but Shawn couldn’t help but like him. He knew Megan did, and that was recommendation enough.
Claire came, as promised, with an actor on her arm by the name of James Marsden. Smiling, Shawn greeted her and James with his finest New York accent and a few scattered words of Italian that he had picked up through the summer. James, young and handsome, talked half the night away with Rosa and Guiseppe’s daughter, Maria, making her laugh constantly. Claire spent most of the night dancing with Shawn under the stars and skyscrapers, while Megan promenaded with her museum curator.
By the midnight, the party was in full swing and at three in the morning, the first of the guests departed. Marco, the homeless Professor of Renaissance art and nuclear physics, Shawn had befriended in the park six weeks before, helped to clean up the restaurant, and was surprised by Shawn and Megan handing him the keys to their apartment, with three months’ rent paid in advance. Shawn said it was in repayment of the weeks of tutoring he had received over the hot summer evenings in the small park between the hospital and Rosa’s restaurant.
Shawn had little money left at the end, but with what he had, he bought two plane tickets back to Salem and a few presents for the only people at home he could still respect. Megan was off her crutches, and he promised her that he would take her for a ride on his father’s motorbike, provided he was ever let out of the house again and still alive after the arguments he was about to have with his parents, as soon as they arrived in Salem.
“You look after him, Megan.” Rosa had commanded, with tears in her eyes as they called a cab. “Angelo, he’s a tough boy, but he needs a little help sometimes.” She kissed Megan on the cheek and practically knocked Shawn off his feet before she would let them go. Clutching at Maria, she said a tearful goodbye to her favourite waiter, and Guiseppe came out to wave them off.
Shawn didn’t call ahead to either his parents or Belle, so no one was waiting at the airport to pick the pair up. Heaving his duffel bag over his shoulder, and taking everything from Megan, Shawn braced himself to return to his home town. The bike was gone, but he had realised it would have been. His father must have found it long before, or else it had been stolen.
Megan was surprised by the smallness of Shawn’s hometown. She had imagined that it must have been somewhere large and wild to produce her Tough Guy, but the simplicity of the place charmed her. A plan formed in her mind, and she wondered where she would be in another week.
Shawn took her by the hand and walked her out of the cab and into the Brady Pub, waiting for what response he knew he must get. The waitress was new, and as none of his family was out in the bar, and no one he knew was in the pub, Shawn settled himself down at the piano, dumping the bags to one side and began to play. It hadn’t been tuned, but it still sounded pretty good.
Leaning over his shoulder, Megan whispered “Play that song we heard in Central Park in August, the one where I liked so much,” in Shawn’s ear.
“OK.” Shawn leaned down a little and tried to remember how it began. Then his fingers began to move in a fast, fluent way and an aria from Puccini’s ‘Madame Butterfly’ flooded the pub, charming the drinkers. Remembering what she had once seen a piano player in another pub do, Megan grabbed an empty plate and put it on top of the piano. She wasn’t sure if Shawn was willing to move back into his parents’ place, or if they would find a motel room to share. The money, she had realised, was running out and though she knew they wouldn’t starve, she wanted to be sure.
Soon enough, coins dropped into the plate and Shawn started taking requests. The waitress, a rather plain girl with mousy brown hair, asked for an old pop song and someone else called out for ‘As Time Goes By’.
Just as he was finishing that, a voice called out for Gilbert and Sullivan’s ‘Poor Wandering One’. Shawn smiled and started it, realising what was about to happen. Megan had a little shock when a pretty girl with waist length black hair and an ugly blue sun dress started singing the words in a high, operatic voice. Her large and piercing dark blue eyes were covered by a hideous pair of glasses, which hid most of her face.
Chloe Lane’s voice was as beautiful as an angel’s, and Brady Black, walking through the door, long off his crutches though still a little wobbly on his feet, felt his breath being taken away by it. So much so, that he missed the fact that Shawn was back and playing the piano.
When they had finished, even more money poured into the dish and Chloe flung her arms around Shawn, surprising not only Brady and Megan but herself as well.
“Where the Hell have you been?” She pulled back abruptly and started shouting.
“Out of state.” Shawn deliberately didn’t say exactly where. New York was frequently perceived by the older residents of Salem as the national cat house and not necessarily the metropolitan cultural centre that it was.
“So you’re finally back.” Brady was just as pleased as Chloe was to see his cousin, but he wasn’t so open about it. “Nice girlfriend.”
He looked Megan up and down, but she stared him out brazenly before answering, “Shawn and I are just friends, but I can guess who you are. Brady Black, second wildest guy Salem has ever produced, opera lover and general pain. I’m glad to see you’re finally off your crutches. It’s a shame that bullet did nothing for your attitude.”
Brady adored her attitude instantly, not that he would let her know that. The only other person who even came close to speaking to him like that was Chloe, and even she had been getting soft recently. Finally a girl not only with spunk but also without a boyfriend had arrived in Salem. “And who the Hell are you? Mary Poppins?”
“This is my friend,” Shawn stressed the word as he introduced her, “Megan. Megan, this is Chloe and you’ve introduced yourself to Brady already.” He took a deep breath and asked, “Is my Dad around?”
“No,” Chloe paused before going on, “the whole Brady family is in Toronto, looking for you.”
Shawn didn’t believe it. “Why have they gone to Toronto?”
“You sent Belle a letter, the postcode was from Toronto.” Brady explained, his eyes hardening. “You know my sister’s been crying every day since you took off?”
Shawn ignored his question, though he felt a stab of guilt for making Belle cry. “Oh, God, we only went to Toronto for two days. When are they coming back?”
The answer was interrupted by a small squealing noise. Belle and Mimi, on their way to meet Chloe, had just walked in the pub door and were standing at Shawn, jaws dropping. He wasn’t as he had looked when he had left them. His earring was back in, his hair was a little shaggier round the edges and he was considerably more tanned and muscular after days of carrying heavy trays around and carrying Megan, who had been in a wheel chair at first, up seven flights of stairs to the apartment, but it just made him even more gorgeous.
Belle couldn’t decide, as she stared at him, whether to hit him or kiss him. In the end she screamed. “SHAWN DOUGLAS BRADY!”
Twisting around, Shawn suddenly found a small blonde head just beneath his chin and a pair of arms firmly gripping his waist.
“Hey Perfect Girl, miss me much?” He rubbed her hair, finding it just as short as when he had left and softer than before. She pulled away instantly, furious and spitting like a wet cat.
“Where have you been? Don’t you know I - we- have been worried sick?” Belle practically jumped and down with her fury. “I thought you were dead! I had no idea what had happened to you, you jerk!”
“Oh, that’s a nice welcome.” Shawn’s eyes suddenly told a different story to his flippant and sarcastic tone. He seemed to once more be assessing exactly who knew about his mother and John Black. Baby JT wasn’t just his little brother, but Belle’s and Brady’s as well. He wondered if Belle knew, or Brady, and he was drawing back from the pair. He felt as though he would only ever be able to trust Megan. No one else understood him, and he feared that they lied to him. All the insecurities and doubts that Megan had helped him to banish over the last few months, though never knowing the cause, came flooding back.
“Of course I’ve missed you! I just spent an entire summer without one of my best friends!” Belle hesitated before she said ‘best friend’ mentally changing it to ‘sweetheart’.
“So you’re not mad?” Listening to her perky voice, Shawn doubted that Belle could lie to him. She was too sweet and innocent for that.
Before she could answer, the door of the Pub swung open once more and Bo strode in, with Philip Kiriakis behind him. With relief, Shawn saw his mother wasn’t with them, and that John Black wasn’t there either. He doubted whether, even now, he could have borne a conversation with either without almost killing one of them.
“Shawn?” His father was picking him up in a manly hug even as he said the words, practically crushing his ribs in his arms. Everyone else was equally warm in their greetings, but less physical. “Where the Hell have you been? We’ve been worried sick!”
Bo was back to scolding immediately, and Shawn privately prayed that his father would find it as much of a shock as he had himself to find out his mother’s secret. Smiling happily, Shawn pulled Megan forward by the hand and introduced her to everyone with a massive grin, “This is Megan.”
His father looked like he was about to cry, to kill him and to hug him all over again at the same time.
“I suppose it’s really my fault that Shawn left, sir.” Megan remembered her own father and how he would have court martialled her if she hadn’t remembered the sir when speaking to a friend’s father. “You see, we’ve been writing to each other for a while, and I had a bit of an accident in New York.”
She blushed gently as everyone stared at her and Shawn filled in her story after snorting briefly, “Try you were hit by a bus and ended up in a coma in the hospital for three weeks.”
“Yes,” Megan thanked Shawn with her eyes and went on, not knowing that Belle was burning up with jealousy only feet away from her, “My father wrote to Shawn telling him what had happened and he came right up to see me.”
“But why didn’t you tell us?” Belle was indignant for more reasons than she cared to admit. “We could have helped.”
Shawn felt rather bitter, and he tried not to let it show. “I did ask. I think your exact words were ‘Go away Shawn Douglas Brady. You couldn’t be bothered with me earlier, and now I can’t be bothered with you. I have my own problems, and none of them concern you.’” He almost smiled at her, but resisted the impulse, giving her a puppy dog look instead.
“Oh.” Belle remembered her words only too clearly, hating herself for what she had said, and dropped the argument. “You could have at least left a note.”
“Sorry,” Shawn felt a little guilty, “I was kind of sick at the time and I guess I wasn’t thinking too clearly.”
“No kidding.” Brady put in, making Shawn remember just why he had left once more and go on the defensive again. He didn’t say anything, just glowered instead.
Megan cut in before her friend could say anything he would regret later, speaking to Bo instead of to the teenagers, “Excuse me, Mr Brady, it really is my fault that Shawn hasn’t been back sooner. He didn’t want to leave me either when I was in the hospital or when I was alone in New York. I’m so sorry you’ve been worried.” She smiled, and Bo smiled down at her.
“That’s OK.” Turning back to Shawn, he became stern once more, “I’m going to call your mother and then we’re going to go home and have a long talk about responsibility.”
Shawn suddenly bridled. “I’m not staying at home.”
Bo and Belle were both shocked, and Megan backed up, almost herding Belle, Brady, Philip and Chloe away to give Shawn and his father some privacy. She told them about living in New York, the parties they had been to and the sights they had seen, while Shawn and his father went into the back to argue.
Bo had flicked open his mobile phone and was calling Hope. “Honey?” That simple word make Shawn feel sick to the stomach when applied to his mother.
“Hope, Shawn’s here with me.” Shawn could almost hear her sigh of relief.
Bo paused, listening intently, and then held out the phone to Shawn. He shook his head, almost backing away from it. He couldn’t talk to his mother now. He would need to leave again if he did.
“He’s a little busy now, Hope, we’re at the Pub. We’ll see you back at the house soon. Great. Bye.” Bo hung up and turned to his son in a slow and careful movement.
“Are you going to tell me why you really left?” Bo hadn’t been deceived by Shawn’s story. He believed Megan was telling the truth, but he knew that it would have taken more than just a sick friend, possibly a sick girlfriend, in the hospital to make Shawn take off. “And why you refuse to talk to your mother?” He had noticed that all through the summer, no matter how hard Hope tried to talk to Shawn, he always hung up on her before she could.
Shawn thought for a minute, wondering whether he could honestly tell his father what he had heard, and then answered, “I heard Hope arguing with John about baby JT.” He stopped and waited for his father to respond, to tell him how he had been betrayed. He was desperately hoping that what he was about to say would be news to his father, that he hadn’t lied too.
“What were they arguing about?” If Bo knew, he wasn’t about to tell his son.
Shawn took a deep breath and let it all out, and the vehemence of a summer of heart ache poured out with it. “I heard them say that John Thomas wasn’t your son, that John Black was the father.”
Bo sat down abruptly. “Oh.” Shawn looked at his father, trying to work out if he knew, or had known. “You know.” Those two simple words plunged a dagger into Shawn’s heart.
“You lied to me?” He wasn’t angry, that would come later, now he was feeling completely betrayed. He wanted to be back in New York, where his heart hurt less. “Who knew about this? Did the whole of Salem know and you all kept if from me?”
Bo realised what had happened and desperately tried to explain. “I didn’t know when you were with us, Shawn, I only found out over the summer.”
Shawn didn’t know if he believed him, but the atmosphere of the room was so tense that he couldn’t bear it. He ran from it all, grabbing his duffel bag in one movement on the way out of the front door, narrowly missing his Grandfather and his mother coming in. He didn’t stop for them, dashing past and wondering if he could stay with Marco in New York for a bit. He needed transport, and money, but now he needed to think. Running like a mad thing, he collapsed at his private place, gasping for air, in terrible pain and all alone.
Bo felt awful. He knew why Shawn had left, and after his own ordeal he knew that the family problems were far from over. Hope hurried into the back room, with Grandpa Shawn behind her, to find her husband looking miserable.
“Was that Shawn? What happened?” Hope looked half happy and half miserable.
Grandpa Shawn went out into the front of the Pub where he found the teenagers of Salem loudly wondering what was the matter with their friend.
Bo took a deep breath and answered, “He knows, Hope. You had some argument the day he left. He overheard that JT wasn’t my son and he took off. He’s been in New York. Some girl he knows was in the hospital and they’ve been living together throughout the summer. That’s why he left, Hope. He thinks we all lied to him.”
She felt as bad as Bo looked. She had driven her son away, and now he wouldn’t even talk to her. Tears were in her eyes as she fell into Bo’s arms. “What are we going to do?” She sobbed into his chest. “My poor baby.”
“I don’t know, Hope,” Bo murmured to her, not knowing other words to comfort her with, “I just don’t know.”
Want more? Sorry, I've realised this is one of my worst chapters, but it is necessary.