Chapter 77

Jon’s flight was on schedule, and the stewardesses in the first class cabin kept him well supplied with coffee and food. His last-minute booking meant that, thankfully, the press were blissfully unaware of his arrival, and the airline staff helpfully got him processed through the formalities so he could head out for a night in a hotel before getting his private flight down to Cornwall the next morning.

Next morning, though they didn’t know it, Sara and Jon breakfasted at the same time - Jon on room service, and Sara in the hotel’s charming dining room, her table by the window allowing her to gaze out at the beach. Jon’s flight had him down in Newquay just after ten am, and he grabbed a cab to take him to Perranporth, though from the driver’s expression, Jon was fairly sure he’d mangled both the hotel and town names!

While the taxi drove down myriad country lanes, where Jon couldn’t even see past the high banks on either side, he pulled out his cellphone and called Sara, who picked up almost immediately.

“Hi Jon.”

“Mornin’ baby. How you doin’ this morning?”

“I’m good. How ‘bout you?”

“Great. What’re you doing today, then?”

“Well, I’ve had breakfast, and I’m currently walking along the most beautiful beach. On my way back to the hotel, I’ll stop in at the Watering Hole for a coffee - they do really good coffee!”

“You’ll stop where?” Jon had just seen a sign that said he was only two miles away.

“The Watering Hole. It’s a restaurant right on the beach. I stopped in there yesterday afternoon.”

“Have a coffee for me, too.” Jon suggested. “I gotta go, babe. Talk to you soon.”

“Okay, bye Jon.”

The cab was just entering the village when Jon hung up, and he told the driver he now wanted to go to the Watering Hole. Sighing at the ignorance of tourists, the driver explained he’d have to walk - it was on the beach!

Pulling up right at the seawall, the cabbie pointed out across the beach to a sizeable wooden building.

“There’s your Watering ‘Ole over there. That’ll be fourteen pound eighty please.”

“Thanks, man.” Jon said, handing over twenty five pounds - not realising that Cornwall wasn’t exactly up to London levels when it came to tips. “Keep it.”

“Thank you.” Now, finally, the driver was friendlier, and he told Jon the best way to get to the Watering Hole, by crossing the car park and going onto the beach that way, avoiding the necessity of wading over any of the small streams.

Jon got out of the cab, his small bag slung over one shoulder, already wearing his cap and shades. He hefted his bag, moving the shoulder strap into a more comfortable position, then walked across the tarmac and down an incline onto the soft sand of the beach. Sara had been right - it really was a beautiful beach, and Jon paused for a minute on the little wooden bridge which spanned a stream, taking in the view and the tranquility. He thought he recognised Sara coming out of the Watering Hole, carrying a mug to one of the outdoor tables, and his pulse was racing as he started walking again. There was a side entrance, and he aimed for that, managing to cross the expanse of sand without Sara turning around.

Inside, he was forced to take off his sunglasses in the dim light, and he went over to the bar to order coffee. The young guy serving looked at him oddly - obviously thinking he recognised Jon, but his brain refusing to accept that it could possibly be who he thought, even when he heard the American accent. He poured the coffees and Jon paid for them, along with a plate of chocolate brownies, then picked up the tray and headed on outside. He left his sunglasses off, willing to suffer the painful eyes to he could see Sara more clearly.

Quietly on the sand, Jon walked up behind Sara and took the plate of brownies off the tray, laying them next to her mug.

“I didn’t order brownies.” Sara said, looking at the plate, then swivelling around to speak to - as she thought - the barman. Her jaw dropped. “Jon?!”

“Hi Sara.” He gave an uncertain grin, laying the tray on the table as he waited for her to speak again. She didn’t, and there was an interminable silence until Jon was forced to speak again.

“Baby - say something, please. Scream at me, slap me, anything!” He pleaded, and Sara slowly stood up to face him.

She had tears running down her face, and Jon’s spirit quailed as he thought this had been a mistake, it was too soon - he should’ve waited until she came home. All thoughts were driven from his mind a moment later as she hissed.

“You bastard, Jon!”

Her right hand came across like a striking rattlesnake as she slapped him with all her strength, the force of the blow jolting his bag from his shoulder to fall in the sand as his head snapped to the side.

While Jon was still reeling from the slap - he’d never realised she had strength like that in her - Sara spun around and half-ran out onto the beach, the soft windblown sand making her stumble. Jon only hesitated for a second - he’d come too far to just let her walk away from him now. Leaving his bag in the sand where it had fallen, he went after her, feeling tears in his eyes that weren’t just from the bright sun. Sara had stopped on the beach, standing staring out to sea, and Jon walked around in front of her. She looked at him for a second, through her tears, then dropped her gaze to the sand.

“Baby?” Jon cautiously took one of her hands, feeling a leap of hope when she didn’t pull away from him. “Sara? Please sweetheart - tell me what I can do, to make this better.”

He could feel her hand trembling in his, and he ached to take her in his arms, but forced himself to stand perfectly still until she finally looked at him again.

“I guess maybe I hadn’t calmed down as much as I thought. I did think I was over it until I saw you.” She said quietly. “You really hurt me, Jon.”

“I know I did, Sara, and I wish I could go back and start again, without being such a total prick this time, but I can’t.”

He could feel her beginning to pull her hand out of his grasp, and he quickly caught her other hand, too, holding them both tightly as he dropped onto his knees in the sand, looking abjectly up at her like a penitent begging forgiveness. It wasn’t all that far from the truth.

“Sara, please. I know I fucked up, but can you forgive me? I love you, baby.”

There were tears coursing down Jon’s face now as he stared pleadingly up at Sara. He thought he could see a softening of the taut line of her jaw, but he tried not to read too much into it, waiting patiently for her answer.

Sara looked down at Jon, every fibre of her being telling her to forgive him, remembering the old woman from the airport and her sad story. It just wasn’t in her nature to hold a grudge - just look how she’d forgiven Kay - and surely the fact that Jon had come this far to see her said enough? She pulled one hand free from Jon’s, and she could see the raw fear in his eyes, the fear that she was going to reject him. Instead of pulling away completely, though, Sara gently wiped the tears from his face, ignoring those dripping from her own lashes.

“Get up, you silly man.” She said, her voice husky with her tears. “Everybody’s looking at us.”

“I don’t care about ‘everybody’ - just you.” Jon told her as he got to his feet, still holding tightly to her hand.

“Sara - is this guy hassling you?” A voice from behind her.

Turning, Sara saw the young bartender, who must have seen her slap Jon and run away.

“Oh, no Alex, it’s fine.” She smiled reassuringly. “We’re fine now.”

She wiped the tears from her cheeks and tugged on Jon’s hand, pulling him back toward the table.

“Chocolate brownies, huh?”

“Seemed worth a shot.” Jon smiled now as he pulled his cap down a little further, trying to shade his eyes.

“Where are your sunglasses?”

“In my bag.”

Alex, the bartender, was still standing nearby, and Sara suddenly felt rude.

“I’m sorry - Alex, this is Jon. Jon - Alex. He’s been keeping me in coffee!”

“Good to meet you.” Jon grinned and held out a hand. “Thanks for looking out for Sara.”

“No problem - all part of the service.” Alex quickly shook Jon’s hand, then went back inside, trying to convince himself that it couldn’t possibly be Jon Bon Jovi.

Sara and Jon sat down, and Jon thankfully put on his sunglasses before picking up his coffee. Taking a brownie, Sara nibbled at the corner as Jon took a drink of coffee.

“So - what brings you to the UK?” Sara asked.

“I came to see you - to try to put things right.”

“Well, yeah, I can see that, but you must have had some other reason to fly all this way.”

She looked stunned when Jon shook his head, smiling crookedly at her.

“You came all the way here just for me? Why?”

“My sweet girl.” He reached to caress her face. “I had to come. I just couldn’t leave it another two weeks to apologise to you. I needed to see you, to try to - I don’t know - try to win you back, I guess. I got so damned scared that something was gonna happen, that I’d never see you again, never get the chance to speak to you and beg you to give me another chance.”

“Strangely enough, that’s pretty much why I called you the other day.” Sara said, picking pieces off the brownie. “I was talking with a woman at the airport, and she was telling me to give you another chance. Apparently she fought with her boyfriend years ago and he went off to war and never came back. She never got to say she was sorry. She was right - life’s too short.”

“Well, that’s sad, but I’m glad she told you, if that’s what made you willing to give me a second chance.”

“It was. Well, that and the fact that I missed you so much it felt like somebody was ripping my heart out. I tried so hard to hate you, but I just couldn’t do it.”

“And thank God for that. I was sure I’d lost you this time, Sara. Just tell me what you want me to do to make it up to you. Anything you want. Anything.”

“Well,” Sara pretended to think, “you did buy me chocolate brownies and coffee. What more could I possibly want or need?” The teasing sparkle was starting to return to her eyes. “How about a kiss?”

“Your wish is my command.” Jon grinned, leaning forward to press his lips to hers, his mouth taking possession of hers as his tongue teased her.

She tasted of chocolate and coffee, and Jon felt her fingers pushing his cap back off his head so she could tangle her hands into his hair. The sudden harsh cry of a gull reminded them they were on a public beach, and they broke apart reluctantly, each of them hungry for more.

“Am I forgiven?” Jon asked quietly, his face still close to Sara.

“I’m not sure. I mean, as a good Catholic boy, shouldn’t you be doing penance or something? Y’know, on your knees?”

Jon looked around with a grin, sliding one hand up her thigh.

“Here? I’m game if you are!”

“No, not here! Where are you staying?”

He had the grace to look slightly embarrassed.

“I was hoping to charm my way back into your good graces, and hopefully back into your bedroom.” He admitted.

“You think I’m that easy? Buy me coffee and chocolate and I’m yours?” Sara giggled. “God, I hate being predictable. Of course you can share my room - it’s got two beds after all!”

Jon rolled his eyes, then Sara changed the subject slightly.

“Do you feel like taking a walk?”

“Where to?”

“I want to go up on the cliffs, but I’m kinda afraid of heights, so I didn’t want to go up alone.”

“Sure. D’you think your buddy would let me leave my bag here?”

“Probably. I can ask. Let’s go inside and find out.”