... And There She Was

Chapter 6

The tires of his car squealed slightly as Michael pulled up behind Zoey's Jeep. His heart sunk, knowing they had no more distance to travel before parting ways for the evening, that familiar feeling of emptiness creeping upon him, just as it had every other time he had to say 'good night' to her.

He put the car in park and cut the engine, as the pair sat for a few moments longer in their comfortable silence.

"Thank you for having me over, I had a really good time," Zoey said.

"Thank you for coming," he replied. "...and for staying for dinner. I hope Janet didn't bug you too much with all her questions..." he added, embarrassed.

"Not at all," she said sincerely. "She worships you, ya know? I can tell."

Michael knew. And he was just as protective of his baby sister as she was of him. Janet's natural taking to Zoey had not been too surprising, he found it hard to think that Zoey could ever not make a friend. His Mother had been quite impressed with the young girl as well, for she already knew of the massively positive impact their friendship had had on her son. In fact, just as Zoey had entered the house with Michael right behind her, Katherine had already been on her way over to the couple.

Zoey would have been geeking out over the immaculate, modern yet traditional kitchen were it not for the beautiful black woman slowly making her way over to the pair. Zoey noticed her slight limp, something Michael had told her about awhile back.

"Hello, you two! Finally decide to come into the house? Zoey, it's so wonderful to have you here!" she had said, nearing closer.

"Oh..um...he-hello Mrs. Jackson..." she stuttered. Michael tried to calm her nerves by placing his palm on Zoey's lower back, nudging her into the home. This intimate gesture instead sent her mindset into a tizzie.

"Oh sweetheart, call me Katherine!"

"Um—alrigh..." Zoey would have finished her thought, but was struck speechless with emotion...as Katherine had finally come in front of the couple, and enveloped Zoey into a warm, motherly hug.

It was something Zoey had not expected. It was shocking, how much emotion Katherine could put into a hug for someone she had just met. It almost put her in tears, the way Katherine seemed to gulp her up, very slightly rocking from side to side. She was warm and soft, and smelled of raisin pie. The hug, the welcoming of this girl into her home, this new friend of her son, over whom she more than likely had the protectiveness of a lioness...It was so...well, motherly. And that is what Zoey had been desperately missing.

Zoey felt silly, for whatever reason she had imagined them having dinner in some grand ballroom, with candelabras and chandeliers and people sitting 5 feet away from one another at a table the size of a football field, sliding salt and pepper shakers down the table like shuffleboard. In fact, the four of them had crowded around a tiny table right in the middle of the kitchen. During dinner, she felt Michael's knee brush up along side of hers more than a few times, after the third or fourth time, he simply left it there, their knees resting against the other's in a concealed, constant contact.

Dinner had been a lively affair, Zoey being politely inquisitive of the glorious house and Katherine's large family. Janet peppered her with questions left and right.

"How old are you?"

"I'm 19."

"Where are you from?"

"I'm from Kansas City."

"What do you do?"

"I own a bakery.

"Does your family live here?"

"Uh...um...not really, no."

"Is that your real hair color?"

"Yes."

"Do you like my brother?"

"JANET." Michael and Katherine said in unison.

Everything was going along smoothly, until Katherine asked the question Zoey had been dreading more than anything. She had hoped it wouldn't come up, but knew it wasn't avoidable forever.

"So Zoey, what do your parents do?" Katherine said sweetly.

Zoey had just taken a bite of her vegetable lasagna, so had to hold up a finger, signaling she was trying to finish chewing. Ever realize how, when you want or need to finish chewing something, and people are staring at you, waiting on you, you suddenly lose your swallowing reflex?

Luckily though, this gave her some time to think of how best to answer it. Past tense always worked for her, and either people caught on or didn't. It wasn't an intentionally sneaky act, for she never lied...just never, told the truth unless the person pressed further. Zoey had deduced that Michael hadn't caught on. Or, rather, he had and hadn't felt comfortable asking yet....

Zoey wiped the corners of her mouth with her napkin once she had finally choked down her food. "My father owned a large livestock processing facility, and my mother was a schoolteacher."

Janet, of course, caught on immediately.

"Are they not with us anymore?" She asked, the tone of her voice hesitant, and soft.

Zoey took a large gulp of her iced lemonade. "Um...no. No they're not."

She felt Michael's eyes burning into her temple, his knee not budging from its warm spot up against hers. If anything, his pressure increased, allowing himself to sink into her completely. It was what he had suspected. He wanted to hug her, to hold her, to tell her that this could be her family. If she wanted, of course.....Zoey couldn't bring herself too look at him. She knew she would lose it. The comfort of his touch was enough right now, to have his majestic eyes peel away her armor into the depth of her soul would have been too much to bear.

Katherine looked at the young girl with eyes full of sympathy. "Might I ask what happened, dear?"

"Oh, of course. They died about....5 years ago. Car accident." She pushed her spinach salad around on her plate. A pecan rolled off the side and weeble-wobbled around on the table until becoming still. She quickly picked up the nut and placed in on the rim of her plate, wiping away the bit of dressing off the wood tabletop.

"Oh my," she said in a hushed breath. "I'm so sorry. And you were just, 14? Goodness."

"I was 15. I..... turn 20 next week, actually, on Thursday," she said, surprising even herself with that statement. The day had snuck up on her. She was careful of not saying 'birthday', as Michael had mentioned that as part of his faith, they did not celebrate birthdays. They didn't disbelieve in birthdays, it just wasn't something they had a big party for. Birthdays...came and went. Like dawn and dusk.

Michael cleared his throat and quickly changed the subject away from Zoey's parents. The evening continued on, with eventually the quartet moving into the living room for dessert and games. As the evening sadly closed in on a late hour, it was decided that the two should leave, as their trip back into the city was going to be long. Zoey said her goodbyes to Janet and Katherine, again receiving hugs from both. She may have been hallucinating, but she could have sworn she heard Katherine's barely audible sigh of "thank you" in her ear during their embrace.

For all the night's laughing, teasing and storytelling, the subject of the death of Zoey's parents failed to leave Michael's mind. It was this that he was still thinking of whilst sitting in the car with her at the end of their perfect day.

"I'm sorry about your parents," he finally said.

"Thanks." She said with a shrug.

"I had a suspicion, but I didn't want to say anything. The way you talk about them, ya know?"

"Yeah...." She trailed off.

"What happened?"

Silence.

"I'm sorry, does this bother you?" He suddenly felt imposing, and intrusive. Overstepping his boundaries.

"No...it's...it's fine." And it was, him asking about it. Zoey felt...safe. Telling him her life. "Drunk driver."

"Did he...die also?"

"Yep."

"Oh." He picked away at the "RR" emblem on the steering wheel. "Did you live with your grandparents...after?"

She shook her head. "No grandparents."

"Oh. Aunt and uncle?"

"None of those either." She shrugged again, a sad smirk pulling at her lips. It was one of her many defense mechanisms; giving a hint of a sad smile when forced to discuss her status as an orphan. 'It's fine, I'm fine.' it said. She couldn't let what was going on in her heart play out on her face, or else people wouldn't treat her normally. They'd treat her as a fragile piece of glass, someone to be pitied. Someone to feel sorry for.

Michael's brow furrowed in confusion. He knew she didn't have any siblings, as well. That had already been touched upon. Michael did the math. No parents, no grandparents, no brothers, no sisters, no aunts, no uncles and therefore...no cousins? No one. Nothing.

"Zoey, I'm sorry if I'm, um, prying, but," he gulped nervously. "...how can you have no family?"

"My parents didn't have any family. It was just them. Then us. Now, just me." Her voice wasn't completely void of emotion, but it wasn't sad either. Just...declarative. Accepting of her fate.

"It's not 'just you', Zoey." He reached over to her hands that were clasped together in her lap, and easily covered both of them with his large, strong hand. He gripped them tightly. Maybe he couldn't say it out loud yet, but with this gesture he made a step towards showing how he felt—that she would never be alone.

Michael stared at Zoey, but her eyes did not meet his. Here she sat, all of not even 20 years, and having already gone through so much. Michael's own issues seemed trivial now, and a small waft of shame briefly saturated his conscience. Complaining about traveling the world, making people happy with his music, meeting celebrities, dignitaries, making enough money by his 22nd birthday to support his whole family and himself for the rest of their lives, and having a beautiful, warm, busy home to come home to. And yet, as miserable as he was at times, he had done it all with the support of his family. He had a family to come home to. He had a mother, and a father. Eightbrothers and sisters. An extended family that seemed to grow by the month. Sure, at times they were aggravating and annoying, but at least they were there. Zoey had none of that, he realized, that fact now settling deep into his heart.

The history of Zoey's family, or lack thereof, goes much deeper than "my parents didn't have any family". Though, it was a story she rarely told. Not out of fear or shame, but out of privacy. Only a handful of people knew her parent's story, Maddie among them. From there, the list is short. The details of why both of her parents were orphaned as children in their native Poland, were details that need not be shared with everyone. Zoey knew in her heart that someday, sometime, she would share her story with Michael, but their day had been so wonderful, she didn't want it to end on a sour note. Tales of horror and inhumanity tend to do that.

Slowly, Michael's hand slipped off from atop hers. The chilly air swooped upon her once heated skin. Such a difference, that on a slightly cooler day, steam may have rose.

"I love your home," Zoey finally cooed, happy to change the subject.

"Thanks," he said. "I'm sorry I didn't get to show you all of the house. Next time?" Between dinner and spending time with Katherine and Janet, Michael hadn't been able to take her on the grand tour he had promised.

"I'm holding you to it. Ya know, it reminds me of a fairytale, your house. Or...," she paused to find the right description. "...Disneyland, or something." She giggled. "I mean...I've never been, but I've seen pictures." She shuffled in her seat to face him, tucking her left leg under her butt. She lazily rested her head on the headrest, her hair cascasding down across her shoulders as she looked at him with glossy, dewy eyes.

All the muscles in Michael's face went slack, his jaw dropped down, leaving his mouth wide open, gaping in shock. His left hand that he been limply resting atop the steering wheel flopped to his lap.

"I hope you're not being serious," he said, gobsmacked, almost put off. "You've never been to Disneyland? Ever? Ever? Like....ever." He cocked one eyebrow high.

"Nope!" She laughed at herself. Michael would have guessed that with her nearly encyclopedia knowledge of all things Disney, she would have made that particular pilgrimage. Her knowledge challenged that of his own, which was saying something. To call him a "collector" of Disney memorabilia was almost insulting. He was a connoisseur.

"Oh, Zoey..." he gushed, telling her of the magic of Disneyland. This time, it was Micheal who shifted to face her, echoing her position of curling up one long leg and tucking it under his lithe body. He went there at least once a week, at least when he was in town. How when you step out from the shadows of the train station, the whole world opens up in front of you. Quaint building facades, smells of caramel apples and fudge, flowers of every kind and color, children howling with laughter after exiting a ride, music being piped out through speakers in every crack and crevice of the park. Memories, love. The whole park was, just....love. You could feel it, down to the core of your being. It was impossible to go to Disneyland and not feel like everything you ever want in life is capable of coming true, he explained.

Zoey had been listening intently, and completely charmed, as Michael passionately continued his endorsement of all things Disney.

"I'm sure I'll make it there at some point," she said. "Every time it's been planned...something comes up. Then.." she sighed, "it just gets lost amongst everything else. Pushed to the back burner. Again."

Michael was struck with an idea. A good idea, no, a great idea. But, he couldn't tell her of it yet...he had to wait. It was to be a surprise. He was already getting excited, just thinking about it.

The sat like that for a while longer, curled up in their seats and facing each other, heads limp against the headrests. Michael wanted to reach out and run his fingers through her waves, while Zoey sat fighting the urge to bury her face into the soft crook of his neck.

After a wide, (and most likely unattractive) yawn, Zoey glanced at the clock, wearily. It was late. Reluctantly, she and Michael both exited the car as they walked the short distance to the door of her Wagoneer. She leaned up against it, looking up at Michael, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her jacket.

"Thank you. For...everything today. I had the best time." She blushed deeply. "And your album is truly, truly amazing, if I haven't said so in the past 20 minutes. It's gonna go crazy, I know it. It'll sell, like, 30 million copies."

He beamed. "It's been about 24 minutes, but I guess I can let it slide. And unlikely." He shook his head at her obviously exaggerated prediction.

They both laughed softly, their feet shuffling on the pavement below them.

"So...."

"So....."

Kiss me.

Kiss her.

"I guess, I should....."

"Yeah, probably...."

"'ts late, and...."

"Mmm hmm...."

Why isn't he trying to kiss me?!

What are you waiting for?!

"Well. Goodnight Mike.."

"Good night Zoey.."

He's not gonna do it.

I can't believe I'm not gonna do it.

With a smirk and his inky eyes fixed upon hers, he slowly inched away from her. The warmth that had been created by their bodies in the small space they had shared, was now filled with the crisp air of the cold night. She stared at him longingly, taking in every inch of his height, his dazzling smile and his soft hair, with that one perfect curl resting ever so softly upon his forehead. She wondered how that curl would feel, tickling her own forehead as he wrapped her up in his warm embrace, his soft lips pressed to hers. Sadly, she was not to experience that this evening, and her heart thumped a staggered couple of beats in protest.

With another 'goodnight' and a gentle wave, they both returned to their cars. Michael sat in silence as he watched Zoey drive off into the evening. His head fell forward, plowing into the steering wheel, as he groaned in misery at his (yet again) missed opportunity.

The anticipation? Was killing him.

__________________________________________________ ___________


Zoey had a busy, hellacious week at the bakery. It seemed like everybody picked the 2nd week of November to get married, have anniversaries, or have birthdays. She wasn't one to speak though, as Thursday snuck up on her. Her own birthday. Her 20th birthday.

She had not been able to meet up with Michael all week. Between working 14-16 hours at the bakery, and his meetings with record people, there wasn't any time left in the day to go to the park. They made sure to speak on the phone every night, though. Even if it was only for 30 minutes, Zoey would curl up in her bed, the receiver pressed to her ear, listening to his smooth voice flow down her side of the line. One night, she listened to Michael for over an hour, telling her of the process of having the album released. The day before, he had done the photoshoot for the album cover. She silently got all fangirly and swoony when he described his attire: a white suit, with a black shirt and black belt, and laughed hysterically at him recalling the story about how the baby tiger cub kept piddling all over the floor. A couple of times, she asked him to lull her to sleep with his voice.

"Just keep talking..." she had croaked, groggily.

"Until when?" Michael laughed.

"Until I don't answer back...."

And so he had.

Thursday was now upon her, her birthday. Zoey had been in to work super early that morning, around 5:30 am. Maddie was forcing her to be finished by a reasonable hour, so they could go out and have a simple dinner to celebrate. They had gone to a really wonderful Mexican bistro, and Zoey had positively stuffed herself with chips, guacamole, burritos and fajitas. She waddled into her house late that night, the misery of her gluttony setting in.

After a quick shower and a short game of fetch with Sophie (yes, pigs play fetch!), Zoey flopped into her bed just in time for the phone to shrilly ring in her ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

Her insides lit up. "Hi Mike!"

"Happy Birthday! I've been calling you all night!"

"Thanks...I've been at work since 5:30 and then went straight out to dinner with Maddie. I. Am. So. FULL." She groaned. 'I thought he didn't celebrate birthdays...'

She could sense him shaking his head at her silliness on his end of the line. After a short exchange about their days, he began phase 1 of her Birthday Surprise. "The Bait".

"Zoey, are you free on Sunday?"

"Of course." She didn't dare make any plans, as she was hoping to spend it with Michael.

"I'm gonna take you somewhere. But I can't tell you where. Just be ready by 9:00 am, okay?"

"You gotta give me more than that, Mike." Her curiosity was piqued.

"Nope! Oh, and how do you spell your name?"

"Why?"

"I need to know."

"Why do you need to know," she teased, intentionally being sassy.

"Cause I do! And besides, if you don't tell me, I'll just guess, and I can tell you I'm an awful speller, so I make no guarantees on what I'll come up with."

"Z-o-e-y J-a-n-s-e-n." She could hear him scribbling it down.

"That's what I would have guessed."

"Oh, stop." She flipped over on the bed, her face aching from smiling so hard.

"Okay...so. Sunday. 9:00. Be ready."

"For what? Can you at least tell me how I should dress?"

"Comfortable."

"Like, comfortable pajamas, or comfortable sneakers?"

His heart skipped a sinful beat at the thought of her in pajamas.

"Comfortable, as in...bet on doing a lot of walking."

"Now we're getting somewhere."

They hashed out the final details of Michael's secret excursion, including Zoey giving him the directions to her house. He was picking her up. Like a proper date. She kicked her feet in glee against the bed, whilst trying to keep her voice calm and collected. They continued to chat for a bit longer, each mapping out the rest of their week. Meeting up at the park didn't look likely, as they were swamped with work. Zoey, finishing up her orders at the bakery, and Michael, still in meetings with promotional people, lawyers and label executives. They promised to talk on the phone every night until Sunday, until Zoey's belated birthday date.

It couldn't come fast enough.

__________________________________________________ ______________


*rrraaaap* *rrraaaaaaappp*

She sat on the couch, nervously drumming her stubby fingernails on the top of her reclaimed barn wood side table. 9:01am. She had been up since around 7, enough time to shower, dry her hair and pick out something "comfortable". She remembered what Michael had said about plenty of walking, and deduced that they would most likely be outside. After nearly 4 outfit changes, she finally settled on what she felt comfortable in; snug jeans, a fitted white t-shirt under her emerald green jacket, and sneakers. She plopped herself on the couch, where she tried to bide the time watching some old sitcoms on the television. Sophie sat next to her on the couch, curled up and snoozing.

Finally, at 9:04, she heard her doorbell make its familiar melodic chime. She shot up from her seat so fast she scared Sophie, who ran off squeaking down the hallway, her hooves rapidly clicking on the hardwood floor. She quickly checked herself in the wall mirror, straightening her jacket, running her hands through her hair, before making her way to the front door. She could see his tall silhouette through the paneled windows on the top half of her door, and her breath caught in her throat a little at the sight. She hadn't seen him in nearly a week, which had felt like forever. The butterflies in her stomach perked up, fluttering madly, sending her nerves into overdrive. Slowly, she opened the front door, her eyes finally settling onto what they had craved the most these past several days.

He wore a sexy smirk, as he leaned to the right, resting his shoulder up on the door frame, his long legs casually crossed at the ankles, hands in his pocket, peering down at her. Though even in this smoldering stance, she could sense his nervousness.

Lord help me, but this man is fine.

Michael was dressed similar to her, jeans fitting him to perfection, a black button down shirt, a blue jacket and loafers. His charcoal eyes were masked by his aviator shades, his curly hair hanging loose but perfect, that one perfect curl having found its usual spot on his forehead.

He quickly flicked off his shades. With her, he didn't feel like he needed to hide behind them.

"Hello," he said softly, though the glee in his voice was apparent.

"Hello," she answered back. Her insides were about to boil over.

"Are you ready?" He clapped his hands, and rubbed them together in eager anticipation.

"You tell me!" She laughed, and made a quick little "ta-da!" pose, seeking his approval for her outfit.

Michael scrunched up his face and arched an eyebrow, as he tapped his right forefinger to his chin, feigning deep thought. "It's not quite right..."

Her heart sunk as her arms flopped down to her sides in dejection. "Wha?.....you said to dress comfortable..." She pulled an exaggerated frown.

"No, no...the outfit is fine, but something is missing." He snapped his fingers. "I know what it is! That shirt is just....no good."

"No good?" She was so confused. She glanced down at her simple white shirt, smoothing her hands over the fabric atop her stomach.

"No good." He reached down for a shopping bag he had concealed off to the side of the door, and handed it to her, all shy and sheepish. "I think this will be more appropriate. Happy Birthday Zoey."

"I thought you didn't observe birthdays!"

He shrugged. "I made an exception."

Slowly, with a skeptical smirk, she took the bag from him and peeked inside. It was a lump of fabric, but with some sort of design on it that she couldn't make out. She pulled it out, letting the bag fall to the floor. She gave the fabric a few gentle shakes, letting it fan out and fall into place. It was a tee shirt, but it was backwards. She flipped it around quickly, her eyes growing wide as saucers when she saw an iconic logo on the front.

He didn't.

He wasn't.

"No...." she said, her enthusiasm about to erupt, as she crumpled up the shirt, clutching it close to her chest, lightly hopping up and down on both feet.

"Yes."

"NO....." Prepare for explosion in 3....2...1.....

" Yesss...... Now go change so we can get there!" He chuckled.

Zoey gave a whoop and a holler, before launching herself into him, her arms wrapping around his neck, and the force of her body making them both stagger backwards. Giggling, they stumbled until Michael caught both of their balances, his arms wrapped around her petite waist. She broke away from him, still screaming out of pure elation, as she grabbed his hand to drag him inside the doorway.

"Wait here while I go change!!!" She ran off down the hallway, her arms up in the air, wildly waving her new shirt in a windmill motion. Michael could have died laughing at the sight, this madwoman screaming like a banshee, and giggling like a maniac.

He gave her living room a quick one over. It was so...Zoey. So warm, so cozy and inviting. The colors, the fabrics, the furniture. Everything in this room had a bit of her in it. He saw a quick movement at the bottom of one of the doorways toward the end of the hallway Zoey had run down. It was little Sophie, peeking her head out. Michael gave a gentle wave at the sassy pink piglet, though Sophie was unimpressed. One ear perked up to the right, before she turned around and disappeared back into the room with a rude snort, snout high in the air. What a diva. He didn't have much time to get lost in Zoey's space, as only about 17 seconds later, she bounded out of the hallway bathroom, comically waltzing her way to the front door where he was waiting.

"Better?" She asked, her arms widespread, showing off her new gift.

Michael looked at his girl from head to toe, trying to memorize this moment, when he had made her so happy. He wanted to be responsible for these kinds of moments with her...always. He scanned her new outfit, now complete with her crisp new Mickey Mouse tee shirt, and gave a nod of approval. Clearly, she had yanked the shirt over her head in haste, as several strands of hair statically stood on end. Laughing, he reached out to cup his large hands over her head, smoothing them down the curves of her waves, ridding her of the electricity. She trembled under his touch, embarrassed at how much of a nutter she must have looked like, hair all sticking up on end.

"Now we're ready!"

They strolled through the courtyard of the buildings, making their way to Michael's car that waited outside the front gates to the community. She noticed a man standing outside the car, leaning up against it. She figured it must be Bill, Michael's head of security. Some place as public as Disneyland—Michael had to have some kind of protection with him. Bill was more than that though. He was more like a father figure to Michael, that just happened to be able to kick some serious butt, if need be.

Zoey walked along side Michael as they approached the car. Bill gave her a warm smile, and held out his hand for a friendly shake.

"Morning Zoey, I'm Bill. I've heard a lot about you." Michael had been right, this man just exuded strength and protection, even though he wasn't exactly a spring chicken.

"Likewise Bill. Nice to finally meet you."

Zoey and Michael crawled into the back seat, while Bill rounded the car to the driver's side. As they eased out onto the street, Zoey was in pure bliss for two reasons. One, to finally be going to Disneyland, and two...and perhaps, more importantly...she was back with him. Sitting next to him in the car, breathing in his fresh, spicy scent and letting her senses become a puddle of goo in his overwhelming presence. She looked up to him, the golden morning sunlight cascading off his caramel features, his flawless skin. His tightly curled hair flicked back and forth from the wind seeping through the windows being slightly cracked open. He felt her gaze and looked down to capture it, though his eyes were once again masked by those gorgeous shades.

He leaned in, his lips nearing her ear.

"I've missed you," he whispered, before leaning back.

"Me too," she mouthed back, feeling the blush creep up yet again.

She gently snuggled up to his side, her hand brushing his, but not latching on. They stayed stuck to each other the rest of the drive there, keeping their bodies close, the wind whipping through the car, grabbing locks of Zoey's hair and sending it into Michael's face, tickling his nose and neck.

Today was going to be the best day ever.