Chapter 4

Jon just hoped he hadn't already, Jon thought. Jon made his way down the path to the meadow, walking out into the clearing. At first he didn't see anything and thought he had missed her. Then he saw four black legs come up from the tall grass. Jonboy was on his back. Jon walked towards the horse hoping Meg was close by.

The horse heard him and stood up, causing Meg to sit up and see what Jonboy was looking at. She had been lying in the grass, but now she just sat there looking at him. At least she didn't run.

Jon walked over to her and asked, “May I sit down?”

Somehow Megan didn’t think Jon had use the words ‘may I’ in a long time. But she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Besides, Jonboy would protect her if needed.

“Sure.”

Sitting down Jon said, "Meg, I am so sorry. Did I hurt you? I just don't remember. I don't think I did since a certain part of me hurts."

Jon had to adjust his crotch a bit when he sat down, so Meg took pity on Jon, since he looked so bad and said, "No, I was just frightened last night, but I hope I didn't hurt you, too bad."

Jon looked down at his crotch, then back at Meg, "I'm sure I deserved it, but I'll live." Jon took one of her hands and studied it, turning it over looking at her palm and fingertips. Honest hands, hardworking. Not long nailed, fickle hands like the women in his life now. Groupies, movie stars, models.

“What? Are you going to tell me my fortune?” she asked jokingly. Not giving him a chance to answer, Meg laid back down in the grass, pulling Jon down with her, and asked, "Jon, tell me about being famous. What's it like?"

Jon, holding onto her hand like a lifeline, proceeded to tell her about his life as a rock star. The highs, the lows. His dissatisfaction with their manager. The dissension within the band. Jon explained the partying after the concerts, the groupies, the sex anytime he wanted it.

“I don’t even know where to start,” Jon started. “I mean, ya, being famous is something I always wanted. To be a rock star. I worked my ass off to make that happen.”

He faded out for a sec and Meg waited him out. Jon took her hand again, like he needed her strength.

“By the third album the ‘Bon Jovi’ machine was a thing. Our manager had us touring practically non stop, for at least four years. Which is why I am here now. We are all burnt out. I was tired of the non stop vultures, be they girls wanting sex, drugs, or money, to the people from the record company.” Jon stopped and took a breath. His anxiety level was rising. “This is part of why I have a real problem with getting close to people or having them touching me, hugging me, or even shaking my hand.”

Megan could feel his stress in talking about this. His hand was trembling.

"That may explain what I was thinking when you came in. I probably thought I was in a hotel room and one of the roadies found me a girl. I am sorry, Meg. My life is a mess, out of control."

She just squeezed Jon's hand in understanding.

He brought her hand to his lips, kissing it. Then, laying her arm back down, Jon rolled over on his side and looked down into her face.

"Thank you for listening. I really needed someone to talk to with no 'I told you so' or 'Just suck it up'."

"You're welcome." Meg whispered, as she laid there, looking up into his face. He was truly gorgeous. Blond eyebrows, dark blue eyes, straight nose. Jon leaned over her, resting his other hand on her hip and kissed her. A long, sensual kiss. She wasn't afraid this time. Before things could get too far, Jonboy came up and got in the middle of things.

The two of them laughed, breaking the spell. "Oh, I almost forgot," pulling out the carrots, "here. I brought these." Meg gave the carrots to the buttinsky of a horse. Jonboy shook his head up and down in happiness.

"Meg," Jon asked suddenly, "why did you come to my room last night?"

"I had a mare foaling last night and I thought you might like to watch. It is a beautiful experience," she replied. Standing up, she said, "I need to get back. Coming?"

"Absolutely,"Jon said as he stood up, and together we walked back to the barn. “So was it a boy or a girl?”

“What was a boy or a girl?”

“The baby horse?”

Boy his terminology needed to be worked on. “Oh. The mare had a colt. A little boy foal.”

“Nice.”

As they were walking Jon took hold of her hand again, pulling it close to him, so that her arm was under his, up against his side. Jon just looked at it, running the pads of his thumbs across her palms. "I love your hands," he said.

"You're kidding? Right?" Meg exclaimed, trying to retrieve her hand, but he wouldn't let go. "They are calloused, dry, red, with chipped fingernails."

"No I'm not. I see honesty, hard working, caring, nurturing. The women I've known with well groomed hands were fickle, deceitful, jumping from one rock star to another."

Jon stopped, put both of her hands in his and asked, "Meg, I would like to get to know you. I want to ask your permission to spend time with you. I'm asking because I don't want you to think I'm just a famous person trying to get into your pants and then leave or something."

Meg looked up at Jon, searching his blue eyes. She still felt this pull towards him, like fate had put us together. He made her feel beautiful.

"I'd like that," she said, as she let go of his hands and moved in closer, putting her arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss. Meg’s hands tangled in his long, wavy blond hair. Jon wrapped his arms around her, tight, actually picking her up off her feet. Jonboy, being the wonderful chaperon that he was, nudged us, bringing us back to earth. Jonboy hated not being the center of attention.