Hard Corps (Selected Sinners MC #7) Page 34

  We remained together up to the point Graham died. She blamed me solely for his accident; and after his funeral we separated. A matter of one day after his funeral, I left for training. She hadn’t spoken to me since, nor did I have any expectation of her doing so. Shelley and Graham were like brother and sister, and Graham’s death was far more difficult for her to accept than anyone else. No one quite understood the connection between them, or the pain she felt, but I did. She and Graham were like family.

  “I’m sorry you feel the way you do about it all, Shell. I suppose I reserved a little hope you’d feel different about it now. I’ve never refused to believe what happened actually happened, but I chose to set the memory of it aside. I guess at least until the other day. I uhhm,” I paused and thought of how to word the remaining portion of my question without giving too much information away.

  “Graham’s bike was green, wasn’t it?” I asked.

  Since opening the chest and driving to her house, I had begun to remember things about my former life I hadn’t remembered in years. If someone would have asked me two-weeks prior what color Graham’s bike was, I wouldn’t have been able to answer. Now, I was recalling things about my early years with each tick of the clock.

  “You know what color it was,” she growled as she stood from the couch.

  “Shell, if I did, I wouldn’t have asked. Like I said, it’s really difficult for me. I have a hard time remembering any of that part of my life,” I said as I stood.

  She turned to face me and scowled, “Yes, dark green. Is that why you came here?”

  I pulled the ball cap tightly onto my head and crossed my arms, “Not entirely. I thought I saw Graham’s old bike the other day, but with a few different parts on it. I wasn’t sure. I knew you bought it from his parents after the wreck, but I wasn’t sure what you ever did with it.”

  “It’s gone,” she grunted.

  “Well, is it around here?” I asked.

  She shrugged, “Hard sayin’, I suppose it could be.”

  “What did you do with it?” I asked.

  “I gave the motherfucker away, Jak. After fifteen years, I couldn’t stand to look at it anymore,” she snapped.

  I better leave that one alone for now.

  “You ever get married?” I asked.

  She crossed her arms and sighed, “No, and it’s none of your business, Jak. Jesus, why’d you come here? To cause me pain? Maybe you should go.”

  “I just wanted to ask about the bike. It was a Harley, right?” I asked.

  “Just stop, Jak. Please,” she paused and placed her hands on her hips.

  “Why didn’t you respond to my letters, Jak?” she sniffed.

  “What letters?” I asked

  “The letters, Jak. Don’t be stupid. I wrote you for a year. You never responded. Maybe once a month for a while, then I wrote once a week for a few months. I never heard from you,” she reached toward her cheek and wiped a tear from her face.

  “I didn’t read any of my letters. Not a one, Shell. I tossed them out. To be honest, I completed the training not so much for me, but for Graham. At least that’s what I told myself. I felt if I had any influence from the real world, or felt any of the emotion from all of this, I wouldn’t make it through the training. For me, failure wasn’t an option. It would have been like I was letting Graham down. He wanted me to be a SEAL as bad as I wanted it. So if you wrote me, I’m sorry. I never read them,” I said shamefully.

  I truly began to feel sorry for Shelley. More than twenty years had passed and she was still in the same place mentally as she was when I left. Regardless, I needed answers. No matter what her response was, I was quite certain considering all things I’d never see her again. She hated me anyway, and I was ready to bring this visit to a close.

  “I heard you had a daughter,” I said softly as I turned toward the door.

  Her face covered with wonder, she responded, “Who told you that? I thought you didn’t read the letters?”

  “I didn’t Shell. I saw a guy in town, Little Petey. He said you had a daughter. What’s your daughter’s name, Shell?” I asked over my shoulder as I approached the door.

  “Her name’s Karter, Jak. She changed her last name,” she said angrily.

  Facing the door, I heard her begin to cry. As I stood and contemplated leaving, she said one more thing. One single thing that changed everything, “Jak she’s our daughter.”

  My heart sank. My head spun. This couldn’t be. She was twenty-one. I was thirty-eight. I wouldn’t be thirty-nine for another five months. I joined the Navy when I was I was seventeen, in January 1993. Karter’s age made it almost impossible for her to be…

  Fuck.

  It was possible. It was probable. It began to make sense. I turned to face Shell. I felt hot. I began to shiver. I turned toward the doorway. My stomach convulsed.

  “Yeah, Jak. You have a daughter.”

  And I vomited.

  JAK. “Jak I don’t know how I’m going to help you, I really don’t,” he sighed from across the large living room.

  “Commander, this isn’t something I want. I need this. I just hopped on a commercial bird and flew here from Kansas. I haven’t slept in almost thirty-six hours. This is critical,” I shouted.

  He began to plead, “Jak, I’d love to help, I’m just afraid…”

  I was a degree of angry I had never known. The thought of the woman I deeply loved being my daughter was something I was currently incapable of comprehending or dealing with. The pain I felt when I considered not spending my life with Karter was enough to bring me to the brink of suicide. Daughter or not, I loved Karter. I loved her even now. Try as I might, I could not change how I felt.

  The crushing pain weighing down on my breaking heart far exceeded the guilt and self-imposed blame from all of the men I had killed combined. Denying she was my daughter didn’t change anything. Over the last twelve hours, I attempted to accept the fact she was my daughter. All of the events began to make sense. As a matter of fact, it was almost undeniable. Karter was my daughter. I forced myself to believe it, yet I still loved her with all of my being. Now filled with tremendous guilt for loving the woman I had planned on spending a lifetime loving and cherishing caused me to feel ill. Feeling ill for loving her made me angry. I loved Karter and it was beginning to infuriate me.

  The anger built up inside of me.

  And I eventually exploded.

  “Afraid? You’re afraid? The first time we went into Wardak province. The first fucking time,” I screamed.

  He stepped back two steps and looked as me as if he believed I was insane.

  “Who the fuck was the first one to volunteer?” I bellowed.

  His face was filled with worry, “Jak. It’s just…”

  “I wasn’t done speaking, Commander. Who was first?” I demanded as I began to walk closer to him.

  He raised his hands to his chest and turned his palms toward me as if to slow my approach, “You were Jak.”

  “You’re fucking right, I was. Now, do you recall how many confirmed kills I had on that mission alone? How many, Commander?” I shouted as I continued to walk his direction slowly.

  “Jak…”

  “Four. Four confirmed. You want to know about the kills not on the report, sir? Do you? Do you think I was scared?” I tossed my bag onto the floor and looked up.

  “Kandahar province. 2007. When I caught that bullet in the back of my thigh. What the fuck did I do?” I growled.

  “Jak, this isn’t about…”

  “What. The. Fuck. Did. I. Do?” I growled.

  “Jak I don’t remember…”

  “You can’t remember? Well, I’ll never fucking forget. With all due respect, the fuck you don’t remember, Commander. What did I do?”

  He took a deep breath, stared down at the floor, and sighed, “You dug the bullet out with your blade and refused treatment so you could go back in,” he sighed.

  The anger began to mount within me. I nodded my head and
crossed my arms, “Kunar province back in 2006, when we went in to save those Marines from being ambushed. Who carried three of those poor boys down that mountain? Do you sir, remember that? I sure as absolute fuck didn’t carry them all down at once, either. Remember? I went up and motherfucking down the mountain, taking fire with each trip up and each respective trip down sir. Over and fucking over as I was shot at by a hundred Al Qaeda.”

  I recalled receiving the Silver Star for my bravery in carrying the wounded Marines down the mountain from the ambush site. Gallantry in action against an enemy of the United States. My eyes began to well with tears.

  I took the last step which separated us and tightened my jaw muscles. My voice elevated even higher, “Who earned the Silver Star in that mission alone? Over almost twenty-one years sir, I was awarded the Silver Star, Bronze Star, six Purple Hearts…”

  “Jak, alright. You made your point. Exactly what do you need and when?” he asked as he raised his hands between our chests.

  “It isn’t about making my point, sir. It’s about sacrifice. I sacrificed everything. And although ultimately it was for the country, I did it because you asked me to. You. Now, the time has come for me to request a service from you. I’m asking you to pull a few strings, not break laws. Are we understood, sir?”

  I was exhausted and angry. He took a few shallow breaths and looked into my eyes, “What Jak? What and when?”

  “I already told you, I need a DNA test,” I sighed as I turned away and reached for my bag.

  He exhaled loudly, “What type of timeframe are we talking about?”

  “I need it by tomorrow,” I said as I pulled the two marked envelopes from the bag.

  “Tomorrow?” he complained.

  “You and I both know it takes less than twenty-four hours. Like I said Commander, pull a few strings,” I grunted as I tossed the envelopes on the couch beside where he stood.

  He crossed his arms, “If it’s siblings or distant…”

  “It’s father-daughter. A simple test,” I said as I tossed the two envelopes on the couch beside where he stood.

  “You in some kind of a mess, Jak?” he asked.

  “Have the test performed, sir. I’ll be back in the morning,” I sighed.

  KARTER. I pushed the phone into my pocket. I felt ill. I hadn’t heard from Jak in two days. One simple apologetic text message from him explaining his Commander called and he would be out of pocket for a week was all I had received since I left for the art show. On the night he proposed to me in the restaurant, something changed while I was in the bathroom. When I came back to the table, he was different. At first I thought he was nervous or having second thoughts, but it wasn’t that. He was hurting, I could tell. He didn’t say so at that point in time, but his Commander called while I was in the restroom. Now with Jak absent, the remark he made when he left bounced around in my head.

  I love you Karter, and I always will. Nothing on this earth will ever change that.

  It now caused me to worry about where he was and what he was doing.

  Jak believed the separation from each other would cause us to understand the depth of our love. I needed no lesson to understand the love I felt for Jak. My connection to him was clear since the first day we met. The time we spent together did nothing but confirm what I already knew. Jak and I were tied together by a force much greater than the love most people feel for each other. Jak and I had something no one else did. Jak and I were somehow fused together as one.

  Simply stated, I needed Jak to survive. Now standing at an art show with three hundred idiots wandering around looking at the artwork displayed in the exhibit, I felt as if I was dying. Without Jak, I struggled to breathe. My every thought included Jak in some way. I wondered where he was, if he was in danger, what he was eating, if he was thirsty, why he couldn’t text me, if he was in this country or if he had left. I wondered if he was being shot at or would be required to defend his life.

  I never asked, and he never offered, but the scars on his body obviously weren’t from accidents as a child. They were from being shot. If Jak had escaped death as many times as I expected he had, in time the laws of average would catch up to him. The thought of losing Jak consumed me. Without Jak in my life, there would be no life. Without Jak I would die.

  “So are you Karter?” A man in his mid-thirties asked.

  “Say again?” I snapped.

  Fuck, I sound like Jak.

  “Karter? The artist? Are you Karter?”

  I smiled a shitty grin and nodded. I was far from in the mood to chat.

  “I love your tattoos,” he grinned.

  You fucking idiot.

  I raised my hand in the air and pushed against the edge of my engagement ring with my thumb, rotating the large diamond to the front of my hand, “Are you blind or just fucking stupid? See this?”

  He shrugged and looked half embarrassed.

  “My Navy SEAL fiancé gave me this. You know why?”

  He scoffed, turned, and began to walk away.

  “To keep fuck-sticks like you from hitting on me,” I barked.

  The emotional cloud I was floating on the night Jak proposed to me was took me to a place higher than I had ever been. To be elevated to that height, to feel the degree of warmth from the love Jak and I shared, only to be dropped into the depth of the pit I was in now caused me to feel ill.

  If something’s happened to Jak, I’ll just die

  I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my phone. I swiped my finger across the screen. Please. I pressed the text message icon. Please.

  Nothing.

  “Karter, there’s someone over here who would like to talk to you about your work,” Mr. Weinburg smiled as he finished speaking.

  Frustrated, I pushed my phone into my pocket. Wearing a dress and heels made me angry in the first place, but wearing a dress and heels without Jak present made me even more disappointed. I tried to force a smile as I nodded and followed him across the floor.

  “You must be Karter,” the man sighed as he extended his hand, “I’m Stephen Greene.”

  He was dressed in a suit. It appeared he must have spent as much money having it tailored as he did buying it in the first place. And from the looks of the suit, it was by no means inexpensive. I looked down at his perfectly polished shoes and slowly up to his overly tanned face.

  I smiled and reached for his hand, “The one and only.”

  “I’ve perused the entire exhibit and everything I see which draws me in close has the same name at the bottom right corner. Would you like to guess who?” he grinned.

  I was in no mood to play idiotic games with stupid people. I wanted Jak. I was almost in tears as it was, and I don’t ever cry. Frustrated and desperately needing to feel Jak’s strong arms around me, I opened my mouth and spoke my mind.

  “I’m not in a good mood. To be quite honest, I feel like I may puke. If you have something to say, say it. If not, I’m going to go to the bathroom,” I said in a soft yet stern tone.

  Mr. Weinburg placed his hand on my shoulder and stepped between Mr. Greene and I, “Do you have any idea who he is?”

  “I don’t care,” I whispered.

  He cupped his hand to my ear, “Greene Street Studio in New York City, Karter. He owns it. He’s considering buying all of your art. Everything. Not consignment, he wants to purchase it.”

  “Well, sell it to him. I feel sick, I’m sorry. And I’m not in the mood to be toyed with. I’m sick and fucking tired of this place and of everyone in it,” I complained.

  “Karter, you’re a talented artist, but you’re a poor business woman. He wants to speak to you.”

  I pulled my face away from his cupped hand and shook my head, “Tell him to follow me to the bathroom. He can watch me take a shit for the fourth time today while we negotiate.”

  I nodded and smiled toward Mr. Greene and turned toward the elevator. The only thing which would even come close to making me happy would be to either see or hear from Jak. The
weekend separated from each other was the worst idea to have ever crossed my mind. As I walked down the hallway, I swore I’d never leave Jak again for any reason.

  I love you, Jak.

  I need you to pick me up.

  And let my legs dangle.

  JAK. I stopped the rental car at the end of the driveway and waited for the Commander to arrive. I hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours. Regardless of my training and experiences in sleep deprivation, the lack of sleep was wearing on me heavily. I had become even more agitated and short tempered since we had met the previous night. I looked toward the passenger seat at my bag and closed my eyes.

  I don’t come to you often, but I’m coming to you now. You started this mess, I didn’t. You put her in my life. I fought wars behind the shield of your name and your grace. I made it out alive, and not by my will. I prayed for you to take my life.

  You chose not to.

  I’m telling you now, if you take her from me, I’m not going to pray for you to take me. I’ll bow out by my own hand. I’m done with the games. I can’t continue. If she’s my daughter, the world can’t accept me loving her in this way, and I’m incapable of stopping.

  It’s not a threat Lord, It’s a promise. I’m not here to negotiate. I’m here to ask forgiveness in advance.

  If Karter was my daughter, I couldn’t simply stop loving her. To continue to actively love her would be wrong, and contrary to all things I and everyone of this earth held to be moral. Loving her was not something I had chosen to do, but more a transformation which happened within me. I made no conscious choice to make Karter my lover; I merely allowed her access to my heart. She nestled into place naturally, and there she would always remain.

  For me to live and not love Karter would be impossible. Many people on this earth are of the belief they are currently in love. In due time, most will undoubtedly become bored and wander from their existing love to another person and fall in love all over again. Feeling what true love can and does provide allows me to look at those people and their respective relationships with sorrow. I now know true love is not a once in a lifetime blessing, but something only a select few will ever know. Most people on this earth would never experience firsthand the love I felt for Karter.