by Jewel, Bella
“Oh I see it,” I huff. “I’m real familiar with how mean a bottle of Johnnie Walker can make a man.”
“That the reason you never talk about why Spencer’s daddy ain’t around?”
“Yeah, that’s the reason,” I say folding my arms over my chest. “Because, it’s a long painful road that I walked away from and one that I don’t wanna have to revisit. And considering where you been, Jake Tucker, I thought you might know something about that.”
“What’s his name?”
“It don’t matter.”
“It matters,” he says through his teeth. “Believe me, it matters.”
“Why? You gonna go to Charleston, find him, and beat the crap outta him for hurtin’ me? The best thing you can do for me is to not become him.” I take a deep breath and wonder why we’re talkin’ about me at all when there’s clearly more important things going on right here. “Why didn’t you show up at my house yesterday? And why are you drinking in the middle of the day?”
“Day, night, it don’t matter. The nightmares don’t stop unless I’m three fuckin’ sheets to the wind.”
I sigh and grab the washcloth from a rack. Running warm water over it, I wring out the excess and crouch down to his level. “Give me your hand.” He shakes his head. “Give me your goddamn hand, Jake.”
He doesn’t extend it out to me, but he doesn’t pull away either when I grab his forearm. I get a good glimpse of the damage he’s done. He don’t need stitches, far as I can tell.
I gently start wiping at the mess and get to my feet a few times to rinse out the washcloth. As the blood is washed away, his scars become more pronounced. This is the first time I’m seeing him in a shirt that doesn’t have long sleeves. It makes me want to cry because his skin is a patchwork of pain. It tells a story of hate and unimaginable cruelty, but there is splendor in it, too. There’s a tale of courage, survival, immeasurable strength, and beauty in the face of such ugliness. They tried to destroy him, and they failed.
I trace my finger over the deepest scar on his forearm and blink back tears. Jake’s whole body stiffens. I decide it’s best not to push him any further by touching him again, but that don’t mean I’m going to go easy on him either. “So, you got any rubbing alcohol? Or did you drink that too?”
He closes his eyes and leans back against the tub. “Under the sink.”
I pull out the rubbing alcohol and a first-aid kit and get to work disinfecting and bandaging the worst of his wounds. He hisses when I place soaked cotton to the cuts, but he don’t say much beyond that. I take several towels from the rack and lay them across the worst of the broken glass. I’ll go in search of a dustpan soon, but right now I need him away from sharp objects and anything else that might cause him harm.
“Okay, Marine, on your feet.” I gently grasp his arm and help him stand. He’s not the easiest man to move, but somehow we manage. “Let’s get you to bed.”
“Words I never thought I’d hear coming from those sweet lips of yours,” he slurs as I lead him out of the bathroom and over to the bed.
“Knock it off, Jake.” Not that a part of me isn’t thrilled to hear those words—my vagina is doin’ cartwheels in my panties right now—but I have no intention of letting him see that. I won’t be with a man juiced up on liquor. Been there, done that, got the emotional scars to prove it.
I shove him back on the bed. His big body lands with an “oomph,” and I bend to scoop up one leg at a time and place them on the mattress that he barely even fits on.
“I knew you weren’t a Bama girl. What are you doin’ so far from home, Elle? Livin’ on struggle street all alone with your boy. I bet there’s a hint of that entitled little South Carolina rich bitch in you still. Wanna know what it feels like to play with a man from the wrong side of the tracks?”
“No. I don’t. I’ve played with those kinds of men before, and it always leaves a mark.”
Jake is hardly from the wrong side of the tracks. I don’t know much about how he grew up, but I was willing to bet he’d inherited this house from his granddaddy. The house itself isn’t even that old, but this land is worth a fortune. I know that much. It might be a long way from Water Street, Charleston, but it is certainly a departure from Struggle Street, as he’s been so kind to point out.
I draw the curtains and cover him with the rumpled up top sheet hanging from the edge of the bed.
“Haven’t you babied me enough for one day?”
“That depends. Are you done behaving like a child?”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Leave me alone, Elle.”
“I ain’t leaving, because I don’t trust you not to hurt the Jake I actually do like. He’s still in there somewhere, soaked to the bone with liquor, and this guy? This hotshot bad boy Marine? He isn’t that Jake. He’s just a sad, lonely man lookin’ for someone to lash out at. So you can say whatever you want to me, Jake Tucker. It don’t matter, ’cause all of it is the Johnnie talking, and all of it is just a front for how alone you feel.” I turn out the lamp and head for the door. “Sleep it off. When you feel like hell for every harsh word you said, you come see me. I’ll be in your kitchen when you wanna act like a real man.”
“Hoity-toity bitch,” he grumbles, sinking farther into the pillows.
“Nasty drunk,” I fire back, and order Nuke onto the bed with him, and then I leave and close the bedroom door behind me.
* * *
By six, he still hasn’t woken, and though he don’t deserve it, I bring him supper. I had to do a little shuffling throughout the day, cancelling my appointments and asking Olivia to pick up Spence. Ordinarily he would hate that kind of change to the routine, but Olivia means dogs, which means Spence is well taken care of and happy to be there.
I set the tray on the bedside table. I’ve already been in here two hours ago to let Nuke out to do his business while I cleaned the puke from the floor. Jake had reached out to me, but I had no desire to pander to this man’s whims. I only cleaned up the mess so it wouldn’t stain the carpet. He hadn’t really been lucid then, but now the scent of food rouses him. He opens his eyes and groans.
“Brought you some soup and biscuits,” I say cheerily.
He sighs and then mumbles with a deep, croaking voice, “What’re you still doing here?”
“They breed those hoity-toity bitches tough in Charleston,” I say, drawing the burgundy leather wingback chair closer to the bed. It was heavier than it looked, but I wasn’t about to show him that. “So if you wanna get rid of me, you’re gonna have to try harder.”
“I’m a piece of shit, Elle. You shouldn’t be wasting your time on me.”
“Why? Because you’re here and they ain’t?”
“I bet you could start a fight in an empty house, couldn’t ya?” He grits his teeth, and I can see I’ve hit a nerve. “You don’t know shit about it.”
“You’re right, I don’t, because you won’t let me in unless you’re as drunk as Cooter Brown. I know you don’t wanna relive it, and you probably don’t want to hear what I’m going to say, but as the woman who just cleaned your puke up off the floor, I think I have a right to be heard. You ain’t broken, and you ain’t alone. Me and Spence ain’t goin’ anywhere. So you can say as many ugly things as that beautiful brain of yours can come up with, but you can’t scare me away. I got your number, Jake Tucker. And I’m warnin’ you now, I don’t give up on the people I care about.”
“Do you know what my granddaddy told me when I deployed after being promoted to Staff Sergeant? He said, ‘You got five men under your command, Sergeant; you make sure you bring ’em all home.’ Do you know how many I brought home?” A bitter laugh fills the space between us. “None. I didn’t even come home. I left a piece of myself back there in that desert and I can’t ever get it back. So you best let go of the idea that you can fix me, because this is all that’s left. War raped me in the ass with a fucking AK47, and I’m riddled with too many holes to tape a Band-Aid over. I got nothin’ left worth saving.”
“You don’t?” he says gruffly. I suspect he’s still a little drunk, and he’s definitely still angry. Maybe he’s pissed at me for callin’ him out, maybe he’s angry with himself, and maybe he has a right to be. But he also has a right to live and not feel guilty because of it.
“Nope, I don’t.” I sit forward, grab the spoon from the tray, and fill it with chicken noodle broth.
“I don’t need you to feed me, Elle. I’m not a fucking kid,” he snaps, turning his head away just like Spence used to as a baby.
“You got somethin’ against my cookin’?”
“It’s emasculating.”
“My cooking? Or having someone look after you?” I ask, and he scowls. I set the spoon down. “I feel sorry for you, Jake. You’ve spent so long building that wall around yourself that you don’t even know that every day since we met I’ve been chipping away at that thing and I finally made a hole. I let the light back in.”
He swallows hard, and I know he knows it’s true. He won’t admit to it though, so I get to my feet and walk to the door. Jake won’t listen to reason tonight, and I have another man to tend to. I’ve never missed a tuck-in yet, and I don’t plan on missing one now.
“If you were smart, you’d stay away,” he warns, quietly.
“If you were smart, you’d beg me not to,” I say from the doorway. “Finish that broth and take your dog out. I’ll see you in the morning, Jake.”
I collect my keys and purse, and the extra soup I packed up for my dinner from the dining table on my way out. In truth, I’m not so sure about leaving him by himself, but my son needs me. I can’t do any more for Jake than what I’ve already done.
I just hope it’s enough.
17
Jake
Ellie hasn’t been by in two days. Not at the park, and not at my front door. I know I don’t deserve her kindness after being so cruel, but it’s making me crazy not being able to see her right now.
Everything she’d said was right. She has been chipping away at those walls and she’s broken through, and I should have begged her to stay. I thought she’d meant it when she’d said she’d be back to check on me the next day, and though I didn’t deserve it, I’d been gutted when she hadn’t shown. I’ve found a woman who understands me, who doesn’t care if I am damaged or scarred, and I’ve found a kid who makes me feel like I have a reason for sticking around. It doesn’t matter that I won’t take those steps to make Ellie mine, even though I want to, because neither one of them looks at me like I am damaged goods.
There isn’t a single person in this town who looks at me and doesn’t see a fucked up POW. Somehow though, when Ellie and Spencer look, they just see me.
But I’ve gone and cocked it all up. I can’t just go over there. If she wanted me in their lives, she’d have come to see me. She’s been hurt before, that much was clear from day one, and she has her son to think about. I don’t blame her for changing her mind where I’m concerned.
I gotta get out of here. Take a walk and clear my head.
My body aches today. My whole left side feels like a live wire, and the shrapnel embedded in my leg feels like it’s on the move again, so as much as I ache and my muscles protest, I get up from my chair and fix Nuke’s lead to his collar and we head out.
Only the second my shoes hit the pavement that nice, relaxing walk is all but forgotten. We start out jogging, but it’s an all-out run before I’ve cleared the driveway. Nuke keeps up with me and before long I’m pushing through the pain and picking up even more speed. I follow the same route I take every day, only this time I run right past North Beach Park and keep on runnin’ until we reach the end of the pier, then we both come to a gasping, halting stop. A couple of locals enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon sun on the pier give me strange looks, but that’s not unusual.
We pant, me doubled over and Nuke lying down on the salt-ravaged pier, his large tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. I reach over and scratch his ear while I catch my breath for several beats. Every part of me hurts. I think I moved all the damn shrapnel in my left side. I laugh as I imagine it all shiftin’ around like little staples in a box. Or magnets, all ripping through my muscles to join together. I stare out at Mobile Bay and take a few deep breaths, wanting a long soak in Epsom salts to ease the aches and pains, but I’ll likely shower and fall asleep on the couch.
After pushing myself like that, the part I loathe is the walk home. I look down at Nuke. “Come on, buddy.”
He seems as impressed with this idea as I am, but if we don’t go while my muscles are still warm, we might be spending the night on this pier or sleeping beneath it. I tend to seize up after a hard run. That don’t stop me doing it from time to time.
Instead of going back the way we came, I head toward the center of town. I don’t know why. Something just tells me to go that way. I’m approaching the bank on S Section Street, across from the French Quarter, when I spot Elle, withdrawing money from the ATM. I slow and yank on Nuke’s collar for him to stop. She isn’t alone. Spencer sits in the back seat of her car parked at the curb, waiting, and a man with tattoos, a ripped T-shirt, and a shaved head crowds her in as he leans his arm against the wall. She hands him the wad of bills, and he sneers and spits on the ground beside her. A muscle in my cheek twitches. He grabs her arm and leads her to the car, and in three seconds flat I find myself standing behind them both.
“Elle?” I say. She don’t turn around. In fact, she reaches for the car’s door handle, but he’s blocking her way. “You okay here?”
“She’s fine. Fuck off,” the guy says, stepping out around her.
“Just leave it, Jake.” Ellie turns and meets my gaze for only a second, and then she glances at the ground, pulling her purse up on her shoulder as tears roll down her face. She’s sportin’ one hell of a black eye and a puffy cheek.
“Son-of-a-bitch,” I hiss and move toward him. No one should get to lay a hand on a woman and not get their ass beaten for it.
Ellie steps in front of me. “No, Jake, just walk away. Please.”
“He did this to you?”
“Yeah, I did it,” he snarls. “Imagine my surprise when I get out of prison, finally track down my wife two states over, and see she’s been fuckin’ some freak soldier boy while I been locked away up in Estill.”
My gaze cuts to Ellie. “Wife?”
“Jake,” she sobs. “I can explain.”
“I can explain,” he mocks in a high-pitched voice. “You gonna explain to me, darlin’, why you were letting another man fuck you in front of my kid? Even if he is a fuckin’ little retard, you got everythin’ that was comin’ to you.”
I shift my weight onto my left foot and slam my fist into the side of his face with a clean upper-cut. He rocks back with the blow and drops like a sack of shit, and then I lay into him with my foot to his gut, his ribs, and his face, until I know that asshole is out cold and ain’t going nowhere. Behind me, Elle screams. Nuke nudges my side in an attempt to bring me back, and Spencer wails from the backseat.
I’m breathing hard, and I have to wrestle with my head that’s tellin’ me to finish him, but I turn and see the fear on their faces and the fight to come back from that darkness, that place where I become machine trained by the United States Marines and no longer man, just vanishes. I’m shakin’, not from the adrenaline or the fight, but from their reaction to the monster inside me. I scan the street. Everyone is watching. I swallow hard and walk towards Ellie. She gasps, placing her hand over her mouth to hide her shock.
“Get in the car.”
Her eyes grow wide as dinner plates, and her whole body trembles. “You can’t just leave him there like that.”
I move closer and she shrinks back against the passenger-side door. “Give me the keys, Elle, and get in the car.”
Her eyes dart back to her husband on the ground. I know he hasn’t gotten up yet. No one ever got up that quick after a KO. “Jake.”
&nb
sp; “Get in the goddamn car!”
With shaking hands, she holds out the keys for me and climbs in the passenger side. I open the door to the back seat and order Nuke to jump up, and then I round the car and climb into the driver’s seat and start the ignition. No one utters a word as we drive, though Ellie and Spencer both quietly sob’. I pull the car to a stop outside of the Fairhope Police Department.
“What are we doing here?” Ellie says, fishing a Kleenex out of her purse.
I shut off the car and pull the keys from the ignition. “You’re filing a restraining order.”
“No, Jake,” she says. “Just take us home.”
“He hit you before?” I ask. She nods. “He ever hit Spence?
“No.”
“He will. You stay with him, you do nothing about this, and he’ll just keep coming. He’ll keep lashing out with his fists until he kills you both.”
“Jake,” she warns, turning to check on Spencer, who is snuggled up to Nuke’s fur and cryin’ softly.
“Mamma,” he whimpers. “Is my daddy gonna kill us?”
“Shh, Spencer, no,” she sobs. “He ain’t gonna hurt us again.”
I clench my jaw so tight I hear my teeth groan. “I’m gonna take you in there. You’ll file a report, and then you’ll come stay with me for a few days.”
“I can’t do that. Spence has school. There’s a million things I have to do at home.”
“I’m ain’t giving you a choice, Elle.” I climb out of the car and walk around to the passenger side. Opening her door, I wait for her to get out. She does, reluctantly, and then she opens Spencer’s door. The kid gives me a wide birth and surprises us both by grabbing onto his mother’s legs. I’ve scared the hell out of them. I would have preferred that they never saw me that way, but I can’t do nothin’ about it now. All I can do is try and make the violence right. I can protect them from some douchebag ex-con, but it won’t do no good if she’s dead. I don’t think a piece of paper is gonna do shit in the way of keepin’ her safe, but her husband is a convicted felon, so it might mean the difference between him being picked up or not.