Mended: A Salvation Society Novel

by Gabrielle G.

  I wanted him to know I was serious about this.

  That it wasn't insanity.

  But I know it's not fair to him as he doesn't know who my father was or that I used to race when I was a kid.

  Getting behind the wheel, my adrenaline is already high. I love the smell of cars, the feeling I have when I put the helmet on, and touch the steering wheel.

  Once the gear is on, you can't tell who I am.

  You don't know if I'm a man, or if I wear lipstick.

  You can't know people I love died and ones I like less stay alive.

  I'm not Tessa Fitzpatrick.

  I'm not Tessa VanHorn either.

  I'm just someone who wants to speed and win.

  And once on the tracks, there is no margin to fail.

  There is only the speed and your guts telling you what your next move should be.

  So I give Dereck all I have.

  In a way, I want him to see I'm my father’s daughter, and that it’s in my blood. Not that I will ever become a NASCAR driver, it's too late in my life for it.

  But local racer, yes.

  I want to be the best at it.

  I want to feel alive.

  The way my father died.

  Driving.

  Doing what I like.

  Living the life he never had.

  Once I've done the last lap, and I finally slow the car down, I'm ecstatic.

  High on hormones and happy, I applied everything I've learned during my childhood.

  That's the feeling I love the most. Being close to the legend my dad was.

  Hearing his voice when he was debriefing with his team. Something I didn't pay attention to when I was a kid, but that had a significant impact on me if I can remember each of his words almost twenty years later.

  I took the curb the way I was supposed to.

  I sped up when I needed to.

  I didn't flinch.

  I took the heat.

  I did great, and seeing the smile on Dereck's face, he agrees.

  "You really are your father’s daughter. Isn’t she?" He says with a little tear in his eyes to the guy standing beside him. I look at the stranger with mixed feelings. He looks a lot like Dereck and I wonder if he knew my father.

  “Sure does,” the stranger answers. Instead of making me sad or crushing my soul, the way it does when people speak about King, it makes me proud.

  Because no one talks about my dad and the horrific accident that happened the day he tried to break a speed record just for the fun of it.

  No one discusses the day they lost one of the best race car drivers of his generation without a good explanation.

  We moved away, and things calmed down while we weren't in the tornado the racing world was in.

  I was protected from the media, thanks to Andre's job and my stepfather adopted me so I could live a happy life, and forget.

  And it was easier to do so.

  When we came back to Virginia because Andre got a higher position at the CIA, I was someone else.

  I got my license, still loved cars but Tessa Fitzpatrick was no more.

  And Garett Fitzpatrick was a name I was told to forget.

  It took King's death for me to remember who I really was.

  That's maybe the only good thing that came from losing him.

  “Dad, I’m going.” The stranger says not wanting to impose.

  “Wait, I wanted to introduce you. Patrick, this is Tessa. Tessa, this is Patrick.” I get uncomfortable thinking Dereck is trying to set me up with his son. Something in the twinkle in his eyes tells me he would love it.

  “Nice to meet you,” I say politely.

  “Same.” And we’re more awkward than anything. “Sorry I need to leave. Maybe I’ll see you soon.” Patrick hugs his dad and leaves.

  “That’s my son.” Dereck says proudly.

  “Cool,” I answer looking at him but not knowing what to say. Dereck chuckles and sits.

  "How do you feel?" Dereck asks as I sit next to him.

  "Alive," I answer with a sigh.

  Dereck chuckles. "That's what your dad used to say." He mumbles, still not sure he can talk about my old man in front of me. I stay sitting, allowing my heartbeat to slow down and my body to rest while Dereck's staff is taking care of everything.

  "When did you move to Virginia?" I ask.

  "Around the time your father died. I couldn't do it without him. At the same time my kid started working here and I thought, why not. So here I came." His words are filled with sadness and it hits me. I won't be able to work with him if he’s sappy about the sport I love. I need someone who has more passion than nostalgia, someone who can kick my ass the days I'm sad, not someone who would cry with me.

  "Dereck, if we're to work together, you can't be sad about my father. I don't use his name for a reason. Garett Fitzpatrick was a legend, and he's missed, but I need to do this to live, to remember him, to be able to breathe. I can't have you on my team if you are going to be sentimental about it."

  "You should use his name, it will open you some doors." He simply answers, not giving me the answer I need.

  "I don’t think I can," I tell him right away.

  "You shouldn't be distracted by boys either," he continues as if I was a teenager.

  "No worries about that. I haven't had someone in a while." There is no need to tell him about King.

  "You're sure about that? Because that guy," he points with his index to a guy I recognize right away, "has been here for a while, and he seemed more worried than he should be for a no one. He reminded me of your mother the first time she came on the tracks."

  "Quinn!" I scream for my friend to come join us. "He's only a married and overbearing friend who thinks I can't hold my own," I tell Dereck loudly enough for Quinn to hear. He rolls his eyes, annoyed at me as usual.

  "If you want me to give you some wiggling room for this crazy new hobby you have, I needed to see it with my own eyes," he says, offering his hand to Dereck before introducing himself.

  "She was driving before you could walk, Son. Don't worry about her. It's in her blood."

  "Slight exaggeration on Dereck's part. Who told you I was here, Quinn?" I already know the answer. Only Green-eyes knew what I was doing today, and I made note to tell him not to share my whereabouts with the guard dog, Quinn can be.

  "Mark," he answers, and I frown, wondering how Dixon knew. "There is a situation at the office, and it seems only you can help with the new guy. Because you weren't answering your phone, he tracked you down and was going to ask one of the guys to fetch you, but I wanted to come and see you in action."

  "Can it wait? I still need to do a few things here, talk to Dereck and shower, of course." Dereck nods beside me.

  "Up to you, Murdock, but your guy kind of disappeared, and Mark is worried. Something about his ex-parent-in-law passing by his motel last night and the guy vanishing. His phone is at the motel, he's not back in New York, and we just can't find him. But I mean take your shower and shit. I'm sure Dixon can wait." The ass shrugs.

  I don't miss the fact he called Oliver, my guy, and I don't correct him.

  There is no time for that.

  After what he told me yesterday, I can't imagine facing her parents would be easy.

  Jumping to my feet, I don't pretend to play it cool and hurry to take a shower and get changed, leaving Dereck alone without any explanation about my behavior.

  Maybe he's right, I am distracted by a boy.

  A boy with green eyes.

  But I'm certainly not ready to hear yet again another lecture about it.

  Chapter Eleven

  TESSA

  As soon as I arrive at the office, I can feel the effervescence in the air.

  Mark is worried.

  If his pacing wasn’t a hint, him barking orders to anyone and everyone in his way is an excellent indication he’s not the goofy and laid-back guy he usually is.

  No one has heard from Oliver in twenty hours, and no one ha
s any idea where he is.

  “Tessa!” Mark calls out to me from his office.

  Hurrying my steps, I join him and the seat he’s pointing at without a word. “What do you know about Oliver’s whereabouts last night?”

  A redhead I don’t know is next to Mark and seems pretty familiar with him, which is unsettling as they are both wearing wedding bands. There is something familiar about her, but I’m not sure I know her from my past or from anywhere else. She’s looking at Mark, worry written on her face.

  “I dropped him off around five last night. He didn’t tell me anything. We don’t talk much.” I admit, wincing.

  “Do you do other things than talking?” The redhead asks with a little annoyance in her voice.

  Who is she to come in here, sit too close to Mark, and question my relationship with Green-eyes? Is Oliver married and the kind of guy who doesn’t wear a ring so he can bed other women? Or does he have a stupid excuse like Jenkins that when he wears his band women hit on him more?

  Uncomfortable and on the defensive, I attack back.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not sure why you care about my relationship with Oliver. Who are you exactly?” Please, don’t say his wife, I pray silently.

  “Feisty… That’s assuredly why he hasn’t jumped her yet. He prefers them easy for his one-night stands.” The redhead says. She still hasn’t looked at me, and it bothers me not to be able to look at her in the eyes and tell her what I think.

  “Anna… I don’t think Tessa is the kind to jump into bed with a guy who is passing by. Now can we focus more on the whereabouts of your brother than who he beds?” The so-called Anna shrugs and finally looks at me.

  Sister.

  Now that I see her eyes, I can see it.

  They’re the same color, the same intensity but happier. They are full of concern but not as lost as her brother’s.

  “Sorry, Anna Darling,” she smiles genuinely, “Oliver’s sister.”

  “Tessa,” I smile back, “Oliver’s driver.” She nods as if she knew about me and turned back to Mark.

  “Okay, so he didn’t call or text last night as we usually do since Elaine died. I mean, are there times we don’t call? Yes, but he usually texts me. And he didn’t call Naomi either to speak to his son. Then you called asking if I heard from him as it seems Elaine’s dad passed by his motel last night, and since then, no one has heard from him. Seeing Pat after all these years triggered something. I came by because Dan and I weren’t far anyway and it was just a one-hour drive. I promised Oliver I wasn’t going to show up and check on him, but clearly, I needed to.” Mark writes some notes down and grumbles something no one can understand. I decide to intervene.

  “I’m sorry, but how do we know the father of Elaine passed by?” I ask. Anna turns toward me again and smirks.

  “He told you about Elaine?” She asks suspiciously.

  “Tessa and Oliver share the same tragedy. I told her about Oliver’s past.” Mark intervenes. She nods again without sending me the look of sympathy I despise so much.

  “So, how do we know about the father?” I ask once again, still waiting for one of them to give me an answer.

  “Pat called me.” Mark simply says.

  “And?” I pry.

  Mark rolls his eyes before going on. “The guy was considered their son. It was his family, and the day his fiancée died, he checked out and never gave them any news. He left me behind, it was okay, I survived. But Elaine’s parents didn’t only lose a daughter that day they lost a son, too. I kept in touch with them and with Anna, and I gave the little news I could show them he was healing, promising I would bring him home soon. It took me five years, but I finally did. I wasn’t letting Pat see Oliver for the first time at a commemorative wake. They needed to talk, and I knew Ol would say no, so I sent Pat the address of the motel and told him to pass by.”

  I shake my head and bite my words. “And let me guess, it didn’t go well?”

  “On the contrary! Pat called me happy and ecstatic about reconnecting with Oliver. He was super proud of the work he did overcoming his grief, knowing he owned a bar in New York and had a son.”

  Anna scoffs, “Yeah, Ol is a real magician when it’s about hiding his grief from people.”

  “What then, Mark? Did you try to call him?”

  “Right away, and he was okay. Didn’t want me to come by or whatever. Told me he was tired, and I will see him this morning.”

  “And then he never showed up?” I ask.

  Mark and Anna shake their heads. “I’ve looked everywhere, took all the resources I have to find him, nothing. He knows how to disappear, and maybe I pushed him too hard, too fast?” I’ve never seen Mark so worried.

  Anna takes his hand and pats it slowly.

  “Have you checked where Elaine died, or at the cemetery, or maybe somewhere significant for them? I know if I felt out of control and needed to feel grounded, I would go back to where King and I were happy. I would just find a happy place and try to find peace again.” Mark and Anna both look at me with understanding.

  “We did,” Anna says. “We even checked where she died. Not that I believe he would go back to where he lost her, but,” she shrugs, not finishing her sentence. I would love to tell them she didn’t die where they think she did, but it’s not my story to tell, and I won’t break the confidence Oliver shared. Also, I wouldn’t be able to help or tell them anything more, as he didn’t confide what happened that day. I wish I could help, but there is no more I can say or do.

  “He’s an adult who survived losing the love of his life. I’m pretty sure he’ll show up soon.” I lie.

  People think that loss is the worst part of grief.

  That the moment you lose the one you love is what is the hardest.

  But in reality, it’s the life after the loss that is unbearable, the day after day without them.

  It’s waking up every morning and knowing they won’t be there to have coffee with you or watch the last Star Wars together when you’re both huge fans. That’s why I stop at the coffee shop every morning and say the previous movies were shit because I can’t stand doing it alone.

  I stand and leave Anna and Mark talking in his office while I go to the kitchen for a cup of tea. It’s not my place to be worried, but I can’t stop the emotion.

  I can only imagine what I would do in his position and how I would feel if King’s father would come and talk to me.

  Not that it would ever happen as I always was just the ho who wanted to steal their son. I wasn’t the perfect wife they expected. I didn’t want children or to stop my career and volunteer while waiting around for their son to come back from a mission.

  Maybe I don’t know what it feels to belong to a family after all. Perhaps I can’t imagine what Oliver feels.

  I’m drawn away from my thoughts by some commotion in the office. By the time I join, I see Oliver, his earnest face filled with displeasure and Mark and Anna frowning. Slowly, I approach. I slide into the office and make myself small in a corner so I can find out where he was.

  “I had the whole office trying to find you!” Mark tells him with anger.

  “I didn’t ask for shit, Mark. I told you I was fine. I forgot my phone at the motel, and I didn’t know I had to check in with you!”

  “Come on, Ol, you didn’t text or call Naomi or me last night. We were worried sick!” Anna comes closer to him and tries to put her hand on his shoulder, but he steps back.

  “And I was fucking tired. Anna, I told you I didn’t want you to come. And you,” he turns to Mark, ”you made me come here under false pretenses so I would talk to Pat and Sue. Well, it’s done! Happy? You two are the worst when it comes to boundaries. You’re acting as if I was a fucking child. You want me to be better? I am. I’m going home, and you can tell whoever hired you that their case is nonexistent. I’m done.” Oliver turns around and finds me in the corner. He shakes his head and walks away.

  “Wait!” Anna runs after her brother, “I think the me
morial would help you to heal!” I cringe, knowing this is the worst thing you could tell him in the moment.

  I’m surprised though when he doesn’t rip her head off but starts speaking to her in French, fast and with a lot of hand gestures.

  She answers back, and I wish I could understand what they’re saying, but I can’t. I have no idea how a guy named Oliver Spencer can be so fluent.

  He says something that has his sister gasping and walks away toward the elevator.

  “Tessa! Can you drive me to the motel?” he says without a glance toward me.

  “Le Pew! We need to follow the case through. Don’t be a dick!”

  Oliver lifts his middle finger in Mark’s direction and barks my name once more. I run toward him and just make it in the elevator before the doors close.

  I look at him between my eyelashes and wait for him to calm down before firing all the questions popping in my brain. Wearing a camouflage shirt and some black sporty pants, he looks like the wet dream on a sports magazine. He takes his glasses off, blows on it, and cleans them with his shirt. So fucking sexy.

  “What?” he asks suddenly. His voice makes my stomach jolt like flip-flops on the floor, and I feel my heart melt by the little attention he gives me. Shit.

  “Nothing,” I answer too fast for him to believe me.

  “Don’t bullshit me, Tessa. Ask what you want to ask!” He puts his glasses back in place and his eyes find mine. They are filled with anger, distress, boredom, and hurt — all at once. I didn’t know it was possible to read all this in a simple look.

  “Fucking spit it out,” he snarls.

  “Okay,” I say calmly, not to poke the bear more than he already is.

  “You disappeared, and I can see you aren’t fine. I want to know how Elaine died. I want to know where you were. I want to know why you speak French so well. I want to know why Mark was so worried. I want to understand what happened last night. I want to know what it feels like to be loved by your in-laws. I want to know why—” I can’t finish my sentence because his hands are on my cheeks, and his lips are coming dangerously close to mine.

  “Shut up,” he murmurs before falling on my lips.