Protecting Her

by Allie Everhart

  “How’s Rachel doing?”

  “She’s very hurt that Martha won’t return her calls.”

  “I’m sorry about that. Martha feels horrible about it. Every time Rachel calls or leaves a message, Martha turns into a blubbering mess, wanting to call her back. Rachel was like a daughter to her and she misses her terribly. And don’t even get me started on Garret. Martha loves that boy. She feels like she lost her grandson.”

  Jack and I talked for an hour that day, and ever since then, we’ve talked once a week, sometimes more. I seek out his advice, or he just listens when I’m struggling with the Dunamis side of my life. He’s more than a mentor. He’s like family to me. I’m closer to him than I am my own father.

  The waiter brings my drink, waking me from my thoughts. Logan and I give him our order.

  “How’s Shelby?” I ask once the waiter is gone. “Rachel said Shelby wants another baby.”

  “Yes. We’ve talked about it.” He doesn’t sound very enthusiastic.

  “You’d rather stop at three?”

  He swirls the liquor around in his glass. “I wouldn’t mind having a fourth. Shelby’s a great mother. She loves the kids more than anything. When the twins started kindergarten a few months ago, Shelby could barely let them go. Now all three of her babies are in school. I think that’s why she wants another one.”

  “And yet I’m getting the feeling you don’t want that.”

  “It’s not that. It has to do with something else. That’s why I drove here to talk to you.”

  “What is this about?”

  “Shelby.” He looks down at the table. “And her past.”

  Shit. He knows. He knows about Shelby.

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” I say.

  “I’ve become aware of some things over the years. Things I wish you had told me, Pearce.”

  We can’t talk about those things. Not here. Not now. Logan should know that, but since I’m not sure if he does, I feel the need to tell him.

  “We could talk about this after lunch. Someplace more private.”

  He glances left and right. “I’ll keep it vague.”

  “Then go ahead.” I drink my bourbon. I may need a couple more to get through this conversation.

  “I know about the associates. One of my patients came in last week and—well, it doesn’t matter how I found out. But I did, and ever since then I’ve been putting some things together.”

  “What are you referring to?”

  “The way Shelby behaved when we were dating. I could never figure out where she went at night. She’d disappear. She wasn’t at her apartment. I couldn’t reach her on the phone. And when I asked her about it, she’d get very defensive and tell me to stop spying on her.” He picks up his glass and finishes his drink. “I always wondered how she was supporting both herself and her parents. When I was treating her father, her mother told me how proud she was of Shelby for working two jobs to help pay for her father’s medical bills. But I knew Shelby only had one job and I knew it was only part time. Again, I asked her about it, but she wouldn’t give me an answer. I started to think that maybe she was selling drugs. She always had that pager with her wherever she went. But there were no signs that she was selling drugs. I couldn’t find any at her apartment and she didn’t have buyers coming to her door.”

  “What are you saying, Logan?”

  His glass is now empty but he takes a drink anyway, the ice clanking around. He sets the glass down on the table and looks at me. “I think Shelby was an associate.”

  I keep quiet and wait for him to continue.

  “I know that’s horrible to say, but when I think about it, it makes sense. The money. The pager. Being gone almost every night.” He shuts his eyes and squeezes the bridge of his nose. “I just don’t want to believe it.”

  I give him a moment, then ask, “Do you love her?”

  He opens his eyes and looks at me. “Of course I love her. She’s my wife. The mother of my children.”

  “Then why are you obsessing about her past?”

  “Because I need to know. I need you to tell me, Pearce. I know you know the truth. So tell me. Was she an associate?”

  Our meals arrive and the waiter asks, “Can I get you both another drink?”

  “Yes,” we say at the same time. The waiter goes to get them.

  “Pearce, tell me. I need to know.”

  I set my napkin on my lap. “You don’t need to know. You and Shelby have a beautiful family. A happy marriage. Why would you want to ruin that?”

  He sighs. “So she was an associate. Tell me how long.”

  “I’m not comfortable talking about this. I’m sorry, Logan, but I can’t.”

  “How did she get out? I heard they’re in for life. So how did she get out?”

  I ignore his questions and begin eating my meal. If I’d known this is what we were going to discuss, I wouldn’t have shown up. I was hoping he’d never find out about Shelby, and now that he knows, I don’t know why he’s asking me about this. Why would he want to know this about his wife? It’s over. It doesn’t matter now.

  If Shelby found out that Logan knew the truth about her past, she’d be devastated. And ashamed. She’d think Logan would forevermore see her as a whore and not the woman he loves.

  I’m angry at him for asking about this. More angry than I should be. Then I realize it’s because my situation is so similar to Shelby’s. Living this secret life. Feeling ashamed. Not wanting the person I love to know the truth.

  Years ago, I wanted Rachel to know the truth about me, but I don’t anymore. I’m not that man. The one who does bad things. The one who arranges murders. Covers them up. So I don’t want her knowing. I don’t want her thinking that’s me when it’s not. Being with Rachel the past twelve years, I’ve become a new man. A loving husband. A caring father. Rachel helped create that man, and that’s the only man I want her to know.

  The same is true for Shelby. She doesn’t want Logan to know her for what she’s done in the past. Things they forced her to do.

  Don’t define yourself by what they make you do. Those were Jack’s words and I live by them. They help me get through the bad days. The days when I feel like the bad side is taking over. The days when I feel horrendous guilt for what I’ve done and for the lies I’ve told my wife. When I have those days, I repeat Jack’s words in my head. Then I go home and hug Rachel and Garret, and I’m back to being the other me. The good father and the good husband, who doesn’t do bad things.

  I don’t want Logan defining Shelby by the things she’s done. I don’t want him seeing her as an associate. She only did it because she was desperate to help her father. She shouldn’t be punished for that.

  “Are you going to divorce her?” I ask bluntly.

  Logan’s eyes shoot up to mine. “No! Of course not.”

  “Then stop asking questions. Surely, you’ve been taught the rules by now. Rule number one?”

  “Don’t ask questions. Yes, I know the rule.”

  “Then follow it. Stop asking questions. If you love Shelby and you love your family, then you’ll forget you ever knew this. Shelby is not that girl anymore. She never was. She was just trying to help her family and didn’t realize what she was getting herself caught up in.”

  “I just wondered why she—”

  “Logan, stop it. I mean it. You have to forget about this. You have to wipe it from your brain and pretend you never knew about this. If you don’t, you’ll look at Shelby differently and she’ll know that you know. And I guarantee that will hurt her more than if you stabbed her with a knife. She’ll never get over it. She loves you, and she doesn’t want you thinking about her that way. She won’t be able to live with the fact that you know. She’ll never be happy again. Is that what you want?”

  “No. Absolutely not.”

  “Then let it go. Find a way to put it out of your mind for good. She is not that girl. She is your wife and the mother of your children. That’s it.”


  He nods, his eyes on the table. “I feel sick that she had to suffer through that.” He shakes his head. “If I’d known, I would’ve done anything to get her out of it. I would’ve given her the money for her father. I would’ve—”

  “There was nothing you could’ve done. She was part of it before you even knew her.”

  “But she couldn’t tell me,” he says quietly to himself. “They’re not allowed to tell.”

  “Yes. So don’t be mad at her. If she’d told you, her punishment would’ve been severe. And they would have come after you as well. She had no choice but to hide this from you.”

  He looks up at me. “So how did she get out? I don’t understand. They don’t let these girls leave. They own them. They own them for life.” He pauses, his expression darkening. “Unless…unless she made some kind of deal with them.” His eyes dart around in sheer panic. “Oh, God, what did she do? What kind of deal could she possibly have—”

  “Logan.” I interrupt him before his panic takes over. I didn’t want to tell him this but I don’t have a choice. “It was you.”

  “What?” His brows draw together. “What are you talking about?”

  “You were the reason they let Shelby go.”

  “But how did she—”

  “She wasn’t involved. It was me. I made the deal. I offered to recruit you to work at the Clinic in exchange for them letting Shelby go.”

  He takes a moment to think, then says, “You put yourself at risk by doing that.”

  I nod. “Yes. But it wasn’t completely selfless. In return, you helped my father.”

  “That was still a selfless action. Given the way your father treats you I’m surprised you—”

  “We all received benefit in some way,” I say, cutting him off.

  It’s a topic I don’t care to discuss. I wonder if Logan truly believes I shouldn’t have tried to save my father. I’ve wondered that myself sometimes, when he’s been hateful to me or my family. But I did what I thought was right at the time. And I’m sure Logan would do the same if it were his father who needed help.

  “Let’s just put this behind us,” I say, picking up my knife and fork.

  “Pearce, no,” he says. “I can’t let this debt go unpaid.”

  “There is no debt.” I keep my eyes on my plate as I cut my steak. “It was my decision to make. Neither you, nor Shelby, asked me to do it. You don’t owe me anything.”

  “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have Shelby and our three beautiful children. I owe you, Pearce. Whatever you need…I’ll do it.”

  I look at him. “The only thing I want you to do is to not tell Shelby that you know about her past. She suffered during those years, but you brought her happiness. So don’t take that away from her. She loves you, and the children, and her life. She’s happy now. Just let her be happy.”

  He nods, then rubs his forehead. He needs time to process this and get it out of his head.

  Our lunch continues and he doesn’t mention another word about Shelby. I hope he listens to me and doesn’t confront her about this. I don’t think he will. He loves Shelby. He’d never want to hurt her. And he has his own secrets to keep. He’s not exactly a saint. Not anymore. The longer you work at the Clinic, the more darkness you’re exposed to. Shelby knows this, and soon Logan will realize that she does. But she doesn’t know all that he does for the Clinic. And he’ll never tell her. He can’t. Because if he did, she’d look at him differently. She’d see a different man.

  This is why we must keep that part of our lives separate from the other part. Our Dunamis life is not our real life. Don’t define yourself by what they make you do.

  That simple phrase has changed my life and allowed me to hide this from Rachel. It’s been twelve years and she still doesn’t know about that side of my life. And she never will.

  On Saturday morning, I take Rachel and Garret out for breakfast at Al’s Pancake House. It’s in a different town than where we live. It’s an old greasy spoon diner, but Rachel and Garret love it. I tolerate it for their sake, but I’d never choose to come here myself. I don’t like pancakes, and almost the entire menu is pancakes. Every kind imaginable.

  We’ve been coming here for years. It’s become a tradition on Saturday mornings. Rachel likes traditions. She thinks it’s good for children to have routines that they can look forward to, and Garret definitely looks forward to our Saturday morning trips to Al’s Pancake House.

  “I’m getting blueberry this time,” he says, closing his menu.

  “You always have blueberry,” I tell him.

  He shrugs. “It’s what I like.”

  I put my arm around Rachel, who’s sitting next to me in the booth. “What are you getting, sweetheart?”

  “I think I’ll try the pumpkin-walnut. It won’t be on the menu after Thanksgiving.” She gives me a kiss. “How about you?”

  “The usual. Eggs and bacon.” I kiss her as I take her menu.

  “Gross!” Garret covers his eyes. “Do you have to kiss at breakfast? It’s embarrassing. People are watching.”

  Rachel laughs. “Nobody’s watching, honey. And even if they are, I don’t care. I love your dad. I can’t help but kiss him.”

  I squeeze her shoulder and kiss her forehead. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

  Garret rolls his eyes. “I’ll never be that mushy with a girl.”

  “You will,” Rachel says. “Someday you’ll meet a special girl and you’ll say all kinds of mushy things.”

  “Nope.” He shakes his head and folds his arms over his chest. “Never. I don’t even like any girls.”

  Rachel smiles at him. “You like Cassie.”

  “Only because she gives me her chocolate chip cookies at lunch.”

  “Oh, speaking of cookies.” Rachel turns to me. “Charles is coming over at eleven to make cookies for the bake sale. We need to run home after breakfast and let him in the house before Garret’s game.”

  Charles is a chef that Rachel got to know a couple years ago. He’s catered several of the charity events she’s worked on. He also works at a restaurant. He’s an excellent chef. He’s in his forties. He never married or had kids, but he’s good with children. He catered Garret’s birthday party last August and the kids ended up wanting to spend half the time just watching him cook. He put on a show to make it entertaining for them.

  “Charles wants to come to one of my games,” Garret says.

  Garret is on a basketball team. He also plays football, but the season just ended. And he swims. We hired a swim coach for him because Rachel thought it would be better for someone else to teach him rather than her. As his mother, she finds it hard to correct him when his form is off.

  “You should invite Charles to the game next Saturday,” Rachel says.

  “There’s no game next week,” Garret says, twirling his spoon around on the table. “Everyone will be gone for Thanksgiving.”

  “That’s right. I keep forgetting that. Well, he can go to the one the following week.”

  The waitress arrives at our table. She reeks of smoke. She must’ve just got off her break. “What can I get you?”

  I motion to Rachel. “She’ll have the pumpkin-walnut pancakes and I’ll have the scrambled eggs and bacon.” I look at Garret to order.

  “I’ll have the blueberry pancakes. And a large orange juice.”

  She leaves and Garret says, “Why do you always order for Mom?”

  “Because I like to,” I say.

  “It’s what men used to do in the old days,” Rachel says. “You were considered a gentleman if you ordered for a lady. And your father is a gentleman.” She kisses my cheek.

  Garret covers his eyes. “No more kissing!”

  Rachel just laughs. “Pearce, we need to stop at the grocery store later. I need to get some things for Thanksgiving. I don’t want to go to the store when we get back. It’ll be too crowded.”

  “Do you guys have to leave tonight?” Garret asks.

  Rachel and I
are attending a political fundraiser in DC tomorrow. The fundraiser is for Senator Wingate, who is up for re-election. Wingate is a challenge to work with, but the organization keeps him in office because he’s on a key committee in Congress. To make his senate win look real, we need big name supporters surrounding his campaign. I’m one of those big name supporters. I’ve been making a name for myself in the business world the past few years, giving speeches, appearing on financial news programs, and doing interviews for business magazines. Wingate needs more support in the financial community so the organization has assigned me to show support for him, hoping it’ll convince other financial leaders to do the same.

  “We’ll only be gone a couple days,” I say to Garret, sipping my coffee. “We’ll be back Monday night. And while we’re gone you get to spend time with your grandmother. ”

  He frowns and draws circles on his placemat with his spoon. “I don’t want you to go.”

  Rachel reaches over and holds his hand. “We’ll be back before you know it. And on Tuesday, since you’ll be on school break, maybe we’ll have a movie night.”

  He smiles. “Really?”

  “Yes, and you get to pick the movie. And on Wednesday I think we’ll go to the pool in the morning. Your dad’s coming home at noon, so you two can go out and play football in the afternoon while I start prepping for Thanksgiving.”

  “And on Friday we’ll do the tree?” he asks.

  She smiles. “We have to. It’s tradition. We always do the tree the day after Thanksgiving.”

  “I already bought your ornament,” I say to her. I still buy Rachel an ornament every year. “I’ll give it to you when we get back.”

  “Mom, when can we get my ornament?”

  “How about next Saturday? That way the tree will already be up.”

  “I’m getting a race car one this year.”

  Rachel always takes Garret shopping to pick out an ornament. It’s another tradition. We have a lot of traditions at the holidays. It’s good for Garret, but I enjoy it as well. I feel like it makes us closer as a family because these traditions are unique to just us.

  The waitress brings our food, and Garret and Rachel do what they always do, in their continued attempt to get me to order pancakes. It never works.