The Navigator (Mountains Series Book 5)

by Phoebe Alexander

  Clark’s voice echoed in his head: “Be a man and suck it up. No one cares what you’re feeling. They only want to see action.”

  Clark said he’d learned this being a Marine: how to be tough and how to keep on fighting even when you didn’t think you can fight anymore.

  So, he’d taught his stepson some useful things after all...maybe.

  Garrett wondered what his real father would have taught him if he’d had the opportunity to be raised by him. And maybe that was a selfish reason to track Jackson down—not just because he’d grown fond of his sister Lilly through their phone calls and texts over the past few weeks—but because he wanted to see what Jackson was made of. Would he look into Jackson’s eyes and see himself, or was Jackson shaped by this man Garrett only knew from glimpses of distant memories?

  Does your dad want to meet me? he had asked Lilly.

  Never “our father.” Never “my dad.” It was always “your dad.”

  She never gave him a straight answer.

  Here they were hiring PIs and her flying 3000 miles to meet him in hopes of tracking down Jackson Stone. Did their father give a rat’s ass about the son he abandoned all those years ago?

  They didn’t know where Jackson was, but Garrett was right there. And had been there all along. Then he wondered, really had to stop and think—did they know what happened? Where fate had taken young Garrett Patrick Stone after Henry Stone walked out? It was in the news. They were only a few towns over. Surely they knew what transpired.

  It’s not like his father tried to find him then. Hell, he didn’t even tell his wife and kids about the son he had abandoned. Did he read the news and just look the other way? It was like being abandoned all over again.

  So maybe finding Jackson was just a way to get back at his father, to rub it in his face that Garrett wouldn’t abandon a family member, not even one he’d never met. Maybe his father would get the picture once and for all that blood was supposed to be thicker than water.

  Anjuli reached down into his lap and took ahold of his hand. She squeezed him tightly, and a smile spread across her face even though her eyes remained shut. It was like she instinctively knew he needed her in that moment. That he was wrestling with the demons again and needed her soothing touch.

  He didn’t deserve her. He didn’t deserve her kindness or her good heart, nor all the help and support she had freely given in the past few weeks.

  God, it has only been about a month, hasn’t it?

  How could he have just met her, and yet he already felt so close to her? He always kept his distance from people, or meant to, anyway. People had a nasty habit of letting him down. Why bother opening himself up to further disappointment? But Anjuli had wormed her way in with her beauty, grace and that body...oh, that sinful, curvy body he wanted to sink himself into so badly the night before. He feared that part of their relationship was over. Maybe he’d never fuck her again, and the thought of that loss struck him like a bolt of lightning. Maybe she had friend-zoned him because of the alcohol, because of the PTSD she had already diagnosed him with.

  Of course, she knew it was there—wasn’t that her job? Wasn’t that what she was trained to see?

  Probably for the best, he realized. Because there was a part of him that feared—if he allowed himself to, he might just fall in love with her.

  The landing was bumpier than he had anticipated, and it jerked Anjuli awake with a start. He squeezed her hand, which was still enclosed in his, and she glanced around as if she had forgotten she was on a plane.

  “We’re here,” he told her, stroking a finger across her cheek.

  They got their bags and exited the aircraft, not saying a word as they joined the throng of people moving in a swarm through the airport. He’d rented a car because they had another leg of the journey to complete. The town they were headed to was so small, it barely appeared on the map. He hoped he’d have a signal and be able to use his GPS the entire way.

  It wasn’t until they were buckled in the rental car that Anjuli finally asked if he was doing okay.

  “So far, so good,” he answered.

  “Did you tell them we’re coming?”

  He shook his head. “I like the element of surprise.” He shifted gears and backed out of their parking space, following the signs to exit the garage.

  She sighed as if to disagree, but she didn’t say anything. She closed her eyes again as if speaking was too labor-intensive at the moment. He wanted to ask her if she was sure she was feeling okay, but by the time he decided to, she had already dozed off.

  He shrugged and made his way on the interstate, which then became a two-lane highway and finally, a narrow, winding country road. The countryside was still ablaze with fall colors, unlike the trees in Maryland, which had lost their leaves already. He had never been in this part of the country, so he wasn’t sure what to expect, but he watched rolling hills turn into tree-covered mountains as they drove northeast, and the fall covers gave way to bare branches in the higher elevations.

  His GPS had not failed him, directing him onto a narrow lane that led to their destination. A quick glance at the clock revealed it was nearly 5 PM. They’d been traveling for nine hours total, and the journey was finally over. He put the car in park and laid a gentle palm on Anjuli’s knee, shaking her a bit when she failed to stir.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” she questioned, her eyes popping open to meet his.

  He nodded. “If you’re up for it. It’s really up to you.”

  She took a deep breath as if to gather her resolve and unfastened her seatbelt. He opened his door, then came around to open hers and help her out. In the distance stood a two-story farmhouse with paint-peeling wooden siding and bright blue shutters. He swallowed down his nerves and reached for Anjuli’s hand. Having her with him did make him feel stronger, he hated to admit it. He tried to envision making this walk to the front porch on his own, and he couldn’t quite paint the image in his mind.

  His heart started to pound as his boots pressed into the wooden stairs. He’d re-read James McAllister’s message a half-dozen times, and he still had trouble believing what it said. It was like something out a movie, it was so out there. He had no choice but to see for himself if it was true. Maybe there had been a mistake. He almost wished there had been—it would be easier to explain to Lilly.

  And no, he didn’t want to tell her anything until he knew for sure what was going on. She’d been through enough without having this dumped on her, especially if the outcome was not positive.

  Anjuli shot him a look of encouragement as he stood on the tattered welcome mat, his arm poised to knock. He struck the heavy wooden door three times. He didn’t see a button for a doorbell, otherwise he would have used it. There was a rusty green truck parked over by the barn twenty or thirty yards away from the house, and a newer SUV was parked in the driveway next to the garage. He hoped that meant someone was home.

  They heard shuffling footsteps inside, then the door swung open. Garrett could have sworn he was looking in the mirror at a younger version of himself, except for a discolored scar on the left side of the man’s face.

  “Jackson?” he managed to force out before a lump grew in his throat.

  “Martin,” he shot back with no hesitation, a skeptical look twisting his features.

  “You’re Jackson Stone,” Garrett tried again, “and I’m your brother.”

  “So, I still don’t understand all of this,” Garrett interrupted. They were sitting around a table in the spacious farmhouse kitchen. He felt like he’d stepped onto the set of the Wizard of Oz or something, as much because of the unfamiliar location as the feeling he’d landed somewhere over the rainbow and was struggling to get his bearings.

  “My application to change my name on all my Army paperwork is still pending. You have to file a DD149 and prove there’s a legitimate reason for the change. But my name has legally been changed to Martin Foster,” Jackson explained. He was flanked on each side by Jake and Kare
n Foster, whose son had been Jackson’s friend and lost his life in the explosion in Afghanistan.

  Anjuli appeared to have her gameface on. This is what she does for a living, Garrett kept reminding himself every time he felt guilty for dragging her into this crazy mess. And she is the one who wanted to come...insisted upon it, in fact.

  “But why are you taking this man’s identity?” Garrett pressed. “You have a family back in Washington who is worried sick about you! So much so, they hired a private investigator to track you down.”

  Jackson’s brows furrowed, and a scowl cut into his face. Karen Foster reached out to cover his hand with her own. “Look, I didn’t ask you to come all the way down here to question me. I don’t even fucking know you, man. Why don’t you and your shrink girlfriend just go back to Maryland?”

  Garrett stood up, his chair grinding against the wood floors and making an ear-splitting noise. “Because I know what it’s like to not have a family. To have your family abandon you. Your father ditched me and my mom when I was three years old! You don’t even know how lucky you are to have a family who cares about you!”

  The animosity between these two red-headed brothers was like watching two stags spar on a rocky mountaintop. Anjuli cut in, managing to keep her voice calm, while still raising it loud enough to get everyone’s attention. “Please sit back down, Garrett.” She glanced around the table at each face as Garrett did as directed.

  “PTSD can take many different forms,” she began, using a tone Garrett had come to know as her “professional” voice. “We’re not here to question why you did what you did, Martin. We’re here to let you know you have a family who cares for you deeply and is hurt by your disappearance. Can we focus on that much, please?”

  Everyone seemed to nod and mumble in agreement. Jackson’s features relaxed as he turned to his brother. “I didn’t know you existed until thirty minutes ago, okay? I’m sorry that I’m having a bit of a time adjusting to the news of having a brother I never knew about.”

  “Understood,” Garrett replied. “Trust me, I was pretty blown away when I learned about you, too.” He slapped his hand across his face, realizing his mistake. “Shouldn’t have said ‘blown away,’ sorry...”

  The tiniest smile cracked Jackson’s face. “It’s okay.”

  Jake Foster turned to Anjuli and spoke up, “When you called last week to ask about our son and expressed your condolences, it really stirred up a lot of feelings.” He cleared his throat, having difficulty holding back his tears. “Martin has been gone for almost two years now. Every day I think about my boy and how much I miss him. When Jackson arrived almost a year ago now, it was like a piece of Martin came back home to be with us. My wife and I—well, after we got over the initial shock that he was here—we welcomed him with open arms. Martin was our only child. He was our entire world.”

  Karen continued in her lilting Southern accent, “I know this whole thing probably sounds really weird to the both of you. Do either of you have children?”

  “I do,” Anjuli answered, and Garrett detected a tear glistening in her eye to match the ones filling Karen’s. “She’s nineteen.”

  “Martin wasn’t much older than that when we lost him,” she continued. “You know, then, how it is to be a mother, how it is to have your heart walking around in someone else’s body. You raise them, send them out in the world, and it’s this piece of you out there where you can’t see them, can’t protect them anymore. You have to trust they can do it on their own. That they have what it takes to make it.”

  The tear slid down Anjuli’s cheek as Karen poured her heart out.

  “When we received word that Martin had passed, I felt like a piece of me had been destroyed. The biggest piece of me. That boy was my whole life. The entirety of the twenty-two years he was with us on this earth, he was my every waking thought. What was my mind going to do without him? What would my heart do? How would I fill my day with him no longer here?

  “Then Jackson called us as soon as he could use a phone again. I remember that phone call like it was yesterday: how much pain he was in, how absolutely horrible he felt about our son, and how deeply he had cared for him. He called us a couple times those first few months of his recovery, then we didn’t hear from him for another couple months. We wondered about his progress—I’d gotten on Facebook again, only to watch for his sister’s updates. Then she posted he was gone, that he’d disappeared.

  “A few days after that, he showed up on our doorstep. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Right there on my porch was the last human Martin had spoken to. And he let me throw my arms around him and hug him tight to me like I used to do to my boy. He let me hold him and love him, just like Martin.

  “I don’t know why; I don’t really know how—but he was like an angel to us. Helping Jake with the farm and me get things fixed up around the house. He was still recovering from his injuries, learning to use his prosthesis, but he’s still an able-bodied young man. And he just never left. He wanted to be here with us, didn’t you, Son?”

  Jackson looked at the woman with love in his eyes and nodded. “I sure do, Mom.”

  “And, of course, when you called, we wanted to protect him and honor his wishes that we didn’t give away his new identity. He didn’t want to be ‘found’ by anyone from his old life,” Jake added.

  Garrett was moved by Karen’s story, but he still found it unbelievably strange. Anjuli’s words about everyone handling PTSD differently pounded into his skull. She had a point. After all, what did he do? He handled it by closing himself off, never speaking a word of it and being haunted by flashbacks and nightmares for years. To this day, in fact—and probably for the rest of my life.

  Almost half of his life now had been a series of flashbacks and nightmares.

  But he’d kept on going. He didn’t change his name. He didn’t worm his way into a strange family and pretend to be their son.

  No, but he had used sex and alcohol to try to quiet the voices inside his head. He did move across the country to try to escape the ghosts. And when that didn’t work, he just drank more and had more sex.

  “So it took quite a bit of digging around at the Army to put two and two together about what’s going on,” Garrett said. “I guess the one and only person who really knows is your former commanding officer?”

  Jackson nodded. “I begged him not to tell my family. I knew they were going to want to track me down.”

  “Why don’t you want to speak with your family?” Anjuli asked in that perfect non-judgmental way of hers. If I’d asked him that, it would have come out judgy as all get out, Garrett mused.

  Jackson let out a long sigh. “It’s not so much that I have a problem with them,” he answered. “But after my fiancée dumped me—when everyone had been so excited about the wedding and all that—I just hated that I couldn’t give them the happy ending everyone wanted. You know, the Army vet comes back, overcomes his injuries, marries his sweetheart and then lives happily ever after.”

  Garrett smirked. There was so much in his brother’s voice that could have come out of his own mouth. He’d always felt incapable of living up to others’ expectations. It was hard when he’d been told his whole life that he’d never measure up.

  “Would you be open to speaking with them?” Anjuli questioned. “Even just over the phone? To let them know you’re safe?”

  He took another deep breath as he glanced from Mr. to Mrs. Foster, who nodded at him. “I wouldn’t want his mother to worry about him like I did about Martin every day I didn’t hear from him when he was deployed,” Karen said. “I’ve been trying to get him to contact his family for some time.”

  “Why the name change, though?” Garrett pressed. He had to know. There were so many times he wanted to change his name, to drop the name of the man who never cared about him, who never bothered to see if he’d grown up.

  “Mom started calling me ‘Martin,’ and after a while, Dad did too,” he said, looking at Mr. and Mrs. Foster affectionately.
“Then, finally, I had an epiphany of sorts. It seemed like a way to start over. I’d failed at being Jackson Stone. And it seemed like a way to keep Martin’s memory alive forever. What better way to do that than to just become him? I didn’t want my own memory to live on, anyway.”

  Jake and Karen had tears of pride in their eyes as they glanced down at their “adopted” son. It was a weird situation, but Garrett couldn’t disrespect it. It seemed like a loving home, and that was way more than he’d ever had.

  Anjuli reached for his hand under the table and squeezed it. “So what do you say to letting your other family know you are safe?” she asked again.

  Jackson exhaled, then slowly nodded his head. “Yes. I think I’m ready to do that.”

  Twenty-One

  Parts of the day did seem like the beginnings of a happy ending. They learned that Martin/Jackson had a girlfriend, actually a girl the original Martin had dated back in high school. It was a weird twist to an even stranger story but somehow felt right. Anjuli had been standing there when Jackson made the phone call home to his mother. He put the phone on speaker so Garrett could hear, and he even told his family, which was huddled around Mrs. Stone’s cell phone in Washington State, that he was thrilled to meet his brother, and that he’d never be making this phone call if he hadn’t shown up in Alabama.

  The Stones were beyond grateful to learn their son was alive and well. He didn’t tell them about the name change—understandably. One thing at a time.

  Garrett drove them to the hotel they’d found in a tiny town down the mountain and across the river from the Foster’s farm. It was a thirty-minute drive to civilization, but they managed to check in and find a little diner to grab some dinner.

  “Why aren’t you eating?” Garrett questioned as he scooped another forkful of pasta into his mouth.

  She shrugged. “My stomach has been kind of sensitive lately. I’m honestly kind of afraid of this.” She laughed as she turned her open-face sandwich over, examining the layers of roast beef carefully. “It says it’s beef, but who knows, really?”