Justifying Jack (The Wounded Warriors Book 2)

by Beaudelaire, Simone

  “Dad, you didn't disappoint Mom. She loves you and even if you couldn't have had me, she'd have loved you still. You were made for one another,” Jack tried to encourage his father. “The only thing Mom's ever wanted was to be with you. I was just a bonus for her.”

  “I know,” he assured him.

  Jack gave him an unconvinced look. “Really, because I don't think you do.”

  “Well, I didn't realize it back then, but I know now,” Malcolm smiled humorlessly. “I struggled with what it meant to be a man. I prayed for understanding and acceptance, but it took a long time for me to get there.” It's one of the reason I pushed you so hard. I wanted you to be better than I was… or thought I was. “It's easy to get caught up in self-pity over what you think you ought to have and then you tend to lose sight of the blessings you've already received.”

  “Nothing matters without love,” Jack replied earnestly. “You taught me that. 'If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.' ”

  “Then let me teach you this, son,” Malcolm gave him a meaningful look. “No matter what we prepare for or try to shape our lives to be, God has a plan for us. If you're brave enough to let go of your control and put your faith in Him, you'll be able to see the love that heals all wounds.”

  “I have faith,” Jack insisted.

  “Then realize your blessings, see the love,” Malcolm ordered. “You may not be able to give Marithé more children, but what about giving the children she has the chance to have a father again?”

  “I don't want to try to replace Jorge.”

  “And I don't think you should either,” Malcolm stated. Marithé has more than enough love in her generous heart for the man she lost and for you, my son. “But you can be there to honor Jorge by providing a better life for his children and by loving Marithé the way she deserves.” And she'll love you the way you deserve.

  “I do love her,” Jack affirmed. “I love her deeper than I ever knew was possible. And from the look on Jack's face, Malcom knew he did. He knew they loved him too. “All I want is to spend the rest of my life trying to make her happy, like you do for mom.”

  “You should tell her then,” he suggested. “Take a chance and trust that God will provide – for you, for Marithé, and for Elena and Andres. You all need each other and if you really want to make her happy, then start now. Don't make her wait, struggling to make ends meet, worrying for her family's future.”

  “How do I tell her I bought his house for them and that it doesn't feel right to be here without her and the kids? She should be here to help me make it a real home and it should be filled with Elena's sweet songs and Andres' joyful laughter.” Jack's face held a pleading look, his intensity burning in his eyes. “She's going to think I'm crazy.”

  “No, she won't,” Malcolm reassured him. “See, I made that very mistake – underestimating your mother, assuming I knew what she'd say or do. The truth is she constantly surprises me and I'm certain Marithé will surprise you as well.”

  “I don't know,” Jack shook his head, raising his hands in a frustrated plea before he raked them over his shaved scalp with a sigh.

  “Look, the only way you'll get what you desire is if you make it happen,” Malcolm encouraged. “That begins by you telling Marithé how you really feel, what you really want.”

  Jack nodded, determination replacing his anguish. Rising from the bed he said, “Thanks, Dad” and then he headed purposefully towards the door.

  “Go get your family, son!”

  Malcolm couldn't deny the sense of pride he felt, seeing his son's courage and his dedication to the young mother and her children. Jack's love was evident and Malcolm only wanted the best for him. Please, God, please let them find their way into each other's arms.

  Pausing at the doorway, Jack caught his dad's attention, saying, “I'm the man I am today because of you and Mom. You're good parents and I'm sorry I haven't told you sooner. I love you, Dad.”

  “I love you, too, Jack,” Malcolm fought to hold back his tears of joy. “Now, go! Go!”

  Not needing any more prodding, Jack moved rapidly down the hall, in search of the future he hoped he'd have with Marithé and the children he loved.

  * * *

  “Hey, Mom… Dad,” Jack's voice carried through the house, alerting his parents of his arrival.

  “Jack!” Shonda met Malcolm's eyes with expectation, flushed with excitement. She dashed from the kitchen where they were hand-washing their dishes together, saying, “Your father told me about Marithé. How'd it go? What did she say?”

  “Hey, son,” Malcolm greeted Jack as he followed behind Shonda. Aw, crap! He doesn't look so great.

  Flopping down on the sofa, Jack shook his head.

  Oh, God, no! Malcom prayed. Please, he's lost so much already.

  Distressed, Shonda demanded to know, “What does that mean?”

  “Did she reject you?” Malcolm was genuinely surprised at the notion, but he feared the worst. Ugh! That sounded harsher than I intended it to be. Why do I always sound so gruff with Jack?

  “Of course not!” Shonda snapped the dish towel she was carrying towards her husband. “No woman in her right mind would reject our Jack.”

  Jack rolled his eyes. “Stop, please.” Yes, please! Malcolm couldn't help rolling his eyes too.

  Shonda sat down on the coffee table in front of her son, worry pulling her features tight. “Tell us what happened.”

  “Nothing,” Jack threw his hands wide, letting them drop limply on the couch to either side of him with a resounding thud.

  “You didn't tell her?” Malcolm surmised, his intuition sharper than Shonda's hope. This isn't good.

  “No, I didn't tell her,” Jack confirmed sadly.

  “What? Why not?” Shonda couldn't hide her disappointment. Woman, stop! Let's not make this harder for him than it apparently already is. Jack shook his head in annoyance.

  “I couldn't,” Jack looked away and Malcolm knew he was unable to bear his mother's sad expression any longer.

  “Jack -” Malcolm placed a hand on his wife's shoulder to halt her from continuing with her train of thought. She glanced towards him and he shook his head, silently asking her to stifle additional comments.

  Jack took a deep, ragged breath and then said, “She's not ready.”

  “She's not ready for what?” Shonda demanded.

  She just can't help herself, can she? God, give me strength… Please help me to say the right things, in the right way. “Shonda, let the boy speak.”

  “Right,” Shonda was dismayed. “Sorry. Sorry, go on.”

  Jack resumed his tale. “Well, I went over to her place, expecting to proclaim myself to her, but when I got there, I just knew it was the wrong time.”

  “It's never the wrong time to tell a woman you love her!” Shonda insisted.

  “Woman, please!” Malcolm scolded her. Giving Jack a chastened look, she waved at him, indicating he should continue, as she pursed her lips reluctantly. Acknowledging her deferment to her son, Malcolm said, “Thank you. Jack?”

  “Trust me, it was the wrong time,” Jack reiterated firmly. “Elena was in the tub and Marithé was trying to help her get the shampoo out of her hair, but the phone kept ringing.”

  “Well, that's what voice mail is for!” Shonda interjected. Both men gave her a stern expression, causing her to hold her hands up in surrender. “Sorry.”

  “She tried to let the calls go to voice mail, but the caller just kept phoning her. It ended up being her jackass of a cousin, Raymundo,” Jack shook his head. “Apparently there was some urgency, the way he yelled at Marithé about how much money she should put forth towards a Christmas cruise he wants to send his parents on.”

  “He wants Marithé to give money towards a cruise for his parents?” Malcolm asked, winning a scowl from Shonda.

  “Who's interrupting now?” Shonda barked.
r />   “Sorry, you're right,” Malcolm conceded. “It just caught me off guard, is all.”

  They turned their attention back to Jack. “Anyway, while she tried to contend with him, Andres thought it would be fun to feed the beta fish they have and when he went to pour the food, the lip fell off and the entire can of fish flakes dumped into the tank, making a huge mess.”

  Shonda gasped, “Oh, no!”

  “Of course, Andres got scared he'd be in trouble so he dropped the food container into the tank and ran off. In his haste to escape, he slipped on an area rug, slid across the floor, and slammed into a wall.” Jack dragged his hands down his face in exhaustion. “I tried to help, but Andres just wanted his mom.”

  “Yeah, you always wanted your mom when you were hurt too,” Malcolm recalled. I used to take offense to it, but then I realized it's just how it is. “Kids always want their moms for things they need. They seem to think of us dads as toys or playgrounds.”

  Jack snorted. “Right?”

  “You two hens stop,” Shonda snapped. “What happened? Was Andres okay?”

  Malcolm harrumphed. Hens? Hmmm…

  “Yeah, he just bumped his head and skinned his knee a bit, but he was okay,” Jack reassured his mother, hoping to relieve her concerns. “It's just, that was when Elena started screaming.”

  “Elena was screaming? Why?” Shonda's hand shot to her chest in fright for the child. “Please tell me she didn't slip and fall in the bathroom!”

  “Nope, she got shampoo in her eyes,” he said wearily. He looks tired. I wonder if he's still interested in having a family after this craziness. I mean, that's the reality of the situation he's taking on if he decides to be with Marithé.

  “I can see why you didn't tell her then,” Shonda conceded. “Sometimes life is hectic like that.”

  Life is always hectic like that, Malcom amended silently.

  “Well, we were able to get things calmed down, but when we did…” Jack seemed hesitant to tell the rest.

  “What?” Shonda pushed impatiently.

  Jack sighed. “When we got everything settled down, she said… she said she wished Jorge was still here. After that, I couldn't… I couldn't tell her.”

  Shonda gave him a determined look. “Of course, she'd say that. It's hard being a single parent, I would know! All the times I was left alone to care for you while your father was on deployment… I wished him home too.”

  Malcom winced. I wished I had been there for you too, Shonda. Maybe things would have been different… better. I missed so much.

  “I'm sorry I was so difficult, Mom,” Jack cringed, anguish in his face.

  “Don't be silly!” Shonda smacked him with her dish towel. “Children are worth the stress. It's just, well… it's natural to want your partner to be there to help you when things get chaotic and overwhelming.”

  “Yeah, but I was there,” Jack's voice was pained. “I wanted to help… I tried to help.”

  “But it's not the same thing. I mean, you're not her partner, son,” Shonda said gently. “Not yet, anyway. She wouldn't think to ask you for help or comfort. She expects to deal with things on her own.”

  Jack met his mother's eyes. “Yeah, I guess you're right. I can see that now.”

  “She just needs a little more time, Jack,” Malcolm reassured him, patting him on the shoulder consolingly. It hasn't been that long yet since her husband passed away.

  “Yeah,” Jack agreed. “She's been through so much and the last thing I want to do is to push her.”

  “Good idea,” Malcolm said, glowing with pride for his son's maturity.

  Chapter 10

  “Jack, can you get the door, please,” Shonda called from the kitchen. Sighing, Jack set his beer bottle down and hoisted himself painfully to his feet, grunting with the effort.

  “Were you expecting someone?” he called back as he passed the kitchen door.

  “Yes, honey. Marithé and the kids will be joining us for dinner.”

  Jack stopped moving towards the door and veered into the kitchen. “Mom, why did you do that? Remember what we talked about? She's not ready and I don't want you pushing her.”

  Shonda pulled out a whisk and began to clang it noisily on the edges of the roasting pan. “I'm not pushing anyone,” she shouted over the racket. “My friend Marithé is facing her first holiday as a widow. Her family lives far away, so I invited her for dinner. It has nothing to do with you, silly.”

  Jack didn't believe a word of it, and shot his mother a sour look before he resumed heading towards the door to let their guests in, muttering under his breath.

  Marithé looked even more beautiful than usual, dressed as she was in a knee length black dress. Equally tempting was the covered dish she carried in both hands, the aroma tantalizing his senses. Behind her, Elena, clad in a sparkly red dress, carried a bag of rolls. Andres, looking grumpy in a suit and vest, hugged a two liter bottle of soda almost too big for him to carry. Jack quickly retrieved the Dr. Pepper before the child could drop it.

  “Come in,” he urged. “Welcome and Happy Thanksgiving.”

  They stepped through the door and he closed it behind them. If I didn't have this damned cane, I could get that dish from Marithé. His sense of chivalry insulted, he caught her attention with a look of apology, only to have another one of those electrifying gazes capture them for a brief moment. Then she tore her eyes away, leaving him feeling temporarily overwhelmed.

  Jack cleared his throat, centering himself before saying, “Come on.” He beckoned, escorting her to the kitchen. The kids trailed along in her wake.

  “Hi! Don't you look handsome?” Shonda greeted them warmly, arms outstretched as she bent down to give grandmotherly smooches to the giggling toddler. When Elena thrust the bag of rolls towards her, delighted to receive her welcome hug, she added, “You look like an angel!”

  “How can I help?” Marithé asked Shonda, setting her burden on the counter.

  “Can you mash the potatoes?” Shonda suggested, slipping each of the children a cookie.

  “Follow me, kids,” Jack said. “I think there's a holiday movie on TV.”

  “Can we watch football?” Andres suggested, taking a generous bite of the offered cookie.

  Jack laughed. “Sure, of course. It's already on in the den. What about you, Elena?”

  “I want to cook,” the girl replied primly, setting her cookie on the table and clapping her hands together in anticipation.

  Shonda beamed. “That's my girl! Jack, honey, can you please put that chair over by the stove before you men folk head off?” Touching her forehead to Elena's, she said conspiratorially, “You can help me make the gravy.”

  “Yay!” The little girl cheered and Shonda grabbed one of her aprons from the drawer to tie onto her. “I love gravy!”

  “Have you ever made gravy?” Shonda asked, smiling over at the grateful looking mother, who was adding a splash of milk and a pat of butter to the contents in a large pot.

  “Nope,” Elena answered with her hands in the air. “But I like to eat it.”

  Grinning, Jack dragged the chair over as directed and returned to the den, where Andres had already plunked himself onto the floor, watching the game as he gnawed on his cookie. Interestingly, he had chosen a spot close to Malcom's leg.

  His father reached down and tousled the little boy's curly hair.

  * * *

  “Ugh,” Malcom groaned, “No pie for me, please. I'm stuffed to the gills. Marithé, those tamales you brought were delicious. I've never liked those before, but yours are great.”

  The lovely woman beamed. “Thank you, Pastor Nelson.”

  “Malcolm, please.”

  “What about you Jack,” Shonda asked, picking up her glass to wash down the last bite of her supper. “Are you ready for pie?”

  “No thanks, Mom!” Jack said, shifting against his belt buckle, looking uncomfortable. “I don't think I'll want to eat again for at least a week.”

  Shonda grinned i
nto her glass of wine.

  “Me either,” Elena echoed then tried to mirror Jack's movements before she gave up, opting to pat her bloated tummy instead.

  At the end of the table, Andres let out a tremendous yawn. The corners of Marithé's mouth turn upwards in a soft grin as she gazed at her son affectionately. “I don't mean to eat and run, but we'd better be going,” she said, getting up to start clearing away Andres' dishes.

  “Don't rush away,” Shonda insisted. “Let me just get a bed ready in the guest room.”

  “Oh, I don't know,” Marithé said, trying to prevaricate.

  “Actually, I've been dying to have some little kid time. Marithé, would you do an old lady a favor and let me play grandma for a while? You and Jack could… I don't know… go to a movie or something. What do you say?” She gave her best puppy dog eyes to the young mother.

  Jack rolled his eyes at her obvious manipulation, and waited for Marithé to refuse. The woman remained silent for a long, long moment, and then, just as Jack was about to jump in and say it wasn't necessary, spoke. “Okay.” She turned to him. “If that's okay with you, I mean.”

  He blinked. “Yeah, sure it's okay.”

  She grinned and Jack felt his stomach tighten.

  “Here, let me do that,” Shonda ordered, standing up to take the plates from Marithé.

  “Thank you, Shonda,” she replied, surrendering the items to the older woman before holding out her hand to Jack. He claimed it and they quickly crossed the room to the door. Once outside in the cool November evening, Marithé asked, “Do you really want to go to a movie or are were you just trying to make your mother happy?”

  How can I answer? I don't want to give the wrong idea, but… “Not a movie, if you don't mind. I don't like encouraging businesses to make their people work on Thanksgiving, if I don't have to. But after all that turkey,” he rubbed his belly with his free hand and groaned, “I'd love to go for a walk.”