A Brother’s Salvation: The Sacred Brotherhood Book VII

by A. J. Downey

  I think she was happy to have even something so small to do.Me, I was just happy to be gettin’ caffeinated. I tried to give Doc a call, to tell him about the crazy shit that’d been my morning, but he didn’t answer. I figured he was either coming off a shift, catching some Z’s from his shift, or was on the ride back to the club, so I didn’t sweat it. If he didn’t answer, it was usually one of the three. I’d see him tomorrow, as soon as we got back.

  Marcie placed a steaming, cracked ceramic mug on the battered kitchen nook table in front of me and another across from me at her seat. She didn’t sit, though. Instead she drifted around the kitchen and was a beautiful sight. Her step was light as air as she breezed over the worn, golden wood floors, getting the sugar and cream from the fridge that was so old, it was close to being an icebox.

  “Will you sit down?” I asked and she smiled.

  “When I’m good ‘n ready,” she shot back and I chuckled.

  She sat down with a satisfied sigh and doctored up her coffee while I sipped mine black, my fingers itching to reach for a smoke. I knew she didn’t like it, and I was tryin’ to cut back. She was right. I wasn’t gettin’ any younger and I wanted to watch my grandson get older. I didn’t want to miss anything, and if it came down to missing his birthday or graduation? Well, I’d rather miss the fuckin’ cigarettes. I’d had my fun.

  “I’m impressed,” she remarked and I looked at her from behind the rim of my mug.

  “How’s that?” I asked.

  “You’ve been up this long and you haven’t smoked.”

  “Tryin’ to cut back.”

  “Oh, goodie. You need to, should have done it a long time ago.”

  I nearly choked on my coffee and laughed.

  “Jesus, you’re bossy,” I teased.

  “I am,” she agreed. “And you need to listen to me more often.”

  “Yeah? Why’s that?”

  “You’ll live a longer, happier life.”

  “Longer maybe. You sure about that last part, though?”

  She swatted my shoulder lightly and I laughed again, shaking my head.

  “Walked right into that, didn’t I?” she asked.

  “That you did.”

  “So,” she said, sobering a bit. “Tell me about this tribute you all do, I mean, I don’t know if I should be out there. I didn’t really know…” her voice trailed off and she shifted on her seat uncomfortably, turning her head to look anywhere but at me. I reached out and covered her hand with my own. She looked back my way and I could see it in her eyes, that she was torn, that she didn’t know what to do, and just how out of place she felt.

  “We write down some things and fold them into paper lanterns, and at dark, we say some words and send ’em out over the lake. We remember our dead, pay our respects, our tributes; then we deal with it in our own ways the rest of the night. Some get to drinkin’, some get to fuckin’…” I trailed off and shrugged my shoulder. Her eyebrow raised and she looked at me.

  “And you?”

  “Busted,” I said with a reckless grin. “Used to be, I would get to drinkin’, then I would get to fightin’.”

  “And what do you feel like doing this time?” she asked, with an answering wicked grin of her own.

  “You don’t mind, I’d rather get to fuckin’ than fightin’. Or, at the very least, if we do fight, I’d like to fuck the rage right outta you.”

  She frowned. “Now what would we have to fight about?” she asked.

  “Good point, let’s skip that for later. Ain’t no couple perfect, we’ll fight someday I’m sure. For now, let’s just keep it to straight fuckin’, if’n you don’t mind.”

  She laughed softly and said, “I don’t mind that at all.”

  A shuffling footfall sounded behind us and Reaver walked in, shirtless, the button undone on his jeans, rubbing a knuckle into one of his wild blue eyes.

  “There coffee?” he asked.

  “There is,” Marcie said, rising. “Want I should fix you a cup?”

  “Hell, yeah. Anything I can do?”

  “Yeah,” I said dryly. “You can button yer pants and put a fuckin’ shirt on, y’ pasty-ass white boy.”

  “Man, fuck you,” he said laughing, dropping into Marcie’s vacant seat.

  “You, Trig, Sunshine, and Doll have a foursome or somethin’?” I asked.

  He grinned and said, “I wish. Doll and I crashed in Doc’s old room.”

  I sighed. I missed having Doc as an officer. Felt like I hadn’t quite lost my right hand, but I’d definitely lost a few fingers, with him dropping back down to just bein’ a member. I understood it. Wasn’t gonna be long that I’d pass the torch myself. I was hopin’ the club would see fit to accept my son as the Pres. If they didn’t, well, that was what it would be. I would try to hide my disappointment. Not in my boy, though. In my boys. My brothers went a different direction, it would surely be their loss. Dray would be a fine leader to ‘em. Of course, I was more ‘n a bit biased. I could own that.

  I frowned and asked, “Where the fuck was Data and Mali?” I demanded. Since Data had taken over as secretary, he should’ve been in Doc’s old room on account of it was his now, for him and his ol’ lady.

  “Fuck if I know. Last I saw they were skinny-dipping, fuckin’ out in the lake.”

  I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

  “I guess it don’t matter anyhow,” I said.

  Marcie brought over a steaming mug and set it in front of Reave. Without thinking about it, I put my hands to her hips and guided her into my lap. Reave’s eyebrows went up and he didn’t bother hiding his smile. He sipped at the coffee and made a face, reaching for the creamer.

  “You know how to make a cup of brew,” he said. “Holy Christ.”

  “Pussy,” Marcie said dryly and took a sip of hers.

  I laughed and Reaver grinned and nodded.

  “Oh, yeah, she’s a keeper.”

  20

  Marcie…

  The day was an interesting one, that’s for sure. Shooting, knife-throwing, trash talk a-plenty. Sunbathing, and reading idly by the lakeside watching the babies play. It was everything I needed to recharge my soul, and I was glad I came.

  I was lounging in a chair on the sand and pebble beach, soaking up the sun with a book in my hands, when Dragon’s boy dropped onto the sand beside my chair. He dusted off his hands and braced his forearms on his knees, and stared, squinting, out over the water for a minute.

  I didn’t know what he wanted, or what to say, so I simply closed my book and laid it in my lap and waited. He raked his bottom lip between his teeth and sighed.

  “I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t awkward for me,” he said, finally.

  I nodded and said, “I can see that.”

  “He likes you – a lot. I haven’t ever seen him look at anyone other than my mom the way he’s been looking at you this weekend. I mean, it’s not completely the same, but it’s there. And I’m struggling.”

  I was impressed. Most men wouldn’t admit that. Especially one as young as Dray. I folded my hands on top of my closed book and asked, “What do you think it would take to make this easier on you?”

  He smiled and bowed his head some and said, “This is a start.”

  “What is?”

  “Just talking.”

  I smiled and nodded. “I have a couple of daughters, my youngest is your age.”

  “Ah, yeah?” he asked.

  “If and when you’re ready, I think I’d like very much to have a big ol’ family dinner. There isn’t much that can’t be sorted at one of those. Our two families can get a feel for each other and decide if they're either gonna like each other or hate each other.” I sighed. “Either way, it’d take some of the uncertainty out of it.”

  He nodded and laughed a little. “It would at that,” he agreed.

  “We tend to play games after dinner; ever play that awful card game?”

  “The mad-libs one?” he asked.

  “That would
be the one. We love that game.”

  He laughed and said, “Well, I’m pretty sure I like the rest of your family already. The fact your son-in-law is a cop I may be able to overlook, depending on if he wins a round or not.”

  It was my turn to laugh. “More often than not, he’s the worst human in the room,” I said.

  “Game on,” he answered with a grin.

  “Dinner is every Sunday after church.”

  He grinned. “We go to church too, just not every Sunday.”

  I looked at him, amused. “Not even close to the same thing.”

  “Agree to disagree on that?”

  “Fair enough.”

  “In all honesty, though,” he said, his expression sobering. “As awkward as it is for me right now, I have to say, it’s good to see my ol’ man happy. So, thanks for that.”

  “I don’t really feel like I do anything.”

  “Well,” he said with a gusty sigh, heaving himself up onto his feet as his little boy started to cry for no apparent reason, “whatever it is you aren’t doing, keep doing it, because it’s working.”

  He walked down to the water’s edge where Everett was picking up their son and he took him from her without hesitation crying, “Hey, Little Man! What’s the matter, huh?”

  “I don’t think he expected the water to be so cold,” Everett answered, laughing.

  “He wanted to try and walk in it,” Dray said and Everett grinned.

  “Wait until he hits the terrible twos and he has a full-on meltdown and it takes you ten minutes to figure out it’s because you served his milk in the green sippy cup when he wanted the blue one.” Shelly smiled, but it held an edge of that mommy-trauma I think every parent knew and loved, at least we loved it looking back on it.

  “Oh, Christ. Are you serious?” he asked.

  “It’s all over the internet, it’s called “Why is my kid crying?” and it’s hysterical, until it happens to you in the middle of the grocery store,” the redhead named Mandy said, laughing.

  “I’ll have to look it up,” Dray said, sounding rueful while his boy, in his adorable little alligator swim trunks, quieted against his daddy’s shoulder.

  I remembered those days fondly, except when it came to Dylan, she went through a phase where she didn’t want to have anything to do with Bobby. It’d been heartbreaking, actually. Poor Bobby had just spent too much time on the river as a boat pilot. He’d be gone all week long, get some time off, but poor Dylan. Her young mind just couldn’t process all of that. Not when she was still trying to wrap it around learnin’ to talk and the like.

  “What’s that sad look for?” Dragon asked, dropping into the seat on my other side. “Dray say somethin’ to you?” His voice was pitched low, like thunder rolling through the clouds with just the barest edge of heat flickering through it like lightning.

  I chuckled. “That look was a memory,” I said, and told him what I’d been thinkin’. He looked visibly relieved and handed me a red plastic cup with sweet tea in it, loaded with ice.

  “I don’t think he’d tell you,” I murmured as Dray and his family slowly wandered up the beach, “but he’s havin’ a bit of a struggle gettin’ used to things.”

  “Things?” Dragon asked, the threat of anger evaporating, dissipating into amusement.

  I rolled my eyes. “Us. It’s new, and he’s tryin’,” I said, smiling.

  “He’s a good kid,” Dragon said, and pride and affection shaded his tone.

  I smiled and said, “Oh, I agree. You’ve done a fine job raising that young man.”

  Dragon shook his head, “I don’t think I was around enough for that. That was all his mamma’s doing.”

  “I’d like to think it was a team effort,” I said kindly, and he smiled and held up his own plastic cup. We clicked them together and I sipped from mine and him from his.

  “You good if Blue comes over here and shows you a thing or two?” he asked me after swallowing.

  “Yeah, I’m good. Why wouldn’t I be good?” I asked.

  “You get squirrely any time you’re around them.”

  “I do not!”

  “You do, and I didn’t say it was a bad thing, it’s just something you do.” He shrugged nonchalantly and I frowned, unsettled.

  “I killed someone dear to them,” I said, my voice quiet.

  “I know, baby. I know it hurts you, too… but everybody’s got to get past it at some point. You can’t let grief dictate how you live the rest of your life.”

  I stared at him, letting my gaze lovingly caress his handsome face and smiled slowly.

  “Listen to you, all profound… also, you’re kind of one to talk.” I winked at him to try and take any sting out of my words, but he felt where I was coming from.

  He laughed and nodded and said, “My grief for Tilly took me exactly as long as it needed to so that I could find you.”

  The way he looked at me as he said it made my throat close up and my eyes grow hot and tight. I was poleaxed, didn’t know what to say, frozen in the amber of those honeyed words and the deep sentiment behind them. He reached out and gently tweaked a thumb against my cheek before standing, the spell he had me under lingering even as he walked away, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll send Blue over when I see him.”

  “You do that,” I said, my voice echoing hollowly. I was still in shock over his words, which had touched me soul-deep. Then again, Dragon was like that. I don’t think anything he did didn’t hold meaning. The man was as many-layered as a tree. A rough bark exterior hiding so many golden rings of experience and knowledge. It was a heady and intoxicating mix and I was turning into an alcoholic, unable to get enough of him.

  It wasn’t long before Blue found me. He asked me quietly, “You have a few minutes?” I smiled up at him and said, “Of course I do,” and struggled to get up out of my low seat. He reached down to give me a hand and I had to laugh. Getting comfortable? No problem. Getting up was a whole other story at my age. He smiled at me and led me up to the stone patio under the lodge’s great big deck, to a folding table and some of those metal chairs.

  “What do you need me for?” I asked.

  “Please, sit. I want to show you how we do things.”

  “Okay,” I drawled, a bit nervous.

  He smiled at me and pushed a large, square piece of paper in my direction. He set a pen down on top of it and brought out a sheet of his own.

  “What am I supposed to do with this?” I asked and he caught my gaze with his.

  “You write him a letter,” he said. “The idea is to write to those that have gone before, then we fold them into paper boats, put a tea light into the bottom and send them out onto the lake.”

  “To what end?” I asked solemnly.

  “Supposedly, it’s a way to speak to them, to tell them the things you couldn’t when they were alive, but honestly, I think it’s more a way to unburden your own soul. Either way, it’s good for you. I mean, at least it has been for me.”

  “Who reads them?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Nobody. At least, no one alive.”

  I chewed my bottom lip and he cocked his head, considering me.

  “I tell him how much he pissed me off when he was alive,” he said quickly and I blinked, taken aback by the vehemence in his tone.

  “Really?” I asked in disbelief.

  He nodded.

  “Just because I loved him, doesn’t mean he loved me back. Truth be told, I don’t think he was capable. I mean, when he was alive, I thought he did but after…” He trailed off and looked out over the lake, his gaze drifting down to its banks and to Hayley and their son who was playing with the other babies. He swallowed hard.

  “Until I was loved by Hayley, I didn’t realize that that was how it was supposed to work. Until Cell was gone, I didn’t realize just how twisted and fucked-up our relationship was.” He turned back towards me and his expression was a mixture of sadness, confusion, and… and I honestly don’t know what.

 
“I’m sorry,” I murmured.

  “I really wish you weren’t,” he said. “He did it to himself, it wasn’t your fault.”

  “I know it sounds awful, but I’m beginning to understand that, now. I meant, I’m sorry you feel the way you do. That you’re in such a state.”

  He smiled again and it was genuine. “Don’t be, it’s getting better, day by day, year by year. Everything happens for a reason. Cell had me blinded, while I don’t think I’ll ever not love him even despite everything he did to me, I realize now that says more about me and who I am than it ever did about him as a person.” He gave a rough sigh.

  “So, I just write him a letter?” I asked, and Blue nodded.

  “That’s how it works.”

  Question was, what do you say to a man you’d never met, except when you killed him? I guess we would find out. I swallowed hard and uncapped the pen.

  Dear Cell,

  I guess that’s what you’re called, but I have no idea why. I don’t know anything about you, really, and the picture everyone has painted isn’t exactly a good one. These are good people you left behind, and I struggle with the fact that I’m both sorry and not for being the one to take you away.

  I still feel that way, you know. That it’s my fault you’re gone. They say you were splitting lanes, and that it’s illegal, that you did this to yourself and that it’s not my fault, but it sure feels like it is.

  Honestly, though. That’s enough about me…

  I guess, I want you to know that both Blue and Hayley are doing real well despite your absence or perhaps because of it. I guess I’ll never really know. I’m told your last words for me were a manipulation; that you were incapable of caring about anyone but yourself. I really don’t want to believe that, I mean, the look in your eyes… I guess I have to believe it.

  I hope, wherever you’re at, you’ve found a peace that you didn’t have when you were alive. I hope, wherever you’re at, you can see how well Blue and Hayley are raising your beautiful son.