Young Revelations (Young Series)

by Kimble, W. R.

  Though I still doubt my brother is here for any good reason, I do suddenly remember seeing him laughing and smiling with Matthew when he got out of the van. That has to be a good sign, right? Besides, I’ve got other things to do than worry about what my brother might be up to.

  Claire returns and quickly informs me that Matthew is in good spirits and not hung over, not that I was particularly worried about that, and he’s eager to see me. She then informs me that he’s been banished to the basement to get ready. Despite all my attempts to sneak out of the room, Claire stops me every time, not even allowing me use of the bathroom without someone standing outside the door to ensure I don’t wander off. It’s really getting annoying…

  I’m still trying to find a way out of the room to see Matthew when Claire announces we’ve got an hour until it’s time for me to walk down the aisle. I hadn’t even realized the time had gone by so quickly, but I quickly abandon the door and head towards the office bathroom where my wedding dress is hanging, having just been altered to fit the increasing size of my belly. For the millionth time this morning, I wonder what Matthew is doing, whether he’s nervous and pacing and running his hands through his hair so that it sticks up in every possible position. I wonder if he’s panicking about what today means—that I’m here for the long haul to support him and love him for the rest of our lives. I know he worries relentlessly about safety and what might happen if the dangers of his job get too close to us again. Whether it’s us being hurt or me being unable to handle things and running, he worries.

  And truthfully, I’m a little worried myself. Not just because of the dangers, but because of how he’ll handle it. He’s so protective of Tyler and me and he desperately wants to shield us from anything negative, to the point that he’ll keep everything quiet until it all blows up and he can’t hide it anymore. We’ve made so much progress over the last few weeks between therapy with Dr. Morris and just talking to each other that I think he’s realized how damaging it is when he keeps things from me; I only hope all that carries over into our marriage.

  ––––-o––––-

  Since I’ve been completely banned from the entire upstairs of my own house, it gives me the opportunity to oversee the decorating for the wedding. Everything is going perfectly so far—even the weather is cooperating. Though we’re expecting a snow storm today, it seems like it will hold off at least until the end of the ceremony, which will take place down on the boat dock overlooking the frozen, snow-covered lake. While Sam and I have discussed those details, I’m not sure she fully comprehends how incredible it’s going to look as we’re saying our vows to one another. I can’t wait to see the expression on her face when she takes it all in. I’m taken aback just watching the transformations of my backyard and the inside of my house. Everything from the flowers to the dinner plates is covered in shades of blue and silver and gold, and it’s all really starting to resemble something right out of a fairytale. I have to keep pinching myself just to remind me it’s not a dream and somewhere upstairs, Samantha is getting ready to become my wife again.

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  I spin around, only now realizing my hand is on the railing of the staircase leading upstairs and one of my feet is on the second step. Claire is standing in front of me with her arms crossed, wearing a pink fluffy robe. Her hair is pulled up and back and it looks like she’s already got her makeup on. “Morning, sis!” I say cheerily, stepping off and away from the stairs. “Don’t you look gorgeous this morning. Did you have a good night?”

  She raises an eyebrow, rolls her eyes, and walks towards the kitchen. Smirking, I follow. I’m smart enough not to try sneaking upstairs right now; I do have some sense of self-preservation. And while tradition states I can’t see my bride before she walks down the aisle, nothing says I can’t ask about her. Apparently Claire knows me well; before I can even take a breath to speak, she smiles. “Sam’s fine. Getting her hair done as we speak.”

  I smile back. “Is she nervous?” I ask in an almost whisper.

  “A little,” Claire says, shrugging. “I think she’s mostly worried she’ll trip in her dress and fall flat on her face as she walks down the aisle.” She pauses, again raising an eyebrow. “Are you nervous?” I choose not to answer, instead grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. Claire sighs. “Let me guess… You spent most of the night worrying she’s changed her mind. That she got cold feet and that by the time you got here, she’d be somewhere in Australia.”

  There are times I really hate my baby sister. This is definitely one of those times. I take a deep gulp of water to delay answering. “I did worry she’d have second thoughts,” I admit reluctantly, unable to not squirm under Claire’s narrowed eyes.

  “Typical,” she snorts. “And did you have second thoughts?”

  “Every other minute,” I tell her. “Not because this isn’t what I want, because it is, without a doubt. I’ve never wanted anything more. It’s because there’s still a part of me that thinks I should just walk away from her to keep her safe.”

  Surprisingly, Claire looks sympathetic rather than irritated. “It always comes back to that, doesn’t it? Protecting her?” I nod. “Well, she’s had some of those concerns too—that you’ll change your mind because you’re trying to be noble or some bullshit. And you know what she told me? She just wants you to trust that she knows what she’s doing. She’s seen the worst of it, Matt, and she’s still here. Trust that. Stop questioning yourself so much.”

  “Easier said than done,” I respond. “I can’t seem to get this right.”

  “Well,” Claire says softly, reaching for my hand, “that girl isn’t going anywhere. I think you’re pretty much stuck with her.”

  I smile. “Can’t think of a better fate than that,” I say.

  We talk a little more, comparing stories from last night. None of the boys slept, so we’re expecting tantrums and kids falling asleep in random places once the excitement dies down. Claire hints that there was some sort of discussion last night about some of my most embarrassing times as a teenager. Despite threats of retribution, I can’t get anything more from her than that, though I can’t really think of anything Samantha doesn’t already know about. She opens her mouth to say something, but the doorbell rings before she can speak. She’s smirking at me as I glare and head to the door.

  The caterers have arrived, which means Claire and I have lost access to the kitchen for the next several hours. She says something about getting back upstairs and that she’ll come find me in a bit. I return to the basement to find Danny, Marcus, and Jimmy falling asleep on the couch watching the three boys playing videogames. Even Bandit seems to have had enough; he’s curled up at Tyler’s feet, snoring softly.

  Men really do have it easy on days like this. It takes us all of about fifteen minutes at most to get dressed, shave if we need to, and make sure our clothes are straight. Even with the added task of getting three exhausted little boys ready, I don’t imagine we’ll need much time. I glance at the clock and find there are still a couple hours before the wedding begins, so I take a page from my friends’ book, find a place on the couch, and let myself doze off.

  ––––-o––––-

  An hour or so later, I’m shaken awake by Danny telling me the guests are starting to arrive and I scrub my hands across my face to wake myself up a bit. The others are starting to get dressed as well, though Marcus seems more preoccupied with playing tug o’ war with Bandit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile and chuckle so much. When he notices me watching him, he clears his throat and scowls.

  “Thought I’d keep the dog occupied while the kids got dressed,” he informs me gruffly.

  Lips twitching, I turn away and grab my tux off the clothing rack we set up this morning. I glare at the bowtie—only for Samantha would I wear one of those damnable things. I hate them more than I hate regular ties; they’re finicky and dorky and I always feel like I’m being strangled when I’m wearing one. I can’t get
them off quickly enough. Regardless, this is what the woman at the tux shop insisted should go along with this particular tuxedo. I tried it on without the bowtie to get it tailored and I’d be perfectly happy to stuff the bowtie somewhere and forget about it altogether. But considering my groomsmen are all wearing one, I’d look like a total idiot if I didn’t. Danny in particular was almost giddy when we chose the tuxes we did—he said something about bowties being cool and I swear he giggled afterwards. I might book him his own session with Dr. Morris…

  Several sets of eyes look up the stairs when we hear a knock and I call for the person to come in, quickly pulling on the tuxedo pants over my boxers in case it’s one of the girls. I nearly lose my balance completely when I see my father slowly walking down the stairs. Last I heard, he was completely boycotting the wedding in protest and that was weeks ago. I haven’t even spoken to him directly in nearly a month and to be honest, I haven’t been overly concerned about crossing that bridge. Since my conversation in my office with Bonnie, though, it’s been at the back of my mind that something might be really wrong with him. The more I think about it, the more it makes sense—Bonnie says she saw my dad at the doctor’s office where she’s receiving treatment for a brain tumor. The only reason he would be there is if he was receiving similar treatments. Looking at him now, my theory only solidifies. He’s thinner than I’ve ever seen him; his skin has a gray tinge to it; his hair is completely gray and seems to be disappearing.

  Silence falls on the room—well, if you don’t count the three little boys eagerly greeting their grandfather. Danny looks just as shocked as I am; Marcus seems to be preparing to step in for the fight; Jimmy just looks confused.

  “Morning, gentlemen,” my dad says, reaching the bottom of the stairs. To my further surprise, he actually looks uncomfortable. “Would you mind if I spoke to my son in private?”

  Marcus sends me a look, silently asking if I’m up for this. I nod minutely and a few moments later, everyone but my dad is retreating up the stairs. I go on about getting changed, purposefully ignoring my father’s presence. I have an inkling of why he’s here and it’s the very last thing I want to deal with right now. Or any time for that matter… I have nothing nice to say to him at the moment, so it’s probably best I wait for him to speak first. Smoothing the non-existent creases in my shirt, I hear my father let out a deep sigh and take a few steps towards me.

  “Are you going to look at me?” he asks.

  I turn around to face him. “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  He raises an eyebrow at me. “It’s my son’s wedding day,” he responds as though it should be completely obvious.

  “Exactly,” I shoot back. “And you’ve made it pretty damn clear you don’t approve of my marriage to Samantha, so if you’re here to talk me out of it, save your breath and go home.”

  “That’s not why I’m here,” he says quietly, sitting on the arm of my couch. “Maybe if you’d return a couple of my calls once in a while…”

  I roll my eyes. “Then why are you here? Or did Mom make you come?” I realize I’m being an asshole, but I really don’t care at this point.

  “I wanted to apologize.”

  I drop my shirt to the floor in shock, because I have never heard those words come out of my father’s mouth all together like that in my entire life. He’ll find every excuse possible not to apologize for anything, especially when it comes to his kids. He maintains everything he does is the right thing, even if it’s anything but. “Sorry, can you repeat that?” I say quietly, staring at him with wide eyes.

  His lips twitch into a brief smile. “I said I want to apologize. I haven’t been as supportive as I should be when it comes to you, particularly where it pertains to Samantha. I’ve treated both of you terribly over the years and I want to apologize for that.”

  There’s got to be a catch… “What’s the catch?” I ask suspiciously. “For the first time in eight years, you’re admitting to something I’ve been trying to tell you for years. I’ve stood by and watched you belittle the woman I love, make snarky little comments about how she’s not good enough for me and how I need to be with Lucy. You nearly threw me a party when she left me and took my son with her, even though I was more miserable than I’d ever been in my life. You never passed up the opportunity to tell me I’m better off without her. And then I find out you offered her half a million dollars to leave me and she turned you down—that must have put a bit of a dent in your theory that she’s a gold digger, huh? I know it was Samantha specifically you objected to, because when you met Natalie, you loved her the moment she walked through the door. And don’t think I didn’t hear all the little comments between you, Holly, and Elizabeth about how much happier I seem to have been. In case you’re not aware, Natalie is the woman behind all the shit that’s been going on. The plane crash. Sam and Tyler being kidnapped. Tyler being kidnapped again. That’s who you wanted me to be with, Dad. A murderer. A kidnapper. God knows what else she’s been behind.”

  “I know,” he says quietly. I only realize now that I’m practically shouting at him. But that can’t be helped at this point; this altercation has been a long time coming. “Matthew, I know all of that. I also know I sponsored a visa for one of the men who helped kidnap your family—I didn’t do the background checks I should have done, and that’s my fault.”

  It doesn’t escape my notice that for the first time—possibly ever—my father has referred to Samantha as being my family. Not just Tyler. “What about you showing up here one day and basically threatening Samantha to leave? Telling her she doesn’t belong here and that you’d take her to court? Oh yeah, I know about that too,” I say as his eyes dart away from me briefly. “Who the hell do you think you are that you can make those decisions? I wanted her here if something happened to me. I wanted her somewhere she could be safe. That’s got nothing to do with you. I’m not a child that needs to be led around by the hand so I make the right decisions. I do that just fine on my own.”

  He smiles a little. “I know you do, son,” he says softly. “And you’ve done wonderfully. Better than I’ve ever expected.”

  “Then why the hell isn’t it ever good enough for you?” I shout. “Why can’t you just let me live my life?”

  “Because I’m your father,” he responds, finally looking like he might be approaching anger. “My job isn’t done the day you turn eighteen; it’s still my responsibility to keep you safe.”

  “No, it’s not!” I say, fisting my hair in frustration. “I don’t need your protection anymore.”

  “You don’t think so?” he counters. “So tell me, Matthew, when your son turns eighteen and goes off in the world on his own, you’re just going to leave him be, even when you know he’s making the wrong decisions? A parent’s job isn’t over until the very end. I will never apologize to you for keeping you out of trouble when I’ve been able to. Yes, I thought you’d marry Lucy one day and I know she hurt you, but love hurts, son.”

  I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Stop, Dad,” I say quietly. “Just stop. I’m not listening to another round of Lucy is so wonderful and perfect. Not today. Not ever again. If you love her so much, leave Mom and marry her yourself, because that’s the only way she’ll ever be related to you.”

  “Are you finished?” he asks wearily. When I only glare at him, he goes on. “I’m not here to talk about Lucy. I’m here because I’ve failed you and I want to try making it up to you. We both know I’ve made mistakes and I’m not going to be around forever, and I don’t want to spend however long I have left fighting with you.”

  “You think I want to fight?” I reply. “Dad, this is supposed to be the happiest day of my life. I’m marrying the girl who means more to me than anybody else in the world, the one I should have been with all along. I’ve made my own mistakes even with you trying to stop me from making them. And this time I’m not letting anybody get in the way of our relationship. Not even you.”

  He nods slowly as he takes in
my words. “You know, your grandfather on your mother’s side never liked me,” he states matter-of-factly. “From the second he laid eyes on me, he wanted me as far from his daughter as humanly possible. And it certainly didn’t help things when Diane left with me after boot camp; her father thought I was taking her away from her family. Until the day he died, he never had a kind word to say to me. Hell, even the day he died he had nothing but insults for me.”

  “So you know what it’s like for the family of the person who means most to you to alienate you and not accept you?” I ask. “You knew all that and you still made Samantha feel like shit time and time again.”

  “And for that, I was wrong,” he replies. “All I saw at the time was some girl you hardly knew, yet you were obsessed with her. I didn’t know her or where she came from or who she was or what her intentions towards you were—”

  “And you never took the chance to find out,” I interrupt. “You jumped to conclusions about someone who is a better person than the two of us put together. Yes, she has her flaws, she’s not perfect, but that is what I love about her. I accept her flaws and she finds the strength to deal with me and my family and my work and everything else in my life. She’s amazing, Dad. You would know that if you gave her a chance.”

  He smiles sadly. “I suppose the fact that she didn’t run screaming from the boat the day she met all of us should have been a clue,” he says wryly. I reluctantly chuckle, nodding. “Look, I know I don’t say it enough, but I am proud of you, Matthew. Not just your career; you’ve made a beautiful family and you’re not just giving up.”

  “We have to fight for what we want,” I tell him. “And I want Samantha. End of story.”

  “I’m sorry, Matt, for all of this. I do want the chance to get to know her. I want to be in my grandchildren’s lives. If you’ll let me.”