Legacy: A Salvation Society Novel

by Rachel Robinson

  “Bullshit,” I say, even as my heart hammers out of my chest. “I haven’t heard from her.”

  She’s the kind of woman who would want to tell me this news herself. She wouldn’t send a messenger. Even still, I do the math. The last time we were together would have been about right. I used protection. I always use protection. Never once in all of my years of fucking have I forgone a condom.

  “It’s impossible,” I say.

  When my fork clanks on my plate, Aara looks over her shoulder.

  “Chantal doesn’t want you to know. She plans to steamroll you. I heard it from the chick I fucked last night. She told her and now I know. There you go, my friend. Tell me how that’s going to work out for your little side project. She ready to be a stepmom?”

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Closing my eyes, I pinch the bridge of my nose. Chantal put the condom on the last time we fucked. But that wasn’t out of the ordinary. She knew what she was doing. Was it purposeful? Was she trying to get pregnant? I’ve heard about desperate women like that, but she talked about a future, a career after the club scene. She didn’t want a family. Sure, she wanted a boyfriend, but that’s a far fucking cry from a newborn.

  “Yeah, we’ll see about that. I’ll do some of my own research. Thanks for the heads up.” Even if I’m pissed at him, I can’t deny he did me a solid.

  “She’s still pissed, dude. Careful,” Chase warns.

  “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m not afraid of her.” In fact, I’m pissed. At the prospect of being tied to her for something that couldn’t have been my fault.

  He clicks his tongue. “You should be. A woman scorn isn’t something to fuck with. I’ve had my fair share of close daddy encounters over the years and rarely do they end with both parties completely satisfied.”

  What an odd way to describe his whoring. I know for a fact he’s not as careful as I am, though, so I take it at face value. Chase fucks up. I don’t.

  “I get it.”

  Aara left the dining room, her plate at the end of the table. She must have gone into the sitting room, or further over to the guest rooms and the movie theatre.

  “Gotta go, man. Talk later.”

  After he makes one more joke about me fucking a SEAL, I groan and hang up on him. I can hear my pulse pounding in my ears as the reality of telling Aarabelle the truth settles. I have to. Or do I? Could I have this taken care of, or better yet prove that it’s not my baby if there actually is one before she finds out a thing?

  She’s sitting in a velvet chair, a book in her lap when I walk into the formal room. It has a fireplace that never gets used and more million-dollar views of the coast. “Hey. Sorry, I had to take that.”

  She looks up. “Everything okay?”

  No. “Of course. More Chase bullshit.”

  Everything is not okay and I need her to go to bed right now so I can call people to deal with this shit as soon as humanly possible. She reads it on my face. As her eyes narrow, she thumbs through the pages of the book.

  “Why do you stay friends with him? He just doesn’t seem to…care about you.”

  She chose her words carefully. “He wasn’t always this big of a dickhead. It happened gradually, a little bit every year, and now that he’s unbearable, too many years have passed. I’ll always care about him, but he will always test every strand of patience I own. Don’t you have friends like that?” Chase is going to be my subject change.

  “Not really,” she muses, standing up and setting the book back on the shelf where she found it. “What did he want?” So much for that idea.

  I look away. “Just to give me an update on one of our mutual friends.” Not a full lie, but it doesn’t look like she’s buying it either. “No big deal.”

  “But he called you for something that wasn’t a big deal. This late at night?” Aara brushes past me and walks slowly into the other rooms in this wing. She peeks in some rooms and walks by others, seemingly with no rhyme or reason.

  I follow, keeping a few feet between us. “Chase is a hard person to figure out. What he deems as something important, others don’t.”

  “It wasn’t important to you, then?”

  I follow her into the movie theatre and watch as she looks around. “Nope. Not at all.”

  She gives up on a long sigh, offering to go back to the dining room so I can finish eating. Instead of sitting next to me at the table, she picks a chair across from me.

  “I have some emails to sort through tonight.” When she doesn’t challenge me, I release my breath.

  “Okay, I’m really tired. I need to text Marissa and head to bed. Goodnight.”

  Aara takes her plate and disappears into the kitchen leaving me alone with my thoughts. Chantal is pregnant. When the realization makes me sick, I set my fork down and hold the sides of my head. I have a feeling a lot of horrible songs and a stream of apologies are heading my way.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Aarabelle

  Aaron Gilcher sits across from me at a café on the outskirts of San Diego. He’s in the area for a livestock convention and left me a voicemail while I was at work. I agreed to meet him, for the sole reason that I’m curious about his life. His kids are private on social media and his wife shuns technology altogether. The bits and pieces I garner is through stories my mom hears from her old friends.

  It’s weird staring at a person who looks like you, acts like you, but doesn’t know you at all. “I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

  Bringing a coffee cup to my lips, I take a sip. “It’s fine. I’ve been busy. You’ve been busy, I’m sure. There’s not much to catch up on.”

  He looks older now, the wrinkles cutting deep ridges into his forehead and the weathered skin on his cheekbones is sun worn. Life has not been easy for him. It’s both why I forgive him and why I’ll never let him in fully. “How is your family?” At the mention of something he cares about, his brown eyes flecked with gold, widen.

  Aaron turns away, doing his best to hide the guilt he feels at me mentioning his new life. “They’re doing well.” He clears his throat. “The kids are getting big and staying healthy. Rochelle is still doing her art. It’s a simple life we live. It’s good, kid. Arkansas is treating us good. After everything, it’s what I need.”

  I need. So selfish, even now.

  I swallow down the bitterness. Simple is a way of thinking. If simple was what he craved, there are always ways to make it yourself with what you have. Without abandoning a family.

  “Yeah, it sounds it. You’re still on the same farm near family?”

  My mom and Aaron grew up together in Arkansas, but Aaron’s roots to the place always seemed stronger.

  He nods. “I was surprised when your mom told me you’d become a SEAL. The first woman! You could have invited me to the pinning ceremony. It’s not like I wouldn’t know how much it meant to you. That was a big deal. Congratulations, kid.” Opening and shutting his hands, he adds, “I remember when it was me. You’ve got more of me in you than I ever dreamed you would.”

  Shrugging, I take another warm sip. “They only allowed me to send out a certain number of invites. The ceremonies are smaller now. Not like they used to be. And, I have more of my father in me than you could dream. You know, the man who raised me? The one who instilled the morals he deemed important, nurtured my talents, drove me to sports, cooked me dinners, kissed me goodnight. That’s who I have in me.” The brash words cause him to wince. “Don’t worry though. I’m sure your kids feel the same way about you. The ones you chose to raise.”

  His throat works as he swallows. “Ouch, kid.”

  I smile. “It’s fine. Really. I’m glad there was never any question who loved me.” I decide to launch into the talk I know he wants to have. Or rather, the talk I’d want to have with a family member I never hear from. “My brother, Shane, is at NYU studying graphic design. He wasn’t able to get back to the west coast for my BUD/S graduation, but I think he’ll be on break from college soon. Everything at the Teams is go
ing well.” I think about all the struggles I went through and continue to go through. “Gets a little better every day. I don’t know how much Mom told you.”

  While there’s never been a question of who my dad is, it’s Liam Dempsey, my mom has been a stalwart ex-spouse, giving Aaron updates when she deemed something important enough. “I’m on Team Five. Have some pretty awesome men backing me up. It’s surreal that I’ve finally got everything I worked my entire life for.” It’s like he never believed I actually wanted to be a SEAL even though I’ve been saying it my entire life. It was easier to brush off a rambunctious child, or even a moody teenager. Now that it’s reality, my truths are made more significant.

  He smiles. “Who is the OIC these days?”

  I mutter the Officer in Charge’s name. Aaron knows him and he tells me a story about how he deployed to Iraq with the guy back in the day. I try not to act that interested even if I am, because it’s giving him something he doesn’t deserve. My respect.

  “We’re leaving soon for the coast of Africa. It should be interesting to say the very least.”

  “I never got a deployment over that way,” he admits. “So, about London. Tell me about that. Quite a trip, huh?”

  I should have known even a weather-worn rancher who is all but disconnected from the real world would have seen the story about Henry Durnin. “It was a fun gap year? I don’t know what to tell you.”

  “That boy break your heart?”

  “What did Mom tell you?”

  He sighs, an awkward, jagged movement that tells me he’s been caught. “No, your mom didn’t tell me anything. Rochelle showed me a news article online, and I wanted to call you when it happened with that musician guy, but I don’t have your number and your mom doesn’t offer it because she says it’s your choice. She only gave it to me today because I was in town.”

  I look up to a television in the corner playing the news on low.

  He continues. “You’re tough as nails and I know you’re fine. Look at what you’ve accomplished. Even if I don’t agree with your career choice. It is impressive by anyone’s standards.”

  That gets my attention. “How can you say you don’t agree with a choice that is the same choice you made? You’re hypocritical. Delusional. A prisoner of one bad incident that you alone let snowball into something else entirely. First Brittany, then, then, her.”

  Technically a stepmom, but that word alone gives me hives. Brittany was who he ran to when he was released and my mom was with Liam. I’m breathing heavy now, trying not to let emotions get the best of me.

  “You know what? Your choice isn’t the same as mine. It won’t be. You let an awful situation, that you signed up for, mind you, dictate the rest of your life.” Shaking my head, I hold my chin proud. “You may not have been the man for my mother, but you weren’t any sort of dad for me either.”

  “I never said I didn’t agree with it. I want what’s best for you. That’s all I meant by it.” He shrugs. “It’s unsafe in the way training tigers are unsafe. I’d feel the same way if you chose to do that. I only pray that you don’t have to endure what I did, Aara.”

  His deep eyes do that thing, that reflective, thoughtful haunting where you know the person is somewhere else, far away from where their body actually resides. It’s a real thing I can attest to. Career SEALs have it. They’ve seen and done deeds that can only be blanketed for periods of time. The glaring memories always come back, unbidden, and unwelcomed. “That’s my hope for you.”

  “Hope is for those without skill, Aaron. I’m glad to see that you’re still…living your own simple life, but honestly for me, it complicates things when you call me to catch up. I’m doing great, point blank. I have a happy life. I have people that care about me. Parents that support me, and…friends.” Luke is on the tip of my tongue but I know I shouldn’t divulge that tidbit. He’ll recognize the name and someone else will know our dirty secret other than Marissa. I finally had to fess up to someone and she seemed like the most logical choice.

  “Just seeing your face, being able to tell you congratulations in person is enough.”

  I cast my eyes down to the bottom of my empty mug. “Tell everyone back in Arkansas I said hi. Hope you got what you came here for. Livestock or whatever.” As angry as it makes me, I truly hope I’m not looking at my future. It’s known that you always come back from deployment a little changed each time you ship out. To what degree differs from person to person. It’s not his fault he was taken as a prisoner of war—that he was declared dead while my mother was pregnant with me. It’s not his fault that his friend and teammate, Liam Dempsey, swooped in and fell in love with my mom and took his place. None of that is his fault, even if it doesn’t seem fair. Maybe that has to be good enough—something to hold on to. Aaron Gilcher did what he thought he had to do. I was a casualty of that.

  Now, he is a casualty in my life. “Let me get the check,” he says, signaling for our waitress, wide, gnarled arm in the air. My purse vibrates and I dig out my phone while studying his profile. His nose flattens in at the bridge just like mine does. His neck is elongated, graceful almost, especially juxtaposed on his stout, wide body. I love my neck. It’s one of the few things I can call feminine on my frame. My gaze drops to the text.

  Mom: You okay?

  Aarabelle: Fine. Just cashing out now. Same old Aaron.

  Mom: Don’t be too hard on him. He really went out on a limb to see you.

  Her response is not what I want or need to see. I roll my eyes so far back in my head I can see my brain.

  Aarabelle: Yeah, he really goes out of his way for me. Tell me more bedtime stories, Mom. Tell Dad I’ll be over for dinner. He asked at work today if I was going to make it and I wasn’t sure how long this extravaganza was going to last.

  Mom: Dad told me you’re living at Hart’s house,

  Aara. His bachelor mansion by the sea.

  My mom’s response is direct and to the point.

  Aarabelle: Oh, good. One less thing we have to dwell on during dinner.

  Mom: Your track record in relationship making decisions lacks…something. I only mention it because I talked to your ex today.

  That gets my heart pumping.

  Aarabelle: What did he say?

  Mom: We hashed out some details about his tour, and then he casually asked how you were doing. Where you were staying. He really wants to talk to you. He’s my client so it’s part of my job to keep him happy, but I flipped the script and didn’t give him anything on you. Maybe if you talked to him and told him where you stand, he would accept his fate?

  Aarabelle: Are you asking me for a favor? Can’t even wait to do it in person either. I told you about the conversation I had with Henry in my parking lot. He is delusional, Mom. Out in the stratosphere fishing for God knows what. I don’t know what else I could possibly tell him that would make him accept his fate. He made the final decision in our relationship. Not me.

  Aaron clears his throat. I look up from my phone. “Mom says hi.”

  “Tell her hi back.” I do, a quick text and drop it into my bag. “I know you don’t need anything from me, Aarabelle. You never did.” His voice is gravelly, full of something. “Sometimes when you heal from something big and tragic, parts and pieces don’t go back the way they were before. That was the case for me. I make no excuses.” His throat works as he swallows and I have to look away. The emotion in his eyes makes me uneasy. “Letting go of everything and starting over was hard.” He steeples his hands on the table in front of him. “You’re old enough now that an apology won’t mean anything to you, but it will for me. I’m sorry for not being there for you.”

  Of course, it means something to me. I was confused for a long time about who I came from and why I wasn’t enough for him to stay in my life. “You don’t know what will mean something to me.” I focus on his hands to keep my voice from shaking. His fingers have white scars cutting in different directions. “I appreciate the explanation.”

  “You
are everything I hoped you’d turn out to be, Aarabelle.” My name on his lips sounds unnatural. I wonder how long it’s been since he’s spoken it. “I don’t care if you’re angry at me for the rest of your life because I know the right man raised you and he did it well.”

  A lump in my throat rises. “He did. But honestly, what does that say about your other kids?”

  “That I was good enough to raise them, but not good enough to raise you.”

  It sounds like bullshit, but he’s trying right now. For the first time in my life he’s trying to do something right by me. “Oh.”

  “Oh?” he counters.

  “Yeah, I figured we would catch each other up on life and be done with it. This, uh, talk is unexpected, though I assumed one day you’d fill me in.”

  He hangs his head. “There is actually one more thing.”

  “Go on.” I gather my bag onto my shoulder when the waitress comes back with his change and heads away to a table adjacent to us to refill waters.

  “When I saw those pictures on the internet of you and that…guy.” Thank God he doesn’t say his name. “I thought maybe I could give you advice on something no one else can.”

  I scoff and let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Are you serious? I don’t want to be mean, but I have at least a hundred other people I’d go to for advice before you. What angle do you offer that no one else could?”

  His eyes darken. “I’ve made mistakes that no one could possibly replicate, kid. Big ones. You’d be a fool if you didn’t listen to what I’m about to say.”

  That sobers me. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

  “When life gets you down, and it will, more than once, you need to rise from the ashes of your mistakes and become the heroine of your own story. You are making your own legacy. Everything you have earned is because of who you are, not because of who your parents are. Never be the woman who they want you to be. I lost your mother and if that wasn’t bad enough, I turned into the villain and lost you, too.”