Hard Corps (Selected Sinners MC #7) (34 page)

JAK.
“The air conditioner is fixed, it was the contactor,” I said as I walked into the kitchen.

“Well, it doesn’t
feel
fixed. I’ll call the repairman,” my mother complained as she snuffed her cigarette out.

“Mom, it’s fixed. It’s fine. Close the windows and it’ll be cool in here in a few minutes,” I sighed as I walked to the bathroom.

I washed my hands and looked into the mirror. I felt all of the things I expected to feel with retirement, but reserved hope I wouldn’t. Standing and looking at my reflection, a different man looked back at me. I was tired, lonely, depressed, angry, ashamed, and unwilling to accept my past was coming back to haunt me. I felt mentally mixed up and I was physically ill. Although my mind was a mess, I needed to do my best to mask it and determine just what was going on in my life before something terrible happened.

Something even I could not resolve.

I leaned into the kitchen slightly. My mother remained sitting at the table with the windows still opened and the air conditioning blowing full force.

“Mom, where’s my box of stuff from the old house? The one I kept all my high school stuff in?”

“I put it up,” she snapped.

“Where, mom?” I sighed.

“You don’t need to go digging in that box. Graham’s gone Jak. Don’t go digging him up,” she said softly.

I tried to tell myself I didn’t hear her, but my mind began to race again. Since Karter and I left the restaurant, I hadn’t slept. Recounting past events and memories, my mind began to question everything. I had some things I must do, and if what I hoped to be a mistake proved to be true, my only resolution would be to leave this city and never turn back or…

Become a PTSD statistic.

“Mom, where is it. I just want to look at a photo, and then I’ve got to run. I’ll be back in a few days,” I lied.

“I put it downstairs. It’s in the spare bedroom with everything else. Don’t go upsetting yourself, Jak. When’s Karter coming home?”

“In a few days, mom. Alright. I’ll say goodbye on my way out.”

I ran down the stairs and into the spare bedroom. In the corner of the room was a large light green wooden chest. I knelt at the front of the chest and took a deep breath. As I opened the box I saw the photo album on top, right where I hoped it would be. Without opening it, I removed it, tucked it under my arm, and stared into the chest.

Hundreds of unopened letters filled the chest. Stacks and stacks of bound envelopes side by side filled the majority of the box. For the first two years of training, I had sent each and every letter home, unopened. The only mail I opened or responded to was from my mother. In my opinion, considering all things at the time, reading anything from friends would only cause me grief and potentially diminish my chances of successfully completing my training. As I stared at the stacks of letters, I wondered now what they may contain. Frustrated and unwilling to attempt to relive my entire past, I shut the lid to the chest.

I stood in the doorway and looked into the room as if I expected some form of response from the within the chest. I needed answers, and to get them I was going to go where I felt I had no business being. It wasn’t going to be a comfortable situation, but it had to be done. As much as I didn’t want to know, I knew I had to find the answers. Without knowing the truth, I couldn’t continue to live with Karter in my life, or even alone for that matter. I flipped off the light and turned from the room.

“Mom, I grabbed a few photo’s. I’m going to home for a bit and then I may have to go meet Commander Warrenson,” I said from the top of the stairs.

“You retired, Jak. Why do you have to go see him? Why Jak? And come give me a kiss. Since when do you leave without kissing me? What’s wrong with you, Jak?” my mother whined.

I placed the photo album on the floor and stepped over it and into the kitchen. As my mother scowled at me, I wrapped my arms around her and held her. She was the only woman I felt I could truly trust.

“I love you, mom,” I breathed.

“I love you too, Jak. What’s going on?” she asked.

“Nothing mom. I just saw a guy last night and he made me think of a few things. It’s not about Graham. I just wanted to see a few people. Nothing to worry about,” I assured her.

“Alright. Well as soon as Karter gets back, you two come over here for dinner, okay?”

I hope so, mom. I sure hope so.

“I’ll let you know,” I said as I turned toward the stairs.

“
I’ll let you know
if you don’t straighten up, Jak,” she huffed.

I grabbed the album and walked to my truck. I opened the door, and tossed it into the front seat. I gripped the keys in my hand and inhaled a deep breath. I really didn’t want to do this, but I knew I had to. It wasn’t quite thirty miles to Potwin, and even in my old truck shouldn’t take thirty minutes.

The longest thirty minutes of my life.

JAK.
If Bin Laden couldn’t hide in Pakistan, Shelley Peterson couldn’t expect to remain hidden in a town of 900 people. After asking the local cashier at the only gas station in the city, I had quickly found her address. Although I didn’t know for certain what she was going to do or say, I knew what I expected. This was certainly going to be a reunion I wasn’t looking forward to.

I parked the truck a block from where she was supposed to live. It was the same vehicle I had driven since I was in high school, and I feared she’d recognize it if i drove it in clear view of her home. If she did realize it was me visiting, she may not answer the door. I pushed the photo album under the seat and pulled the baseball cap I’d purchased down to my brow. I shut the door, locked the truck, and walked down the street of a neighborhood I had not seen in over twenty years. Reluctantly, I walked up the driveway and onto the porch. After a short pause and prayer, I inhaled a deep breath and knocked on the door. Almost immediately, it opened.

She remained petite and still rather attractive. It was obvious by the look on her face she had no idea who I was. As my heart began to race, and I mentally prepared for the worst, she broke the uncomfortable silence.

“Something I can do for you?” she asked.

I reached up and removed the baseball cap, “Shell.”

She stared as if she’d seen a ghost. After what seemed like an eternity, she began right where I expected her to, “Jak fucking Kennedy, war hero. You know Jak, it doesn’t matter how many people you think you may have saved in that war; you still killed him. Doesn’t really matter how long you were away, it’ll never change. You need to leave and not be bringing memories back here talking about shit I’m trying to forget.”

I took a deep breath and exhaled, “It’s not why I’m here, Shell. Can I come in?”

She swung the door opened and turned toward the living room. Hesitantly, I stepped into the house and attempted to settle her down, “Shell. We’ve been over this. I didn’t kill him. It was a motorcycle accident. An absolute accident. Sometimes things happen, and we have no control over them.”

“You son-of-a-bitch. Accept it. Admit it. You know I wouldn’t hate you if you’d just admit it. You two were drunk and you were racing. If it wasn’t for you, he’d still be here,” her voice became unsteady and she sat down on the edge of the couch.

Graham, Shelley, and I were best friends since we were ten years old. We were close at a much younger age, but became inseparable in middle school. Shelley and I dated all through high school, and most who knew us expected we would become married. Although in our latter years she had become somewhat unpredictable in her actions, I always believed I loved her. When Graham and I announced our intent to join the Navy and attempt to become SEALS, she was livid. She spent many a long night with Graham attempting to talk him out of going to the Navy. I believed she felt all along if she could stop him from going, it would prevent me from proceeding with my plan to become a SEAL as well.

We remained together up to the point Graham died. She blamed me solely for his accident; and after his funeral we separated. A matter of one day after his funeral, I left for training. She hadn’t spoken to me since, nor did I have any expectation of her doing so. Shelley and Graham were like brother and sister, and Graham’s death was far more difficult for her to accept than anyone else. No one quite understood the connection between them, or the pain she felt, but I did. She and Graham were like family.

“I’m sorry you feel the way you do about it all, Shell. I suppose I reserved a little hope you’d feel different about it now. I’ve never refused to believe what happened actually
happened
, but I chose to set the memory of it aside. I guess at least until the other day. I uhhm,” I paused and thought of how to word the remaining portion of my question without giving too much information away.

“Graham’s bike was green, wasn’t it?” I asked.

Since opening the chest and driving to her house, I had begun to remember things about my former life I hadn’t remembered in years. If someone would have asked me two-weeks prior what color Graham’s bike was, I wouldn’t have been able to answer. Now, I was recalling things about my early years with each tick of the clock.

“You know what color it was,” she growled as she stood from the couch.

“Shell, if I did, I wouldn’t have asked. Like I said, it’s really difficult for me. I have a hard time remembering any of that part of my life,” I said as I stood.

She turned to face me and scowled, “Yes, dark green. Is that why you came here?”

I pulled the ball cap tightly onto my head and crossed my arms, “Not entirely. I thought I saw Graham’s old bike the other day, but with a few different parts on it. I wasn’t sure. I knew you bought it from his parents after the wreck, but I wasn’t sure what you ever did with it.”

“It’s gone,” she grunted.

“Well, is it around here?” I asked.

She shrugged, “Hard sayin’, I suppose it could be.”

“What did you do with it?” I asked.

“I gave the motherfucker away, Jak. After fifteen years, I couldn’t stand to look at it anymore,” she snapped.

I better leave that one alone for now.

“You ever get married?” I asked.

She crossed her arms and sighed, “No, and it’s none of your business, Jak. Jesus, why’d you come here? To cause me pain? Maybe you should go.”

“I just wanted to ask about the bike. It was a Harley, right?” I asked.

“Just stop, Jak. Please,” she paused and placed her hands on her hips.

“Why didn’t you respond to my letters, Jak?” she sniffed.

“What letters?” I asked

“The letters, Jak. Don’t be stupid. I wrote you for a year. You never responded. Maybe once a month for a while, then I wrote once a week for a few months. I never heard from you,” she reached toward her cheek and wiped a tear from her face.

“I didn’t read any of my letters. Not a one, Shell. I tossed them out. To be honest, I completed the training not so much for me, but for Graham. At least that’s what I told myself. I felt if I had any influence from the real world, or felt any of the emotion from all of this, I wouldn’t make it through the training. For me, failure wasn’t an option. It would have been like I was letting Graham down. He wanted me to be a SEAL as bad as I wanted it. So if you wrote me, I’m sorry. I never read them,” I said shamefully.

I truly began to feel sorry for Shelley. More than twenty years had passed and she was still in the same place mentally as she was when I left. Regardless, I needed answers. No matter what her response was, I was quite certain considering all things I’d never see her again. She hated me anyway, and I was ready to bring this visit to a close.

“I heard you had a daughter,” I said softly as I turned toward the door.

Her face covered with wonder, she responded, “Who told you that? I thought you didn’t read the letters?”

“I didn’t Shell. I saw a guy in town, Little Petey. He said you had a daughter. What’s your daughter’s name, Shell?” I asked over my shoulder as I approached the door.

“Her name’s Karter, Jak. She changed her last name,” she said angrily.

Facing the door, I heard her begin to cry. As I stood and contemplated leaving, she said one more thing. One single thing that changed everything, “Jak she’s
our
daughter.”

My heart sank. My head spun. This couldn’t be. She was twenty-one. I was thirty-eight. I wouldn’t be thirty-nine for another five months. I joined the Navy when I was I was seventeen, in January 1993. Karter’s age made it almost impossible for her to be…

Fuck.

It was possible. It was probable. It began to make sense. I turned to face Shell. I felt hot. I began to shiver. I turned toward the doorway. My stomach convulsed.

“Yeah, Jak. You have a daughter.”

And I vomited. 

JAK.
“Jak I don’t know how I’m going to help you, I really don’t,” he sighed from across the large living room.

“Commander, this isn’t something I want. I
need
this. I just hopped on a commercial bird and flew here from Kansas. I haven’t slept in almost thirty-six hours. This is critical,” I shouted.

He began to plead, “Jak, I’d love to help, I’m just afraid…”

I was a degree of angry I had never known. The thought of the woman I deeply loved being my daughter was something I was currently incapable of comprehending or dealing with. The pain I felt when I considered
not
spending my life with Karter was enough to bring me to the brink of suicide. Daughter or not, I loved Karter. I loved her even now. Try as I might, I could not change how I felt.

The crushing pain weighing down on my breaking heart far exceeded the guilt and self-imposed blame from all of the men I had killed combined. Denying she was my daughter didn’t change anything. Over the last twelve hours, I attempted to accept the fact she was my daughter. All of the events began to make sense. As a matter of fact, it was almost undeniable. Karter was my daughter. I forced myself to believe it, yet I still loved her with all of my being. Now filled with tremendous guilt for loving the woman I had planned on spending a lifetime loving and cherishing caused me to feel ill. Feeling ill for loving her made me angry. I loved Karter and it was beginning to infuriate me.

The anger built up inside of me.

And I eventually exploded.

“Afraid? You’re afraid? The first time we went into Wardak province. The first fucking time,” I screamed.

He stepped back two steps and looked as me as if he believed I was insane.

“Who the fuck was the first one to volunteer?” I bellowed.

His face was filled with worry, “Jak. It’s just…”

“I wasn’t done speaking, Commander. Who was first?” I demanded as I began to walk closer to him.

He raised his hands to his chest and turned his palms toward me as if to slow my approach, “You were Jak.”

“You’re fucking right, I was. Now, do you recall how many confirmed kills I had on that mission alone? How many, Commander?” I shouted as I continued to walk his direction slowly.

“Jak…”

“Four. Four confirmed. You want to know about the kills not on the report, sir? Do you? Do you think I was scared?” I tossed my bag onto the floor and looked up.

“Kandahar province. 2007. When I caught that bullet in the back of my thigh. What the fuck did I do?” I growled.

“Jak, this isn’t about…”

“What. The. Fuck. Did. I. Do?” I growled.

“Jak I don’t remember…”

“You can’t remember? Well, I’ll never fucking forget. With all due respect, the fuck you don’t remember, Commander. What did I do?”

He took a deep breath, stared down at the floor, and sighed, “You dug the bullet out with your blade and refused treatment so you could go back in,” he sighed.

The anger began to mount within me. I nodded my head and crossed my arms, “Kunar province back in 2006, when we went in to save those Marines from being ambushed. Who carried three of those poor boys down that mountain? Do
you
sir, remember that? I sure as absolute fuck didn’t carry them all down at once, either. Remember? I went up and motherfucking down the mountain, taking fire with each trip up and each respective trip down sir. Over and fucking over as I was shot at by a hundred Al Qaeda.”

I recalled receiving the Silver Star for my bravery in carrying the wounded Marines down the mountain from the ambush site.
Gallantry in action against an enemy of the United States
.
My eyes began to well with tears.

I took the last step which separated us and tightened my jaw muscles. My voice elevated even higher, “Who earned the Silver Star in that mission alone? Over almost twenty-one years sir, I was awarded the Silver Star, Bronze Star, six Purple Hearts…”

“Jak, alright. You made your point. Exactly what do you need and when?” he asked as he raised his hands between our chests.

“It isn’t about making my point,
sir.
It’s about sacrifice. I sacrificed everything. And although ultimately it was for the country, I did it because
you
asked me to.
You.
Now, the time has come for me to request a service from
you
. I’m asking you to pull a few strings, not break laws. Are we understood, sir?”

I was exhausted and angry. He took a few shallow breaths and looked into my eyes, “What Jak? What and when?”

“I already told you, I need a DNA test,” I sighed as I turned away and reached for my bag.

He exhaled loudly, “What type of timeframe are we talking about?”

“I need it by tomorrow,” I said as I pulled the two marked envelopes from the bag.

“Tomorrow?” he complained.

“You and I both know it takes less than twenty-four hours. Like I said Commander, pull a few strings,” I grunted as I tossed the envelopes on the couch beside where he stood.

He crossed his arms, “If it’s siblings or distant…”

“It’s father-daughter. A simple test,” I said as I tossed the two envelopes on the couch beside where he stood.

“You in some kind of a mess, Jak?” he asked.

“Have the test performed, sir. I’ll be back in the morning,” I sighed.