Endurance
Alexandra Silva
Contents
Letter to the Reader
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Epilogue
The Salvation Society
Books by Alexandra Silva
Endurance Playlist
Acknowledgments
About Alexandra Silva
www.alexandrasilva.co.uk
Copyright © 2020 Alexandra Silva
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters and places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, The Salvation Society © Corinne Michaels, or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.
Cover Designer: LJ Designs
Editor: One Love Editing
Proofreader: Gem’s Precise Proofreads
For Nanna P.
You were the most wonderful and strongest woman I’ve ever known.
Even though your memories might’ve blurred and your limbs stopped coopoerating, you were and forever will be the best grandmother in the world.
Thank you for teaching me to be brave and for pushing me to fight for all I’ve ever wanted.
I love you with all my heart.
Letter to the Reader
Dearest reader,
I can’t say how much this story means to me, or in fact the opportunity to write such incredible characters that have already touched the hearts of so many. Defenseless is the book that touched me. Mark and Charlie’s story never ceases to make me laugh, cry and even awaken my inner badass. And I am so very honoured to be writing in their world.
If you’ve read me before, you’ll know that I like my characters flawed and raw. And they don’t come much more so than Garrett and Avery. None of my stories are easy, but this one is especially heartwrenching. It touches on some subjects and harsh realities that some may find hard to read, but rest assured that it is always worth it in the end.
I’d like to thank you for taking a chance on Endurance. If you would like to get to know Garrett’s business partner, be sure to check out his three-part short story available to read exclusively on Book + Main.
https://bookandmainbites.com/bite/32392
Again, thank you for reading and for supporting this expanding world.
Much love,
Alex ♥︎
P.S. If you have experienced or are experiencing any of the issues addressed in this story, know that you are not alone. Never suffer in silence.
National Domestic Abuse Helpline UK: https://www.nationaldahelpline.org.uk/
CAWC US: https://www.cawc.org
Canadian Women’s Foundation: https://canadianwomen.org/
White Ribbon AU: https://www.whiteribbon.org.au/
Chapter One
AVERY
Two months earlier…
I knew that one day I would be standing here. What I didn’t know was that it would be this soon. The pastor closes his bible, holding it to his chest as Dad’s casket is lowered into the earth. He was fifty-nine years old, ready to retire and enjoy the rest of his life. Now he’s gone.
Iris steps back into me, and I hold my seven-year-old daughter as tight as I can while the guests sing along to “Abide With Me.” It used to be Dad’s favorite hymn; he’d sing at the top of his lungs during every service.
I swallow down the barrage of tears that clog my chest, squeezing my heart in such a way that it aches with every beat. My lips are moving as each guest pays their respects, but I don’t actually know what I’m saying.
“I’m sorry, doll.” Mike, my father’s partner, nods at me before grabbing a handful of soil and dropping it into the open grave. I don’t know what he’s whispering down at Dad, but there’s a look on his face that only makes my heart ache through the numbness in my chest.
“I’m devastated, darling.”
I nod at Congressman Erickson’s mother, hugging Iris closer. Priscilla and my father have been close friends since I can remember. He used to play golf with her late husband, and once Dominic decided to run for Congress, he managed his campaigns.
“A heart attack,” she sighs sadly. “And so sudden…”
“Mom, you’re holding up the line.” Dominic squeezes my shoulder, and it takes everything for me not to shudder with the sharp pain throbbing there. “We’ll see you at the wake.”
He urges his mother onward, leaving me suffocated by pain and closely guarded by the man who caused the physical share of it. Person after person shares their sympathy until the dark, burgeoning clouds decide to spit.
“Mommy, does this mean Pop is happy?” Iris holds out her hand to catch the drops. “He loved the rain.”
“I think it does,” I manage to tell her with only a crackle in my voice as we walk to the processional car waiting on the gravel path.
I slip in behind Iris as the driver opens the door and Carl slides in on the other side. The tinted windows darken the already foreboding day. July days in Washington are ordinarily sunny and hot; today, however, has been cloudy and wet. I’m ready for it to be over. To go home and finally breathe out all the pain.
“Sit in your own seat,” Carl tells Iris when she climbs onto my lap. “You’re a big girl, you don’t need to act like a baby.”
Sitting between us, she fusses over the black skirt of her cotton dress, tracing the broderie pattern with silent sobs. He’ll probably punish me for babying her, but I can’t watch her cry in silence. Not today. Buckling her in, I pull her into my side, brushing her blonde waves back.
“You know what comes after the rain?”
With reddened eyes, she smiles faintly at me as we both look out of the window. “A rainbow.”
“Yeah, so now that Pop is an angel, he’ll paint you all the rainbows to make you smile.”
“I miss him already.”
“Me too, baby.”
I take a deep breath to steel myself and hum along to the hymn that’s echoing on repeat in my head as I sink back into the seat. Tears build in the back of my eyes, threatening to escape with every bump on the drive.
“Stay away from Dominic Erickson.” Carl’s sharp order breaks the silence as the car comes to a stop. When I don’t acknowledge it, he asks, “You hear me?”
God, I wish he’d give me one day free of his crap.
My head is pounding, every inch of my body is sore, and my insides are pulverized by grief.
“Avery.”
“Yes!” I regret my snappy response the minute it bursts from my lips. “Yes, I heard you.”
“Good,” he asserts, getting out and heading inside my childhood home.
Last time I was here was to pick up Dad’s burial suit a little over a week ago. Like it did then, my heart finds a way of breaking some more. I thought it was crumbled to pieces already.
“Mommy?”
Hearing the waver in Iris’s voice, I loosen her seatbelt and pull her onto my lap. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to take her in there and remind her that her grandfather won’t be there to chase her around the hallways and yard. God give me strength because I don’t think I can walk in there and face all the memories ghosting every wall. All those people from the funeral. Some are complete strangers to me.
“It’s going to be okay.” I’m not sure whether or not it will be. Right now, it seems we’re still falling down an endless rabbit hole.
It’s exhausting. The constant apprehension of when I’ll hit the bottom and not knowing how I’ll be able to pick myself up. I’m certain it’s going to happen no matter how hard I’m fighting to hold it off.
“When you’re ready, Mrs. Henderson.” The driver opens our door to the stone steps leading to the dark wooden front doors.
“Thank you.”
Holding tightly to Iris’s hand, I count each step that takes me closer to the doors. Pink and yellow perennials line the lawned borders on either side.
With his warning glinting in his eyes, Carl opens one of the doors, then waits for me and Iris to walk ahead of him into the house before he enters behind us. Instantly, I feel trapped with the sound of muted chatter coming from the opened-up dining room to my right and the formal sitting room to the left. The terrace doors are opened up at the back, but guests are milling around in the great room.
I can’t do this. Panic starts to build inside my chest as eyes pause on us.
“Don’t cause a scene.” Carl presses us forward.
He’s right. I need to hold myself together and push onward. In a few hours everyone will leave, and it won’t matter whether I cry silently or in the shower as I’ve done every night for the last two weeks.
Like the last time I came here, I’m staggered by the warm scent that envelops me the farther we make it into the house. The faintest hint of Old Spice lingers in the air from years and decades of my father walking these floors.
“Come on, darling, let’s get you a drink and some fresh air, huh?” Priscilla links her arm with mine while picking Iris up to sit her on her hip. “These things get stuffy, and you don’t need that right now.”
I don’t miss Carl’s glare as I look back, but even knowing that this is going to end badly, I can’t bring myself to shake her off. Priscilla is one of the few people here today who Dad genuinely loved. She’s straight-talking and a little overbearing, especially with Dominic, but she’s kind. She reminds me of Mom.
“You did great with the service. Your father will be happy it wasn’t an overindulgent, drawn-out affair.”
“I thought he’d love the same order as Mom.”
“It was beautiful.” She squeezes me to her side as we walk through the kitchen to the private study hidden away to one side of the house, overlooking the small rosebush maze.
The french doors are wide open with the scent of damp earth and roses tinging the air. We’re barely through the door when Priscilla draws me into her, hugging me to her chest.
“He wouldn’t want you to hold it all in,” she tells me, swaying me from side to side.
“I know, but it’s easier this way.”
“Just because it’s easy, it doesn’t make it right.”
“I know that too.”
“Daddy said classy girls don’t cry in front of people.”
“Your daddy wouldn’t know class if it bit him in the bee-hind!” She sits Iris on the edge of the desk, fussing with her hair while keeping me pressed to her.
“Cece…” I admonish her jibe lightly, pulling away from her to sit beside Iris.
One of the doors to the wet bar behind the dining room opens, and Dominic walks in with a tray of drinks. More drinks than bodies.
“OJ for you,” he says, putting the tray down on the sideboard and holding out a small glass to Iris. When she takes it, he grabs another glass and hands it to me. “G and T without the G. How’re you holding up?” He adds the latter in as though it’s an ordinary question.
Dominic is a politician through and through with the added bonus that he’s also as honest and down-to-earth as they come. It’s easy to see why Dad believed in him so much.
When I don’t reply, he smiles faintly. “Sucks, I know. And if you don’t want to go out there, there is enough tonic to last the next few hours.”
“You’re not kidding.” I manage my first laugh in what seems like forever.
Dominic sits on the couch opposite the desk while Priscilla sits closer on one of the formal armchairs, patting her lap for Iris to sit with her.
“The service was nice,” he tells me, plucking a peacock feather from the vase on the end table and tickling Iris’s face with it.
“It was.” My statement is lost in Iris’s laughter, the best sound I’ve heard today.
“I’d bet everyone’s already said that…”
“And that they’re sorry.”
My gaze rests on one of the few family photos we have with Mom and Dad both holding Iris when she was born. Dad used to talk about being with her again one day. There’s a small comfort in that thought, that they’re together and happy.
Dom keeps tickling Iris until she announces she needs to pee, and Priscilla insists on taking her.
“I don’t really understand these things,” Dom says after a silent beat. “I mean, wedding and baby parties…I get those, but wakes? I’m not sure who wants anyone around when they’re trying to cope with their loss.”
“Half of those people out there are strangers to me. I couldn’t tell you how they knew Dad or if they even truly liked him, but they’re here.”
“Rob was a good man—you wouldn’t want to mess with him, but he was one of the good ones.” He stops as Carl’s voice echoes down the hall. “Where’s your mom?”
“I should go mingle.” Without hesitation, I stand, brushing the skirt of my dress down and heading out of the study.
“Avery,” Dom calls, low enough that it won’t leave the room. “If you ever need anything…”
“I’m okay.” I can barely say the words without bursting with grief and fear, but I push through it with the best smile I can muster.
“Robert was good to me from the beginning to—” He pauses, looking stricken.
“To the end.”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you for coming,” I manage to murmur as tears flood my eyes.
Dom doesn’t understand how much my father admired him, and his admiration was hard-won.
“I wouldn’t have missed it.” He swallows and for a moment, the put-together and graceful face of Congressman Erickson slips. He’s just Dominic. “Anything, Avery, I’m always here. You can call me anytime.”
“I’ll see you before you leave.”
I’m almost out of the door when Carl walks in. His stare flits between Dom and me, making my heart race with certainty that I’m going to know about the anger glinting in his eyes.
“People are asking for you.”
“Iris had to use the bathroom,” I tell him, trying to keep my tone nonchalant.
“She should be with her mother, not—”
“Yes, I know. I needed a moment and…”
“And Mom, being Mom, forced her to take it.” I know he’s trying to help, but every word he utters makes me want to beg him to leave us.
“You said people were asking for me?” I walk past Carl, trying not to flinch when he grabs my arm and we walk down
the hallway. The bruise from last night’s argument is still throbbing, and as he tightens his grasp, I can’t hold in the whimper that escapes me. “You’re hurting me.”
“I told you to stay away from him.” Fingertips dig into my smarting flesh, each aching throb hammering through my pulse. “You want people to think you’re a whore?”
There’s no point in arguing that Dom and I are nothing more than friends. He’s got a girlfriend, and he’s not the kind to betray someone’s trust or hurt them.
“You’re my wife. You walk the line I draw. I won’t be made a fool of.”
“I’m not thinking straight. I’m sorry,” I apologize the second he pulls me into the utility room between the kitchen and bathroom.
He doesn’t give me a chance to get my bearings before he’s in my face, crowding me into one of the corners of the room. Grabbing my jaw, he holds me against the wall.
“You don’t talk to him or his mother again. You don’t talk to any of that family, you got me?”
I nod, trying to get a hold on his wrists to hopefully loosen his grasp.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
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