Endurance: A Salvation Society Novel

by Alexandra Silva

  I promised Avery everything, and I’ll be dammed if I fail to protect her. Physically or emotionally.

  “It’s your business, Doc, but you can’t protect her from the truth. At some point she’ll come to it on her own or someone will say something, and then she’ll be hurting because of the facts and your betrayal.”

  “Do you know why it’s mandatory to anesthetize a convict before the lethal injection? You know why it’s law?” Mark stands straighter, looking directly at me while he swills his glass over the green felt of the pool table. “It hurts beyond anything you can imagine. It burns through your veins, scorching and corroding until it reaches your heart. Sixty seconds of the most horrific pain anyone could ever fathom. They say it’s a minute, but for most it’s longer.”

  The room falls silent, the atmosphere taking an even deeper dive. Vocalizing it all only serves to make me feel sick to my stomach. By all accounts Robert was a great man, and “someone took him out like a criminal.”

  “And we’re going to find out who. We’ll make them pay.”

  “It’s too late for your brand of justice, Mark. Avery might be the strongest person I have ever known. I mean, even after everything she’s been through, she can still love with all she’s got…but this…this will destroy her.”

  With a deep breath, he levels me with that serious look that tells me he understands. That’s the thing about Mark—he’s straight down the line, but he’s also seen enough shit in this world to know that justice isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be. There are situations in this world that are in a gray space, somewhere that in order for your actions to do good, they fall between right and wrong.

  “It was a heart attack.” He nods. “That’s all she needs to know.”

  “If she ever asks—if it ever comes up—I’ll tell her the reality of it, but not before then.”

  Mark opens his mouth to speak, but before he can say anything, he clears his throat and puts his usual funny-guy smile on his face. Something between a grin and a cocky smirk.

  “What are you doing down here?” Charlie comes down the stairs in a long, black dress that grazes the floor. And the fitted cut along with the platform heels she’s wearing make her look a helluva lot taller than usual.

  I’m about to ask her if Avery’s ready, when she puffs up with her hands on her hips. “You had one job, Twilight. One fucking job.”

  “I’m not spying on the sitter.”

  “It was the only thing I asked you to do tonight.”

  “Christ, you realize that you hired a White House–approved nanny, right?”

  “One thing!”

  “On top of all the running around your mother had me do. No, actually, Priscilla asked you to do it, so technically I was doing it for you. A thank-you would suffice, princess.”

  Taking a few steps toward him, she growls, “Had you been doing the one thing I asked you, the two of you would’ve seen that Priscilla has done it again!”

  Mark grabs the cue, nodding to the pool table. “What has your mother done now?” he asks while she snatches the cue from him, and with one quick hit, Charlie pots the black quickly followed by zigzagging the white from the bottom of the table to the top, bouncing it off the sides with one hard hit before it goes straight into one of the top corner pockets.

  “She’s invited Robert’s attorney for pre-gala drinks. And now Avery’s about to come down to an ambush she really could do without.”

  “Pre-what now?” Mark asks, shaking his head as he takes the cue from her and follows her up the stairs.

  “Exactly, she’s being overbearing as always. She’s doing to Avery what she does to Dominic because she knows they won’t tell her to back off.”

  Charlie doesn’t stop her tirade until we get to the drawing room, and Avery is already standing there. With her hair swept over one shoulder, her pretty face is completely exposed. And there’s nothing but calm. A small smile upturns the corners of her peachy glossed lips when she turns to me.

  I’ve never seen anything so damn breathtaking in my life. The emerald green of her dress brings out the golden tinge in her creamy skin along with the natural light chestnut and caramel streaks in her hair. And while it has a plunging neckline all the way down to the top of her waist, she looks so demure and elegant with the way the long sleeves accentuate her slender arms and petite shoulders. When she takes a step toward me, the full skirt parts, revealing the slit that shows off her long legs, all the way to the top of her thigh.

  I can’t quite understand how I got so lucky. Especially given all the shit I’ve done in my life. Our glances catch, and she gives me an apologetic look.

  “I asked Priscilla to invite Sean over to talk about my father’s will, but he’s going out of town tomorrow, so I guess today is as good a day as ever.”

  “Avery.” The portly attorney calls her attention back to him as he shuffles the papers in front of him on the coffee table. “We can do this another time. There is no rush.” He looks down at his lap, his hand flattening over the papers he’s already laid out. His actions contradict his words, which makes me think he’s trying to pacify her because he knows something’s coming.

  “Thank you, but like you said, it’s better to get these things dealt with sooner rather than later. I’ve put it off long enough.”

  A trembling hand combs through the loose curls cascading to just below her chest, and I don’t waste another second debating whether to go to her or not. It’s been a couple of days already and I won’t let her go through this alone. The instant I’m at her side, she grasps my hand tightly as though that is enough to give her the strength she’s looking for. I hope it is. I hope I am everything she needs right now, as she is for me every tick of every day.

  “It’s all straightforward.” He picks up a set of papers and clears his throat. “He requested that I do this as soon as possible. Robert didn’t want you to drag out the pain. He was adamant that you read this before we carry on.”

  Sean picks up an envelope that looks like official stationery with an intricate S and W intertwined in one corner and Summer & Wells emblazoned to the side of it. There’s a low hitch to her breath as she takes it, and Priscilla starts for the double doors, ushering Mark and Charlie out as she leaves too.

  “There’s one for you too, Priscilla.”

  “For me?” She turns, flustered, her eyes widening on the envelope Sean is holding out in her direction.

  It’s exactly the same as Avery’s, with the exception of their names scrolled across the front.

  “Once you have both read those letters, I can carry on with the reading of the will.”

  “I’d like to read mine later,” Avery tells him with that wet rasp to her voice that tells me she needs more than just my hand to get her through this.

  Sean shakes his head in that way that attorneys like to do as a precursor to whatever negative thing they’re about to say. Before he does, I guide her to one of the armchairs on the other side of the coffee table and sit her in it, while I perch on the arm and rest my hand on her satin-covered thigh.

  “Robert wasn’t just my client, he was my life-long friend, and I have to honor his wishes. He wanted you to read that letter before the will, and I will not continue until you have.”

  “Sean…” Priscilla sits on the couch beside him. “You—”

  “I’m sorry, Cece, but those were his wishes.”

  Avery doesn’t draw out the inevitable; she makes quick work of opening the envelope, being careful enough not to tear it before she pulls out the folded note.

  “You should read yours too,” he tells Priscilla while I keep my focus on the way my hand molds perfectly around the top of Avery’s thigh.

  I’m waiting for a sign that she needs more from me. That I can do something more to help her in some way. In any way. Then she sobs, and all I can do is wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her into me as I grab some tissues.

  With my chest constricting around my lungs, it’s impossible f
or me not to feel the pain tearing through her as she shudders in my hold, hands trembling as her sobs turn into cries.

  “I’m ruining all my makeup,” Avery hiccups as she holds the letter to her chest.

  “Don’t you worry about the makeup, darling, it can be fixed.” Priscilla folds her own letter back up, slipping it back in her envelope before she folds it a couple more times and puts it in her dress pocket.

  “Let me know when you would like me to read the will.” Sean sits straighter as he skims through the paper he’s holding.

  “I’m ready,” Avery tells him, grabbing my hand and holding it between both of hers. “I’m ready.”

  “It’s pretty straightforward. I’ll start with the small things to make it easier to digest.” With that he pulls a leather box from the briefcase at his feet and hands it to Priscilla. “This is for you, along with this.”

  He places a bottle of wine on the table. It looks like a cheap bottle that was bought in a twenty-four-hour liquor store, but it makes Priscilla laugh so hard that the tears she was holding in pour from her eyes, heavy and yet still so happy.

  “Oh Jesus,” she coughs, picking up the bottle and inspecting the paper tag attached to it with ribbon that looks more expensive than the wine itself. “Of course, he had to make a big joke about the end. Robert was always so good at making you laugh when you least expected.”

  “He was.” Avery smiles, clutching tighter at my hands.

  “I’m glad we never saved the best for last. It tasted better when we drank it together.” After she reads the message on the tag, she holds the bottle to her chest with a long sigh. “He was my best friend after Gerry died. There was nothing he didn’t do to look after Dominic. He was always there, and I already miss him. Especially tonight.”

  Sean waits until there’s quiet again before he continues. “I’ll read the actual will now.”

  The first couple of paragraphs sound like the usual legal jargon, but then Sean clears his throat before he reads, “To my granddaughter, Iris Elizabeth Henderson, I bequeath our family home and the beach house in Montauk. I name my daughter, Avery Olivia Henderson, custodian of such inheritance until she marries, at which point it should be gifted on behalf of her grandparents, Robert Patrick Summers and Elizabeth Mary Summers. Should there be other grandchildren, the properties are to be split evenly between the siblings.”

  “You must explain why, Sean,” Priscilla tells him, getting up to stand beside Avery.

  I’m a little stunned for her, but the way she relaxes into her seat, her shoulders sagging with a long exhale, suggests that she’s relieved.

  “I understand why,” she finally says. “He was protecting our home. It’s in the letter—not in so many words, but it makes sense.”

  “Good, because it was the best thing to do given you’ve filed for divorce. It means the properties won’t be part of the settlement.”

  “He always did say that the upstairs was for thinking.” Priscilla taps her temple before pointing down at her feet and chuckling. “And the downstairs was for dancing.”

  “Too true.” Sean winks at Avery, nodding as if to ask if she’s okay to continue.

  When she nods in return, he reads the rest of the will which leaves the residuary estate to her with the exception of her mother’s jewelry, which he bequests to Priscilla. It seems like an odd thing to do, but I can only trust that there is more to it just as the property.

  “Finally, the most beautiful gift I can give my daughter, Avery Olivia Henderson, is freedom.”

  Avery smiles for the first time since I entered the room, her gorgeous sunshine smile that lights up my whole universe, and in spite of everything, that’s the only thing that matters. She’s happy. And it makes the weight in my chest lighten, and the tightness loosen.

  “Well, there’s only one thing to do now.” Priscilla walks to the drinks cart and brings four tumblers over. “We better toast Robert with this disaster.”

  “Indeed.” Sean stands, picking up a sealed file from the table and extending it to Avery. “Freedom.”

  “What’s in it?”

  “I don’t know. It was sealed when he left it in my possession, and as you can see, it’s not addressed to me. You are the only one he left freedom to.”

  Confusion flits over her face before she stands and takes the file from him. Weighing it in her hands, she turns to me with a shrug. “Maybe we can open it later? Together?”

  “Anything you want, sweetheart.”

  Every cell of my being warms as she burrows into me, her hands wrapping around my waist as she tells me, “I almost feel like I can breathe again. I was so scared that after this I would have to part with all those things my father worked so hard for. That he loved. I thought that I was going to let him down by having to give half of it away, but…”

  It dawns on me then that it wasn’t the material possessions Robert was saving, it was her happiness. Although I never had the chance to meet him, I can’t help but love the man for the way he looked out for her to the very end. In a way he brought her to me, and I cannot be grateful enough for it. And with this, I know that whatever happens, I need to spare her the knowledge of the reality of his death.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  AVERY

  The waiter walks past with another tray of smoked trout hors d’oeuvres. Holding it out to me, he offers me a small navy napkin embossed with the Capitol dome and the club’s initials scrolled below it. I don’t know how anyone eats something that smells so awful. The strong smoked fish smell lingers as the waiter walks away.

  “Drink?” Charlie asks as we swerve a small crowd of DC’s finest people.

  “We’re not doing this again,” Mark groans, taking the flute she picks off a passing tray and putting it on another closer to him.

  “Don’t be an asshole!” With annoyance painting her face, she grabs another. The waiter looks between her and Mark, unsure of whether it’s safe to come closer when Charlie crooks her finger at him with a stubborn glint in her eyes. “Keep ’em coming.”

  Although I don’t typically drink, I take the flute she hands me with the soft pink bubbly, cradling it in my hand as I hold on tighter to Garrett’s arm. People have been staring our way since we arrived. Their judging glances and accusing smiles have me on edge, enough that just looking at the trays of food floating around and the floral scent from the hanging arrangements mixed with the expensive perfumes has my stomach gurgling. The sip of the wine I had back at the house is still burning in my belly. Its acidic taste and dryness linger on my tongue.

  “Want some water?” Garrett asks, pressing his lips to my temple. “Fresh air?”

  “Please,” I whisper in return, nuzzling closer to him just as Priscilla steps into our circle.

  “Come on, kids, smile and mingle.”

  Charlie rolls her eyes, finishing off her glass of champagne before handing it to Mark and making a point of plucking another from the passing waiter.

  “Let’s go,” he sighs with exasperation as he spins her toward where Dominic is surrounded by another small group of people.

  If Dad were still here, he would’ve been standing by, close enough to listen to the conversation and rescue him from the awkward, leading questions. Instead, Mike is all the way across the room, talking to a man I’ve never seen in my life. Their conversation is heated enough that when our stares meet, it takes him a while to shake the annoyance off his face and reciprocate my smile.

  “Who’s that?” I ask Priscilla before she starts toward Dom. “The man Uncle Mike is talking to.”

  Searching them out, she pauses for no more than a few seconds before she turns back to me and says, “He’s some hotshot doctor. Married to a senator’s daughter. I’m not quite sure why Michael invited him—he won’t talk to anyone. Clearly his ego is as big as his reputation as the go-to nephrologist in the country. Apparently, he works miracles, so much so he’s been nominated for a Nobel Prize in Physiology.”

  Garrett tenses, and w
hen I look up at him, he’s got his narrowed stare on the man across the room. Something in his eyes is completely off, and the ticking of his jaw makes it all the more obvious.

  “Stop staring!” Priscilla hooks her arm through Garrett’s other and spins so that we’re now facing the open room. “It would be great if we got his support, especially with all his political ties. I have to say, I didn’t expect Michael to pull that one out of the bag. But then he was always the bull while your father was all about whispers and gentle coaxing.”

  The wall of french doors on the other side of the room is like a light at the end of the tunnel as I tug lightly at Garrett’s arm. When he doesn’t respond, I try to catch his gaze, but he’s looking over his shoulder back at Mike and the kidney doctor. I’m not entirely sure what’s gotten into him, but he’s never this distracted. It’s certainly never his style to gawk at anyone, except me.

  “Air, Doc?” I ask, hoping that it’s enough to bring his attention back to me. It doesn’t, and from the look Uncle Mike is giving him, he’s annoyed at his open curiosity, and when he gets pissed…God, even Dad struggled with that.

  I’m not one for open displays of affection, especially in these surroundings, but I would rather be the center of gossip than have to deal with Mike’s wrath tonight.

  Resting my hand on Garrett’s chest, I slide up to cup his jaw. “Honey?”

  “Mmm.” He smiles tentatively when he turns to me again.

  “Water and air?”

  “Good idea.” Priscilla pats his shoulder while nodding at a passerby that greets her. “It’s so stuffy in here. Fresh air would do you good.”

  Starting for the door directly ahead of us, I guide us through the room. Priscilla swans off toward Dominic as we push through the crowded space, navigating the pockets of guests. I nod and try to smile when they greet me. Not many have mentioned my father even though the pity in their eyes is obvious. And most of the women are too enthralled by Garrett to say much. I imagine they’re probably wondering how I could bring a date when my divorce isn’t finalized yet. Of course, they all know about it; their glances and whispers tell me as much.