Mended: A Salvation Society Novel

by Gabrielle G.

“Go ahead,” I tell Oliver, preparing myself for the worst to come. I have thoughts about what Andre might have hidden over the years and from the way I remember him looking at me with a little adoration and a lot of side glances, I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re speaking monsters in the closet. Chills spread in me at the idea. Could he be hiding behind the valor of our military while being real scum? It wouldn’t be the first time it happened, but it doesn’t mean I want it to be someone in my entourage.

  “So, Tessa not being mentioned anywhere in his life bothered me. Nothing she did since King’s death is more problematic than what other candidates could have hidden under the rug. In fact, with all my respect, using the narrative of King’s death should be an advantage for VanHorn.” I look around the table and see Mark nod, while Jackson says yes on the phone.

  “So, I thought… why? Why the fuck wouldn’t you want to use a heroic death to your advantage? The only answer I found came back to Tessa. It has something to do with her. I don’t know why yet, but he doesn't want people to know she was engaged, he doesn’t want people to think she’s from his family, he doesn’t want them to know she exists.”

  “But why?” Jackson’s voice interrupts.

  “Tessa,” Mark turns toward me, “did your stepdad like King?”

  “What are you thinking?” Oliver asks.

  “Well it’s not the first time a mission has gone wrong for personal reasons around here…” Mark winces remembering all the shit they went through the past few years.

  “True,” Jackson’s voice booms from nowhere, “but VanHorn wasn’t implicated with all that happened and I don’t think he has anything to do with King’s death.”

  “I’m just saying… you never know,” Mark adds.

  “My mother never approved of King. She wanted me to marry someone who could help Andre’s career or our status. But I don’t think Andre minded. They talked a lot about the time Andre served and how things had changed.” I say.

  “If I could finish, I would tell you more…” Oliver smirks. It’s a contrast compared to Mark’s face which seems lost in the past.

  “Go ahead, Le Pew.” Mark says.

  Oliver smiles, “Tessa is the answer to everything. It all leads to her.” Pride shines on his face. “I don’t have all the answers yet, but I will. Something doesn’t add up in your adoption.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “I can’t find it.”

  “But I bear his name,” I say. This was a big deal for my parents.

  “You do, but there are no records from adoptions anywhere. I checked the whole country, then where you lived when you were abroad. Can’t find a trace of an adoption.”

  “How do you know where I lived?” I ask him.

  “Not that hard to find. It’s Belgium, not Russia.” He winks. While my heart skips a beat and my brain screams for him to fuck me, Mark laughs.

  “You little hacker,” Mark says. “If there is something to find, Oliver will find it.”

  “Which brings us to the other thing I found…” Oliver says with a dramatic pause. His eyes find mine and they are full of apologies and excitement. He told me he liked to solve puzzles and I can see it now. He found a corner piece and finished the frame.

  “Yes?” I say to speed him up, my eyes not leaving his.

  “Andre VanHorn, Emeline Richards and Garrett Fitzpatrick were childhood friends in North Carolina.” I hear Jackson asking confusedly why we should care about a late NASCAR racer knowing my parents. I feel Mark’s hand on my shoulder, but all I can see is Oliver. “I’m sorry” he mouths but I don’t really care. He should have told me first. He should have taken me aside and said something.

  In what world do you hide this from your girlfriend?

  Girlfriend.

  I put the brake on my thoughts. I’m not his girlfriend and never will be. I’m just a girl he fucks to pass time while he’s in Virginia. A couple of dates and nights in the same bed together doesn’t grant me access to his heart or a Facebook relationship status.

  “Tessa?” Oliver’s voice annoyingly appeases me. When I finally pull my eyes from his, I see Mark watching me with concern.

  “You should tell them, Blue-hair.” I nod. Taking a big breath, I dive into the conversation I avoided all my life, the one I never ever told King, the one I was told I should never tell for my safety.

  “Garrett Fitzpatrick is my biological father.” Mark whistles. Having forgotten Jackson was on the phone with us, I jump when I hear his voice.

  “How the fuck don’t we know that, Mark?” Mark doesn’t have time to answer that, Oliver is answering for him.

  “It’s a well-hidden secret. You don’t find any trace of it anywhere. In fact, if Tessa wouldn’t have clued me in when we spoke about the case the first time, I would have never known.” I nod once more, remembering the last time we were in this room and when I told him about taking Andre’s name and trying to find the right words. Mark presses my shoulder again, not urging me to answer the myriad of questions I’m sure he has. I try to swallow, but the pain in the back of my throat feels like thousands of needles. Nausea tickles my stomach and I stiffen under the emotions I can’t process. Standing suddenly, I leave the room for some fresh air. I’m not surprised when I hear not one but two sets of steps behind me. I don’t need to turn around to know Quinn has seen me leave the room and is now on my heels with Oliver by his side. Going into the kitchen, I pour myself a large glass of water and gulp it fast to help my body temperature go down.

  “Tessa, I’m sorry,” Oliver starts, “I should have told you before.”

  “What happened?” Quinn barks. Oliver takes a step back and waits for me to tell my friend. Taking a big breath in, I comply.

  “Oliver just told Mark and Jackson who my father is.”

  Quinn’s brows furrow. “Okay… and who are we talking about?”

  “Garrett Fitzpatrick.” I wince. His jaw drops for an instant before he scowls. Turning to Oliver, he let it out.

  “Dickhead. Her parents aren’t a subject she ever discusses. It wasn’t up to you to bring it up. Don’t you know her at all?”

  I wince. Oliver really doesn’t know me. Not like Quinn does.

  “I don’t need to know her to understand her. And what I understand right now is that it’s time to come clean with a few things to help us see clearer and find some truth in VanHorn’s life.”

  Oliver steps closer and caresses my forearm. I let him do so, craving his touch.

  “Not to her detriment!” Quinn’s nostrils flare like a dragon spitting his heat.

  “Have you ever thought that the truth won’t harm her but would help her move on? I believe you need to have the best cards in your hand to play the best game, and Tessa has been trumped all her life with half-truths and a fucking bad hand. I don’t know much yet, but if you give me your green light, Blue-hair, I will find more. I’ll never let go until I find why they hid the truth from you.” If Quinn grunts and mumbles something I can’t comprehend, my anger and pain dissolve hearing Oliver. Slowly, I raise my hand toward his face and caress his cheek. He tilts his head slowly to kiss my palm.

  “We’re good?” he asks with a sincerity I haven’t seen yet.

  “Yeah, but next time you find something about my family, maybe talk to me first?” He nods against my hand and kisses it one more time before stepping back.

  “You two are disgusting. I want to throw up!” Quinn says behind me.

  “There is a bucket under the sink,” I answer, having found peace somewhat again. “Quinn, come with us to the conference room. I’ll explain everything.”

  So I do.

  For the next hour, I tell the guys what I know about my parents, or at least what I’ve been told.

  “So your parents never lived together?” Jackson asks through the phone.

  “No. I would see my dad regularly and spend weekends with him when he could.”

  “And when did VanHorn come into the picture?” Quinn asks.


  “I was four, maybe five. You know it’s one of those memories that exists because of pictures and stories you were told.”

  “Do we know what he was doing at the time?” It’s Mark's turn to speak. He replaces a few strands of blond hair and sends Oliver a pointed look.

  “Supposedly, he was a SEAL. Nothing confirms or denies that point of his story. He’s hiding something, that I’m sure of, but I don’t think it has to do with his military career.”

  “So should we drop the case and tell our client it’s none of our business?” Jackson asks. I can hear Catherine’s speech in his question. Keeping my stepdad in his good book is important for the business and if they got hired for a job they weren’t doing much of anymore for a while and didn’t find anything conclusive, maybe they should drop it. But something inside of my stomach is telling me I don’t want them to drop it. I don’t want them to walk on eggshells and hide things from me. I need to know the truth once and for all.

  Mark, Quinn and Oliver look at me and in unison answer to Jackson. “No.”

  “Alright guys, keep digging. But don’t take too many risks for something that could be a private matter.” Mark shakes his head at his friend’s words and Quinn rolls his eyes. “Or, whatever. Tessa is family. I just needed to say it. I have to go but keep me posted.” Jackson hangs up, leaving me with the three guys. Quinn and Mark stand while Oliver gathers his things. I stay behind, not really sure what to do and wishing someone would talk to me about what the next step is.

  When I’m about to give up and walk away from the room, Mark opens his mouth.

  “Okay, Murdock. I trust you to give Oliver all he needs and wants, and of course to answer the questions you have answers to. I won’t have time to look into it but Oliver is staying for a little while and Quinn of course can help, but I’m pretty sure you prefer to spend more time with Le Pew than with that asshole,” he says, pointing at Quinn. I shrug trying not to give myself away but from the twinkle Mark has in his eyes, he already knows.

  “I’ll take care of her,” Oliver says. Mark and Quinn burst out laughing.

  “I’m sure you will, Le Pew.” Quinn says, “I’m sure you will.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  OLIVER

  The truth will set you free.

  If I am ready to find it for Tessa and liberate her from the burden of the lies her parents told, then I’m a hypocrite.

  For years now, I hid the truth and my guilt from Elaine’s parents.

  I’m not even sure why anymore.

  I disappeared after crying on Mark’s shoulder, barely holding on at the funeral and didn’t say a word to anyone for five years.

  Pat coming and reaching out, telling me how proud he was I had become a father and how happy he was I came back to Virginia, had been excruciating.

  I wanted to blurt it all out, to tell him not to love me, not to be proud nor happy for me. I didn’t deserve him or his wife to be nice to me after I killed their daughter. I couldn’t bear it.

  But I’m becoming more and more selfish.

  Tessa is a big part of that change and I want to get better for her. I want to feel free of the burden I’m carrying the same way I want her to be uncontrolled by hers.

  I don’t think she carries any guilt about the death of King, the same way I do for Elaine’s, but I’m certain she needs all the help she can get to win at the game of life.

  So, stupidly, I want the same. I want to have my shit together to really appreciate her. It’s stupid as I will go back to my life in New York as soon as I’m done here—I don’t see myself living far away from my son—but deep inside I know it’s the step I need to take next.

  Mustering up all my strength, I knock on the door of the three-bedroom house I spent every Sunday night in for years. I never came here alone. Elaine was always holding my hand. I almost asked Tessa, but how weird would that have been. She also needed to go to the track and speak with her coach, and I wasn’t ready to set foot in there. I still need to ponder and think of the danger this could be. Of course, it isn’t the excuse I gave her. No one wants to know they’re dating a loser.

  Adjusting my bag over my shoulder, I desperately wait for the door to open, hoping Pat and Sue are home. I didn’t want to tell them I was passing by in case I’d change my mind. How many times can you hurt the same people when all they want is to be close to you and all you desire is to keep them at arm’s length?

  Maybe I shouldn’t have come?

  Maybe there is time to turn back and forget about sharing the truth?

  What one doesn’t know can’t hurt them anyway.

  But when I hear the lock of the door, I stay petrified they would see me walking away, like the coward that I am.

  Sue comes into view. Wonderful and lovable Sue, with her round cheeks and gentle eyes. Her face lights up when she sees me standing before her, and my heart sinks into the pool of guilt my life has become.

  “Oliver!” She exclaims, “my sweet Oliver, come here.” She opens her arms and I dive in, knowing I don’t merit the haven she’s offering but taking it anyway.

  I’m a taker. Always have been. I don’t give much, but I take whatever people offer. Well except for Anna, Naomi and Aito, and maybe Lars.

  I backtrack my thoughts. It’s the Sue effect. This is her power. She makes you feel like you’re worth something. One of her hugs makes you see yourself at your best. I shouldn’t indulge when I’m here to break her heart and make amends. I try to step away, but she holds me tight. I fold in over her, almost crushing her but it doesn’t matter. She’s not letting me go. And, greedily, I like it.

  “Let the boy breath, Sue.” Pat says from behind her. I can see in his eyes how pleased he is to have me here. Sue finally lets me go while Pat closes the door and taps me on the shoulder.

  “Welcome home, Son.” Dagger into my soul while he rips my heart out. If only he knew.

  “Thanks,” I answer, already choked up. Why the fuck did I come here? But he doesn’t let my doubts crawl under my skin.

  “Come on in, Oliver. What a great surprise. Do you want a beer? We have some of the ones you like in the second fridge.” Can they shred my heart even more? Pat doesn’t drink beer, but they keep the ones I used to drink. Ready for the day I would come back.

  “No thanks, I don’t drink anymore.” They both look at me with a surprising look. And then it happens. They really look at me. They see me. And it might be because I wear my pain on my sleeve and my distress in my eyes, but their face falls. All of a sudden, they understand I’m not here for a courtesy visit. I’m not here because I miss them and want to commemorate their daughter.

  “Come sit down then. I’ll get you a glass of water,” Sue says before trotting toward the kitchen. I sit on the sofa where I sat down with Elaine so many times and hunch forward. My eyes fall on the mantel and land on a picture of us. Happy. Engaged. In love. Averting my gaze, I fall into Pat’s eyes. They are wondering what I have to say. I can only imagine all the questions he has. But even the worst scenario won’t come close to the truth. I killed their daughter and grandbaby. And I hate myself for it.

  “Oliver, stop overthinking, leave your hands alone and look at me,” Pat finally says after a few minutes of silence. I try. I try hard to look up, to tell him all I have to say without a word, to be able to hold his gaze but courage fails me. I release a shaky breath and feel a tear fall down my cheek.

  “I’m sorry,” I utter before the sobs take over me. Sue comes in like the ray of sunshine that she is and sees me crying, takes me in her arms again.

  I feel better. I feel safe. I feel forgiven even before I say anything.

  “Oliver, what is it, Son.”

  Son. My own father never called me son. He barely called me Oliver.

  Another shaky breath, more tears and through trembling lips, I hear my voice telling them the truth.

  “Elaine was pregnant. We discovered it the morning of. We wanted one last thrill. I begged her for one last thrill.
She agreed. And then I don’t know what happened, but before my eyes, without me being able to do anything, without her calling for help, the parachute never opened. All she said was “I love you,” on the radio and then she crashed.” The arms of Sue around me become unanimated limbs. Her strength leaving her like it left me years ago. Pat stands and sits on the other side of me and without a word, wraps us both in his gigantic arms. Slowly, we wept together, in silence, the second loss of Elaine. The real loss of Elaine.

  “I’m sorry. I couldn’t tell you before. If I hadn’t asked her to come jump with me. If I didn’t need the rush. You told us so many times that it was dangerous, that it would kill us and it did. It killed her. I killed her. I’m sorry.”

  The torment of my heart comes out with tears of desolation and gets deeper once I hear the pain I caused through Sue’s lamentation.

  I broke her heart and will never forgive myself.

  Entangling their arms from mine, I stand and start walking toward the door.

  “Where are you going, Son?” Pat asks.

  Son. Will they ever stop?

  I halt and turn around, still looking at the floor. I will never be able to look him in the eyes. I lied to him and Sue. I covered it up. I was on autopilot and never said a word to anyone. I’m a liar and a coward. “Come back here and let us heal you. What happened is as much your fault than it is ours. We could blame ourselves for not insisting more on you two stopping this crazy life you had. We could feel guilty for never giving her enough so she needed more adrenaline and more danger in her life. But truth is boy, she died doing what she loved. She died in an accident. She died having a thrill. It’s not your fault more than ours. It’s hers. She knew she was pregnant, and she could have said no. She didn’t. She jumped. And as heartbreaking as it is for us to think we lost a daughter and a grandchild to be, we won’t lose a son to guilt. You’re part of this family, and I’m sorry you had to go through this alone.” His words are like a thousand spears against the false armor I wore the last five years.

  Wounded, I fall on my knees, and as my head touches the floor, I lose myself in a sea of tears.