by K. E. Saxon
Now to turn the screw a bit with his son.
* * *
Jason reached over to grab the remote. He had to get his mind off Julie. Because love her or not, it didn’t change things. She still wanted kids—and he wasn’t the man to give them to her.
Damn! He had to find something else to occupy his mind. Because he was not going to give in to the temptation to fantasize about her while he relieved the pressure in his jockeys.
The phone rang just as he was about to turn on the tube. His heart sank, then pounded hard. Dad. Was it the hospital again?
“Yes? Hello?”
“Hey ya, fella.”
“Dad.” Jason’s lungs decided to work again. He took in a deep breath of relief.
“I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No, no. I just got in.”
“Good, good. Listen: I sent you a package a couple of days ago—have you gotten it yet?”
“No, but it’s Saturday, so it may not get here ‘til Monday. I’ll look for it.” Jason twisted around and tucked another pillow behind his back. “How are you? Are you sticking to the program your doctor gave you?”
“Yep. Pretty much.”
“Daaad. What did you eat for dinner? Julie is cooking the healthy stuff for you, right?”
“Oh, I told her not to bother—she’s on a date.”
Jason sat bolt upright. “WHAT?”
“I said: She’s on a date—with Mike. They left a few minutes ago, as a matter of fact. Yep, I told her—”
“You let Julie go on a date with that dirty-minded bastard?” Jason heard something that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle come through the receiver before it turned into a cough.
“Sure I did! He’s a great guy. And he likes kids—wants a passel of ‘em in fact.”
Jason had to concentrate to get air in his lungs. “Where’d he take her?”
“He took her to some fancy restaurant in Dallas. Then they’re going dancing. They’re staying the night—”
Jason leapt to his feet. “BLOODY FUCK! She is NOT”—he swept his cell phone up off the table and started punching in Mike’s number—“staying overnight in Dallas with that sonofabitch. I’m calling him right now.” He lifted the cell to his other ear. “Dad, you’d better see Julie back at that house in no more than an hour, or Mike’s off the job. I mean it.”
“Now, Jas—”
“Shit! I can’t get a line out.” Jason growled low in his throat. Then he threw the cell across the room. It hit the wall before bouncing twice on the carpet.
He started to pace with a hand on his hip. “Dad, you’re going to have to call him from there.”
“Jason. She has a right to date. I’m not going to embarrass her—or myself—by coercing Mike into bringing her back.”
Jason felt the vein pounding in his temple, felt the blood-fury build in his chest. He couldn’t speak past the tightness in his throat. Would she do it? The old Julie wouldn’t have—not a chance—but now? Now that she’d had a good—damn good—taste of what she’d been missing, she just might. Hell, he would if he were her. Just to see what it was like with someone else. “Dad, I’m coming home. Call Mike right this minute and tell him to BRING JULIE BACK! Understand?”
“You mean you’ve changed your mind about making babies with our Julie?”
“Yes.”
“Whoop! It’s about time!”
“Call Mike. Now.”
“Yes, sir. Oh—wait. One more thing: You can’t come home until you’ve opened the package I sent you.”
“Fine. Whatever. Just CALL MIKE.”
Jason hung up the phone a second later and collapsed on the bed. He pressed the base of his palms to his eyes. What the fuck had he just done? He couldn’t be a father. Nothing had changed. But he’d have said anything just then to make sure Julie slept in her own bed tonight—alone.
Because the thought of another man touching his wife made him want to throw furniture, beat his chest, rage like a madman.
* * *
Gabe rubbed his hands together and grinned. If it weren’t so imperative that Jason read the contents of that package before leaving Dubai, he might’ve had his son on the next plane home.
He knew Jason hadn’t changed his mind about kids that easily—but he’d come damned close. And that was all Gabe had expected this first time around—just to give his stubborn son a big nudge in the right direction.
Besides, it was better that Jason deal with what was in that package first.
It’d be the safest way to ensure he was really ready to start his life over with Julie.
He tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. And now—Julie. He couldn’t leave anything to chance. No, it’d be much better if he turned the screw a bit with her, too.
Gabe let his head fall back onto the chair. Yes indeed. Life was good.
* * *
“Gabe said I had to ask you if it was alright before I kissed you goodnight.” Mike pressed his forearm against the doorjamb above Julie’s head and leaned into her.
Julie smiled a little nervously. “Gabe’s become very protective of me since…well, since Jason and I…since our marriage ended.”
Mike smiled, too. “Yeah, I noticed. So? How about it?”
“Uhmm…okay. Sure.”
Mike bent down and touched his lips to hers, surprising her with his gentleness. He tasted of peppermint. It was warm. Nice.
But it wasn’t Jason. She pulled back. “Goodnight. I had a very nice time, Mike. Thank you.”
“So…how about trying this again next Saturday?”
“Oh—okay. Yes, I mean. I’d—I’d like that very much.”
“I’ll call you.”
Julie nodded. “Well—goodnight again.” She turned and walked into the house. He’s a nice guy—handsome. And not pushy. You can do this.
* * *
On Monday, late in the afternoon, the package arrived. And within ten minutes of opening it and reading the letters inside, Jason dialed the number to his dad’s cell phone.
“Hel—”
“What’s this crap you sent me?”
“Didn’t you read it?”
“Yeah, I read it—who the hell is Dorothy Dillon?” But he knew. He knew exactly who she was. The mother.
“Did you read the card, too?”
“You mean the one from the rapist? How could you send these to me? How?” Jason stood up and stormed over to the trash bin. “I’m tossing them. That’s where they belong—that’s what they are: garbage.” His whole arm shook as he threw the letters toward the receptacle. One missed.
“You’ve got to deal with it sometime.”
His ears started to ring. He strode over to the mini-bar and jerked open the door. He didn’t look at what he took, but he grabbed four mini-bottles of liquor and then tossed three of them on the bed. He opened the fourth and drank it down in one swallow.
“Jason? What’s going on? You still there?”
“I’m not doing it, Dad. I’m not.”
He slammed the receiver down.
* * *
The phone rang as Julie was slicing the tomato for her and Gabe’s lunch salad. She wiped her hands on the towel and picked it up. “Hello?”
“Julie—God, it’s good to hear your voice.”
She held tight to the counter to steady herself. “Hello, Jason. How are you? Gabe’s in the other room, I’ll just go—”
“No! No, it’s you I’m calling. I—I need to talk to you. Get your opinion about something. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Look. This is—can you go to our—to your bedroom and close the door? I don’t really want my dad to know what we’re talking about.”
“Sure.”
After Julie was well settled on the bed with the cordless up to her ear again, she said, “Okay, I’m ready.” And then she nearly bit her tongue off, hoping he didn’t read a different nuance into the words.
But Jason was clearly too upset to notice, because he sa
id, “My dad—he wants me to—God! I don’t even know how to begin this.” She heard him clear his throat. “I got this package today—from my dad. And you know what was in it? A letter from the rapist’s mother! To ME!”
Julie sat forward. “Oh, lord. Jason—”
“And you know what else? She sent me some goddamned card from that sonofabitch son of hers that he’d sent to her over twenty-five years ago.”
Julie’s heart ached for Jason. He was hurting, she could tell by his voice. “Why did Gabe send you that stuff?”
“That’s just it! I don’t fucking know!”
“You mean he didn’t tell you? Send you a note or something to explain?”
“NO! I talked to him right after I opened it, but all he said was something like, ‘You need to start dealing with this.’”
“Oh.”
“Oh? Sounds like you know what he meant by that.”
Julie twisted the hem of her tank top around her finger. “Yeah, I guess I do.” She dropped her hand to the bed and leaned forward more, resting her elbows on her bent knees. “He wants you to come to terms with the past so you can move on.”
The silence that followed was still. Loaded. Then Jason said, “I suppose you agree with him?”
Julie bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut. “Yeah, I do.”
Another silence, and then: “He’s dead, you know—the rapist.”
She opened her eyes. “He is?”
“Yeah. He joined the Marines not long after…. His mother said he was seventeen when he—to my mother. He was in a gang. It was…shit!”
“What? What was it?” She heard the sound of glass clinking. “Are you drinking something?”
She heard him swallow. “Yeah. Whiskey—want some?” He chuckled, but there was little humor in it.
“Tell me the rest.”
“It seems I was the product of a gang initiation. Nice, huh?”
“Jason—you’re the product of Gabe and your mother’s love and nurturing of you. Period.” When she didn’t get any response to that statement, she said, “How did he die?”
“He was killed right here in the Middle East—his whole barracks—gone. Killed by a suicide bomber.”
“That’s horrible. Sad.”
“Yeah. Sad. Such a fucking shame. The poor rapist—killed by a fanatic.”
Julie bit down hard on her lip. She had nothing to say to that. She cleared her throat. “What did the letter say—the one from the mother to you?”
“Hah! This is classic—get this: The woman actually asked me to go to the site where her son died and TAKE A PICTURE! She wants me to send it to her—can you believe this shit?”
“And that’s what you wanted my opinion about?” she guessed.
“Yes—No—I don’t know! Yes. Yes.”
“Where is this bombing site she wants you to go to?”
“Beirut.”
“Lebanon! Too dangerous.”
“No. Not really. Hell—Beirut’s supposed to be a real party town. But, in any case, I wouldn’t be there long. It happened on the airport grounds, so it’d be a quick, easy snap, if I do it.”
“Then do it, Jason. And you should go see this woman. Give her the photograph in person—talk to her—let her tell you about her son.”
“No fucking way am I going to do that. I may—MIGHT—go to this site of the bombing, I haven’t decided yet. But there is not a chance in hell that I’m going to ever place myself in the same room with her. Ever. In fact—”
“I’ll go with you.”
“What?”
“I’ll go with you, Jason. You don’t have to do it alone.”
Dead silence.
“Are you still there?”
“Yeah, I’m still here.”
“Will you? If I go with you?”
“Why the hell is it so important to you that I do this?”
“Because I care about you—and—and I know that if you will only face this head-on, you’ll finally see the truth. Look with your heart, not with your head.”
He mumbled something in what sounded like French, but before she could question him, he said, “Okay. I’ll be at the farmhouse on Friday. We can drive from there.”
Julie heard a click followed by a dial tone. As she pressed the disconnect button, she gnawed on her lower lip. Okay, no building up your hopes. That’s the old Julie. You’re just helping out a friend who needs you. It’s the right thing to do.
* * *
Jason could not stop his grin. It was the weirdest thing: he should be pissed—agitated as hell—but he wasn’t. Not anymore. He was elated. By this time Friday, he’d be with Julie again. He swept all the clothes hanging in the closet between his hands and tossed them in the suitcase.
And then he chuckled, shook his head at himself, and took them all back out again. Too early to pack, guy.
But he was just so damned delirious. She’d all but admitted that she was in love with him. Plus, she’d volunteered to go with him to see this mother-person.
Well, didn’t that mean something? Like maybe she’d changed her mind about the kid issue? About not wanting to be married to him?
He sure as hell intended to find out.
* * *
CHAPTER 13
A while later, he called his partner at the office. “Paul—it’s Jason. Look—plans have changed just a bit. Can you come to Dubai a few days early?”
Paul yawned as he said, “Yeah—I think so,” and then more clearly: “Yes. I’ll have to shuffle a few appointments, but it shouldn’t be a problem. What’s up?”
“Were you asleep?”
“No, but I’ve been going over contracts for two hours and my brain’s fried. What’s up?”
“A family emergency. I need to get back to the States as soon as possible.”
“Your dad? He’s not—”
“NO! No, nothing like that. It’s something else entirely. I’ll tell you about it later—after I’ve gotten everything situated.”
“Okay, man. But I gotta tell ya, you’ve piqued my curiosity.”
Jason rubbed his hand over his stubbled chin. “Later, man. I’ll go straight from there to Vegas to meet with our new clients.”
“Yeah, that’ll work. I’ll call you later to cement the details.”
Jason agreed.
After hanging up with Paul, he called and booked a flight to Beirut for the next day and then a flight to Dallas on Thursday. That’d give him a night to recuperate from the travel and the jetlag before he saw Julie again—and faced the rapist’s mother.
* * *
By ten o’clock the next morning, Jason was well inside the Rafic Hariri International Airport in Beirut. Amid the chaos of last minute arrivals swooping past; the shuffling of luggage; the scuffling of feet; the slightly fuzzy sound of a directive given over the intercom in a staccato feminine pitch; the surround-sound of jumbled voices in a myriad of tones, tempos, and volume; and the distant wail of an infant, Jason moved toward the wall of windows.
For a very long moment, he studied the panorama of asphalt and cement, of runways and buildings, of cars and airport employees bustling about down on the tarmac, just in his view.
It was a little surreal. So different from the online images he’d seen of the area, taken over twenty-five years ago.
There really wasn’t anything left that resembled the place where the barracks originally stood. It was as if it had never been there. Swallowed whole by the ten-year airport expansion project completed a few years back.
His insides shook, but his hand was surprisingly steady as he used his cell phone to quickly capture digital images and video through the mezzanine-level windows of the airport. It was the best that he could do, because, after getting here, he was a little concerned that it might raise suspicions if airport security saw him wandering around outside, taking pictures of the grounds.
After he’d hung up with Paul last night, he’d spent a bit of time searching the net for information about the bombing
.
That, along with re-reading the card sent by the rapist to his mother on October twenty-second—only one day before his death—served to mellow, very slightly, Jason’s thoughts about the young man—boy—who’d committed such violence against Jason’s mother.
They Came In Peace. The words still haunted him. They had been, ever since he’d read them last night. The phrase had been found on a wreath left at the site not long after the bombing and now was engraved in the marble wall of the permanent memorial in Jacksonville, North Carolina.
The troops had been brought here on a peacekeeping mission in the conflict between the Christian and Muslim factions. At first, it had seemed to work—to stabilize matters. But then things went south pretty quick and Muslim factions started thinking of the peacekeeping forces as their enemy. That led to some aggression directed toward the troops; which, of course, was answered in like kind.
Things started heating up.
And then, about half-past six on the twenty-third morning of October, a suicide bomber, carrying the equivalent of six tons of TNT, plowed into the U.S. Marine barracks that the rapist—the kid who fathered him—was in.
The building collapsed, killing the kid, and killing well over two-hundred other U.S. servicemen.
Now, standing here, seeing the place and remembering the stories he’d read of the other men who died that day, Jason felt humbled. And grateful to them for their dedication and bravery.
* * *
On Friday morning, Luke shot out the front door of the farmhouse and bounded down the steps toward Jason as he was making his way toward it.
“Jason! Guess what? My mom said I could stay the whole weekend here with you!”
“That’s great, sport.”
“And look what I have—see?”
“Is that an anole lizard?”
Luke nodded. “Yeah—his name’s Godzilla. Gabe named him. I didn’t like it at first, but I do now that Mike showed me the movie.”
“You watched Godzilla?”
“Yeah, it was good! My mom got real mad at Mike though. She didn’t think he shoulda let me see it.”
“It didn’t scare you?”
Luke shrugged and looked down at his lizard. “Naaa.” He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah. But only a little—ask my mom! I didn’t cry or anything. I just kinda wanted her to keep the light on in the hall.”
