by Seton, Cora
“What do I have to do to get you call me Georgia, honey? Get in here and give me a hug!”
I stepped inside and Georgia was already enveloping me in a warm embrace. It had only been the last few months that I’d attempted to get to know the Richters at all. I knew Coby because he was in my grade, and I knew Vince because he came home every winter and summer. But Jesse… I’d never known Jesse and I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because he was never here. I vaguely remembered hearing about the kid that went into the military. Now that I did know him, I could see all the family pictures around with younger versions of him in it. His boot camp picture stood proudly on the mantle with all the holly and pictures of their other five children.
Above the fireplace, the picture that had been there before had been replaced by a green and red wreath.
Georgia kissed my cheek and grinned. “I made the boys tell you to come over. They’re going to be very loud all day, so I figured you might like to sit with me for a few hours.”
Mostly, Mom was the social butterfly, which made me a bigger embarrassment than I would have been otherwise. I wonder how many times she’d had to apologize to Georgia Richter because of me in the past. Or if she even bothered.
“Mom!” Jesse’s sisters, Melanie and Ivy came down the stairs together. The twins were a couple years younger than me, which would have put them in their junior year of high school. Melanie glanced at me, but didn’t really seem to register it. “Ivy and I are going to the mall for a bit.”
“Okay, be home for dinner, and watch for crazies in the parking lot,” Georgia replied. The girls promised and took off. As the door slammed shut behind them, I glanced around the room. Unlike my house, the Richter house looked like Christmas threw up in it. Not that I minded. It was beautiful to me. I’d never really had Christmas until I’d moved in with the Morgans. Sure Brent had given me presents and stuff, but it was never like Christmas. I’d never been the kid who made ornaments in school. So all those pretty homemade ornaments on the Richter tree were conspicuously absent from the Morgan household. There were a few, mostly made by Damien as he grew up.
“So,” Georgia said. “Come sit.”
What I loved about Georgia Richter was that there was never any awkwardness with her. She asked me questions, wanted to know how I was. She acted like she cared about the answers. I wasn’t sure if she knew the real story about Brent or not. I was never sure who knew. The fact that I was adopted wasn’t a secret, but Dad had swept a lot of my legal issues under the carpet. There were only a select few who knew the real deal.
I would always be grateful to Sylvia and Curtis Morgan for taking me in without a second thought, and for giving me a second chance when I screwed up. Above all, I’d be grateful that they adopted me and treated me as their own when my dad didn’t want me back.
Jesse and his siblings had this great life that I’d never experience, though, regardless of how awesome my family was now. They’d grown up in a family full of love, never had to doubt that love. I wasn’t sure what Georgia and I talked about all afternoon, but talk we did, because I didn’t even realize how late it was until the front door opened and slammed and the not-so-subtle sound of male voices permeating the air broke me out of the conversation.
“Shoes off!” Mrs. Richter called. She patted my knee. “Boys.”
“Yeah, Ma, we got it!” One of them answered.
A moment later, three dusty, sweaty guys appeared in the entrance to the living area. Mrs. Richter launched into a tirade about how they were messing up her floor, and sent them off to the bathroom to clean up.
God help me, Jesse looked good even with saw dust and dirt all over him. As the three of them tromped up the stairs, he paused, and glanced back. Electricity snapped taut between us. I clenched my jaw, hoping no one could see how he was affecting me.
I didn’t like being like this about a guy. I’d never needed a guy before, and I wasn’t about to start now. I didn’t have time for him, and yet, I’d totally caved on going on a date with him.
“Charlie?” I snapped out of my reverie and glanced back at Mrs. Richter.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Are you staying for dinner?”
“I really shouldn’t,” I told her. “I’m… I have work tonight, so um… no. I have to go.”
“Okay,” she replied easily, and turned around, where Jesse was still standing. “Did I not tell you to get in the bathroom? Ugh, you three stink.”
I’d have loved to have a real family like the Richters, with real brothers and sisters I’d grown up from birth with. I loved Damien, and I wouldn’t have traded him for the world, but it was a different situation. If I had been born into a good family like the Richters, instead of having to find one later, maybe things would be different, and maybe I wouldn’t have been too broken to be happy, or too broken to consider dating Jesse like a normal person.
*
Jesse
As promised, I met Charlie at the bar where we’d first met. She smiled when she saw me, a genuine smile with no hidden reservations. It was the brightest thing, the most brilliant smile I’d ever seen. She wore a black skirt, tights, and boots that stopped just below her knees, which made her lean legs look even better. I couldn’t wait to feel the smooth skin of her thigh under my fingertips.
But there was something else I needed to do tonight. I needed to solve the mystery that was Charlie Morgan. I needed to finally set aside the doubts that Jane’s death had given me, and trust Charlie to tell me if anything was wrong. I kept replaying what everyone had told me, from Jason to Vince, and I needed to put those doubts to rest.
“Hey,” she said, carrying a dark blue hoodie with her. The blouse she wore had a blue flower print on it, and had kind of a glossy shine to it. She slipped her hoodie on and zipped it up. “Ready?”
I nodded. “Absolutely.”
She glanced down at her phone for a second, frowning, and then shoved it into the small purse she had. “So, where are we going?”
I smiled. “You say that like there’s a dozen places to eat in Sugar Falls.”
She shrugged. “Depends on what you call food.”
“I was thinking about Giordino’s,” I told her. Actually, I hadn’t even thought about where we’d go. I’d been concentrating too much on when I’d see her. But Giordino’s popped in my head almost immediately.
She nodded. “Sure. I love Italian.”
We left the bar together. I had Vince’s truck for the night, so I helped her into the passenger side and we drove in quiet peace to the town square. Nerves prickled along my spine and arms as I pulled into the parking lot and stopped. I unbuckled and ran around to the other side of the truck to open the door for her. She smiled and stepped out. I shut the door and grasped her hand.
Her fingers were cold. The air was chill, the wind picking up as we walked across the lot to the door. Giordino’s was one of those places that was pseudo-fancy. It pretended to be fancy in its atmosphere, but you could sit there in jeans and a t-shirt and not feel out of place.
I brushed my hand over the small of her back, gently leading her through the restaurant once we’d gotten a hostess to seat us. It was past the dinner rush, a little after ten now, so most of the restaurant was quiet and deserted.
Maybe it was the quiet of the restaurant that unnerved me, but the doubt and anxiety built up inside me like a balloon. Charlie wasn’t Jane, and intellectually, I knew that, but I also knew that she was in trouble and not telling anyone. That was how it had gone down with Jane too. Jane had hidden everything, and then one day, she was gone.
Her keen perception didn’t miss my hesitance. “Something wrong, Jesse? You seem upset.”
“I’m fine,” I mumbled.
“No, you’re not. Are you second guessing being here with me?” Instead of looking upset, she looked angry.
“No, not at all,” I reassured her. “It’s just… People have…”
“What?” Her eyes narrowed, suspicion clouding her d
ark eyes.
“It’s nothing.” I leaned back against the seat. I was saying stupid things again. Maybe Jason and Kyle were right. I should have dated more in the past than I had.
“I know people talk about me, Jesse. This isn’t a big town, and my dad’s the mayor.” She sighed. “Ask me your questions. I’ll answer them.”
“I don’t remember you when I was growing up. My family knows everyone.”
“Well, I don’t remember you either, but I didn’t go to school here until I was sixteen. My mother homeschooled me for a few years when they adopted me.” There was more to that answer too, but she was giving me the sanitized version. Jason had said she’d gotten in trouble when she first came to Sugar Falls.
“So…”
She sighed, resigned and heavy. “Let me make this clear to you, Jesse. I’m not a good person. I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life. That’s why I didn’t want to get involved with anyone, especially not someone like you.”
“Like me?”
“All bright and white,” she said. “You’re a damn SEAL for god’s sakes. You’re the epitome of a white knight.” Her eyes searched mine. I wasn’t sure what she was looking for, just that it appeared she needed to find something. A frown creased her forehead, and her eyes glistened in the light.
“I’m not that good, either,” I replied. I couldn’t save Jane. Didn’t that make me a crappy knight? I couldn’t even save my girlfriend from her own death.
“I was taken from Brent when I was eleven. He was into some bad things. He was… well, I’m still not sure what he was. I do know that he ran a con on some really bad guys. I was involved, as always, and… uh, something went wrong. I’m not really sure what happened after that, but the next thing I knew, social workers were carting me off to a foster home, and I was screaming that I wanted my dad.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes, but she rolled her shoulders back. I didn’t reply, just let her collect herself. Her eyes challenged me. She wanted questions. She wanted to be on the defensive. But I didn’t want that. I wanted honesty, and from her own words, not as answers to my leading questions.
When I said nothing, she groaned. “My dad never fought for me. He waved goodbye that day. The wonderful Brent Sanders, father extraordinaire, let them take me away from him without even a fight.”
“Must have been pretty hard for you.” Sympathy laced my voice. I didn’t want her to think I was pitying her. She wouldn’t like that. For the short time I’d known her, I had figured out she wouldn’t. She was proud, stubborn.
She shook her head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I suppose, eventually, someone else would tell you. It’ll cost me less heartache if I don’t have to spill it myself.”
I touched her hand, wrapping my fingers around hers, trying to give her solidity and strength. “Maybe I want to hear it from you.”
A tremble slithered through her body; I could feel it in her hand. Uncertainty built up like a wall between us. She was close to bolting. I could see it lingering in her eyes, the desire to run, the tenseness in her limbs.
“Tell me,” I whispered.
She took a breath and laughed. “I’ve told you mine. Tell me about your secrets, Jesse Richter.”
I didn’t say anything immediately. I wasn’t sure how much people around town would have told her. Jane and I… our sordid story was out for everyone to know. The Stephens hadn’t hidden from the limelight of their daughter’s death. They’d embraced it. But she didn’t seem like she knew anything about it.
“I don’t know why I pushed you so hard to go out with me,” I started. “The last thing I need is to be involved, especially since I am going back to San Diego.”
“You do know why.”
“How do you know that?”
“I see it. Remember, daughter of a con man?” She pointed to herself. “I’m really good at reading people.”
“Okay,” I gave her that. “I did it because it was time to.” I cleared my throat. “My first girlfriend died in an accident.”
“Oh.” Her face paled a little. “I’m sorry. What happened?”
My mouth was moving and words were coming out, with very little input with me. “She drove off an overpass.”
“Oh, my god!” Charlie’s hand went to her chest. Sympathy and pity filled her expression. But she didn’t understand. But I hadn’t told her the whole truth, and her sympathy felt shallow.
“No, that’s not right,” I said, the anger I’d repressed for years pushing its way forward. “It wasn’t an accident. She did it on purpose. She was high and drunk, and having problems at home. She stole her mom’s car and drove herself off that overpass.”
Charlie looked stunned. Jane had been two years younger than me at the time. She didn’t even have a license. My hands trembled in my lap. I’d thought that I was distanced enough to be able to talk about it. Jane and I had been close since childhood. We’d been each other’s firsts. But her death was still too fresh, even more than half a decade after.
Charlie still hadn’t said anything. She folded her hands in front of her and waited for me expectantly. But then she spoke. “She’s why you joined the military.”
“Not exactly. Her family found a way to immortalize her. They used her as a poster child for bad decisions. Her parents talk to the schools every year about the dangers of drug and alcohol use.” I almost laughed. Not because it was funny, but because Jane’s death had affected so many people differently.
“But not you.”
“I was never one for public speaking. I preferred to be the one doing the rescuing, pulling people back from the brink of death.”
“Hence the SEALs, who are always on the front lines.”
“Yeah,” I said, quietly. I didn’t want to talk about Jane anymore. It had taken much more out of me than I realized it would. My chest ached, still shattered from wounds inflicted five years ago. The skin had closed over, healed on the outside, but my heart still sat in pieces.
“Do you know why I changed my name?” she asked. I blinked. She clarified, “From Sanders. My birth name is Charlene Sanders. I changed it to Morgan when I turned eighteen.”
“Why?”
“Because I needed a fresh start. I wanted a fresh start. I needed to let that little girl who grew up with the con man dad die, and embrace a new life. The Morgans gave me that. They gave me a life I only dreamed of, and a little brother I adore.” She slid her hand across the table and held it out to me. On autopilot, I took her hand. “You know what I think? That’s what you needed, too. With her death, you were flailing. The SEALs gave you focus, a new priority. Am I right?”
I couldn’t deny she made a lot of sense. I’d always looked it at as atoning for the sins I’d committed by not being able to save Jane. But maybe what I’d really needed, what I was really doing, was surviving, by moving on. Only my brain had never let her go.
She drew a breath, her chest expanding and then contracting as she exhaled. “I loved Brent. He’s my father. He’ll always be my father. And I would have done anything for him.”
“But not now?” I asked.
She paused and considered my words. This was a big question for her, considering the trouble she was in because of him. Slowly, deliberately, she shook her head. “Part of me will always love him as the man who took care of me after my mother died. The man who taught me how to survive. But he never came back for me. He only came back for what I could do for him.”
“So do you think he’s here, in Sugar Falls?”
She shifted uncomfortably. There was more. “I don’t know. If he is, why hasn’t he come?”
“What would he want?”
“What he always wants.” Her tone was deadpan, resigned. “Money. The biggest scores were always the two person jobs. I did a few for him, until my parents caught me and had to use their connections to get me out of it.” She didn’t elaborate, but I imagined if Curtis Morgan had to use connections, she’d probably gotten arrested.
; “What happened then?” I was well aware that I was asking a lot of questions, but somehow I’d gotten her to open up, so I was taking advantage.
“They told me that me doing these things with Brent… that I was more than that.” A small smile lifted her lips. “They told me Brent was going the wrong way down the up escalator. He kept taking the steps, but going the wrong direction. He would always remain in the same spot.” She let out a soft chuckle. “I don’t know why that always stuck with me. But that’s when I told Brent I didn’t want to be part of his jobs anymore. He wasn’t that happy, but he respected it, and then he left town.” She sighed. “Or I thought he did. My—Brent—has a problem. He’s an addict, just not to things that come in a bottle. He likes to play the game.”
“So that’s why that guy was bothering you the other night?”
She tensed, but didn’t let go of my hand. “He seems to think that since Brent is missing, that I’m responsible for my father’s debts.”
“That’s not true,” I told her. “You’re not Brent.”
She didn’t say anything. In fact, she looked away, but didn’t let go of my hand. I squeezed hers. A small pressure from her returned it. We sat there in silence for several long minutes, each of us lost in our own troubled waters. But Jane still haunted me, wrapped her ghostly spirit around my heart and kept me from turning around on that escalator Charlie had mentioned. But Charlie… she was moving forward, getting on with her life.
“We all have scars, Jesse,” she said. I snapped my eyes to hers. She didn’t look judging. She didn’t look upset. It was a matter-of-fact statement.
“Do I?”
“We all do,” she said. “They’re part of what makes us who we are.”
“What if we don’t like the scars?” I asked.
