Facing Home (The Clover Series Book 4)

by Danielle Stewart

  We laugh as Jordan puts the car in gear and heads back toward the hotel. I keep tracing the profile of her face out the corner of my eye, marveling how I ended up with someone as amazing as she is. And, more importantly, I wonder how I am going to keep her.

  “Do you want to take a detour?” I don’t normally enjoy being spontaneous but as cool as Jordan is being, I still know I did damage to our relationship yesterday at the hospital. I know she’s worried I might be teetering on the edge of reality and, at any minute, could reenlist. Both are terrifying scenarios to her.

  “Sure, I’m up for another adventure, especially if I get to slap someone again. That’s been my favorite part of the day so far.”

  I direct Jordan down the roads that lead to the one place I never thought I’d take anyone. But now, with her, maybe it’s just the one place I never wanted to take anyone but her.

  “Turn here.” I see the unease in her eyes as the road turns from two lanes to one, and then to barely passable dirt. We haven’t been by a house in nearly two miles. “Park in that clearing over there.”

  “Where are we, Click?” she asks as she puts the car in park and spins her head to try to get a better look around. “I’m not an outdoors kind of girl. You know that about me, right?”

  “I do. This is a place I used to come when I was a kid and I’ve never brought anyone else here. I’ve never told another soul about it. I want you to see it. You might be the first person to understand.” I’m nervous now that maybe she won’t see this place the way I do; she’ll think I’m crazy. “You should put on your sneakers.”

  “I didn’t bring them. I just have these flats,” Jordan says as she steps out of the car and looks down at her silver sparkling shoes. I pop the trunk and pull her sneakers out and hand them over with a smile.

  “I grabbed them just in case.”

  “Boy Scout,” she whispers. She laces up her sneakers and I throw my bag of supplies over my shoulder. I feel empty sometimes without the extra weight on me. There was a time, back in boot camp, when I thought I’d never survive lugging eighty pounds around. Now it’s such a part of me I feel off balance without it.

  Jordan loops her arm in mine as we start walking into the thick woods. I push the branches out of the way and hold them long enough for her to walk safely through. It’s nearly two miles of difficult terrain before I find the spot. It’s a small opening with a large stone in the middle.

  “What is that?” Jordan asks, tightening her grip on my arm, and it reminds me of the first time I saw this myself. I’d almost forgotten how haunting it was.

  “Have you ever heard of the Trail of Tears?” I ask as we step forward toward the rock, and I feel like I’m greeting an old friend. I crouch down and Jordan does the same, although she might be doing it just so we can stay close to each other.

  “I think I learned about it in school, but I don’t really remember much about it. Something with Native Americans, right?”

  “Yes, in the early eighteen hundreds the government wanted to relocate all the different tribes to Indian territories and reservations. There was a route that cut right through Tennessee.”

  “Why did people want them moved?”

  “I don’t know. The same reason any of that stuff happens I guess. Ignorance and fear.”

  “So what are you saying? Are we standing on the Trail of Tears or something?” Jordan asks, shooting to a standing position and looking down at her feet as though something might grab her.

  “Not exactly. The Trail of Tears was really just the name given to the movement itself. Not necessarily the actual path they took. Along the way, thousands of Native Americans died of exposure, disease, and starvation. They tried to call it a cultural transformation but really it was a cruel form of ethnic cleansing and segregation.”

  “And what does that have to do with where we are right now?” Jordan’s eyes are darting from left to right, the cawing of every bird and the wind through the trees startling her.

  “When I was eight years old I went camping with my friend Connor and his family. There was no way in hell my family would ever camp so I knew my only shot was if I went with my buddy. I didn’t know the first thing about the woods or camping but I lied and told them I did. Connor and I started messing around and playing hide-and-seek, and before I knew it I was lost. Like, really lost. I walked until I hit this clearing and found this rock.” I run my hands over the words carved into it that, at the time, meant nothing to me.

  “What did you do?”

  “I sat here a long time, until the sun started to go down and I got scared. It was cold, and I thought no one would ever find me. Then all of a sudden I just knew what to do. I stood up and started walking and pretty soon I was back at the camp. I don’t even remember how I got there exactly.”

  “That’s so freaky,” Jordan whispers as I watch a chill run through her body.

  “I know. I thought so too. The next fall we came camping again and this time I was determined to find this place and try to understand what had happened that night—how I had found my way back. After about an hour of walking, I found it again. This time I wrote the words on this rock down in a notebook. I stood up and found my way back to camp again. When I got home I went to the library and researched everything I could.

  “What does it say?” Jordan asks in a whisper as though she’s afraid to disturb anything or anyone who might be present here.

  “It’s Cherokee, a tribe that once lived here and was forced out. It says, To be free we walk and many die. The trail where we cried. When I learned what had happened, what our country did to a whole population of people, I couldn’t understand it. So I read. And I read and I read until every detail was seared into my mind. We camped here for three more summers and every time I came here I tried to understand. Then one day it hit me. The reason it was possible for the Native Americans to be driven out, killed, and forced to suffer is the same reason anything like that in history happened. No one was strong enough to stand up and stop it. We were camping when the towers fell. It was as if everything made sense to me then. I knew that day, the moment I was old enough I would enlist.”

  “That’s incredible.”

  “I’m not superstitious or anything, but somehow I found this place every single time I came out here without really knowing where I was going. And I always found my way back to camp. I feel like this place didn’t just show me where I needed to go, but it showed me who I could be. I’m good at being a Marine, Jordan. I’ve saved lives. I’ve helped people. I’ve stood up for those who can’t stand up for themselves, and as crazy as it sounds, I feel like part of that started here.”

  “I understand serving your country is an enormous part of who you are. I never want to stand in the way of that. I never will.” Her eyes are filled with apologies and that’s not at all what I was hoping.

  “I don’t want to reenlist, Jordan,” I admit flatly. “I don’t belong back there, even if my sense of duty tries to convince me otherwise. I’ve given that war as much of myself as I can without losing everything completely.”

  “But you said—”

  “I know. It’s a conflict I feel inside me all the time, but I know that, likely, I’ll never reenlist. It’s hard though; being right here, right now, it reminds me I still want to help and protect people. I’m not willing to give that part of my life up.”

  “I don’t think you should. Your willingness to protect everyone in Clover is the part of you I fell in love with first. It really is your calling, but maybe you have more options than you think.”

  “Over the years I’ve come out here hundreds of times to feel that connection to something and this place never disappoints. When I’m here I always get the feeling that my life has purpose and that I can make a difference. What surprised me the most about falling in love with you was you give me the exact same feeling. I never feel lost when I’m with you. This place finds a way to talk directly to my soul, and somehow so do you.”

  I switch f
rom my crouching position to one knee and take her hand in mine. “Jordan, I’m sorry I don’t have a ring for you, but I honestly didn’t know I was going to do this until we got out here. I know my flaws are great, and I don’t expect you to try to fix them for me, but I promise to work on them myself. I don’t ever want to lose you. Marry me, Jordan.”

  “I might slap you again,” Jordan says and the deadpan look on her face confuses the hell out of me. “I know we’re here at your weird creepy rock and this seems like the perfect moment for this, but I don’t think it is.”

  The breath is sucked from my lungs as her words sink in. I’d hoped for tears and tight hugs, a resounding yes.

  “We’re a mess, and I’m not just talking about my frizzy hair and your sweat stains from that two mile trek we took to get out here. I’m talking about us. Yesterday you were strangling a perfectly nice man because you didn’t know where you were for a minute. You were fighting with your family. You’re trying to solve your sister’s mysterious marriage problems. Does that really seem like the right time to propose?”

  “Yes.” I squeeze her hand tightly. “There is absolutely no wrong time to ask you to marry me because all those things you just mentioned, they get easier when we do them together. We are better together.” I pull her hand to my lips and kiss it, and as her face softens, I feel a spark of hope grow in my chest. “And don’t call the rock creepy, it can hear you.”

  “Stop it,” she begs as she slaps my shoulder and moves a few inches away from the rock. “You just caught me off guard here. I wasn’t expecting this.”

  “There might always be something in our lives that keeps the timing from being perfect. I’m not saying we have to run off and get married right away. All I’m asking is if you can imagine spending the rest of your life with me.”

  Jordan drops down to her knees and presses her forehead to mine, pulling back suddenly when she remembers the bandaged cut. “Ouch.” I kiss the area gently and let my lips linger there for a moment. “Click,” she whispers, “I’ve been imagining spending the rest of my life with you since we met. I’m just worried that maybe we have too much going on.”

  “I have a feeling you and I are always going to have something going on. Let’s not let it stop us.” I stand and pull her body to mine, brushing her hair back as I kiss her lips. Her hands come up around my neck but then slide down my chest and push me away.

  “We are not fooling around next to this rock,” she says as she looks down at the rock as though it’s alive. “I don’t want to get hexed.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Click

  I’m out of the hotel room before the sun comes up, even though I know that’s going to annoy Jordan when she wakes and finds I’m gone. It doesn’t make sense for her to come with me today. The only way I’ll be able to get close to Jonah without being seen will be if I’m alone. With my bag over my shoulder I jump into the cab and direct him back to the gas station I sent Jordan to yesterday. I’ll do better to walk the mile to the motel Jonah is in. It’ll give me a better chance of not being seen.

  There isn’t an ounce of tension in my body related to getting to Jonah. I’m not nervous about sneaking past a couple of guys doing surveillance. The only stress I’m feeling is knowing I’m going to be finding out what the hell is going on with my brother-in-law. Why would he up and leave my sister to come stay in a dive of a motel like this under an assumed name? Why would anyone be doing surveillance on him? Up to this point he’s been, well, boring. I don’t mean that in a bad way, it’s just he’s never been in any kind of trouble. He’s steady and reliable.

  Jonah is a kid who aged out of foster care and had to bust his butt to make a life for himself. He bounced around a lot but on his eighteenth birthday his real life began. It was years of working any job he could in order to get an apartment when he was old enough. He’s always done the right thing, the hard things, no matter what it took.

  I’ve cataloged everything I can think of on my jog over to the motel from the gas station. Unfortunately, I can’t come up with one single explanation that would end positively for Bianca and the girls. But I know Jonah and I believe in him.

  As I approach the motel I duck into the alley that exposes the windows in the back of the building. I gauge which room would be his based on the number of windows, and I start looking for a way to pull myself up. I don’t plan to climb in since the windows are barred, I just need to get Jonah’s attention and have him meet me somewhere, after I give him a plan to shake whoever is watching him. I pull an old recycling bin below his window and flip it over. It’ll barely hold my weight but I just need something to get me high enough to pull my body onto the small ledge. With some skill and a lot of effort, I get myself up there and peer in the window, looking for a sign of Jonah.

  I see through the bathroom into the rest of the motel room and there, sitting awkwardly in a chair, is Jonah. Raising my hand to tap on the glass, I stop abruptly as I hear a man’s gravelly, angry voice, “That’s not a good enough answer.” I see the strange man step toward Jonah and punch him in the face. The force of the blow should have knocked Jonah to the ground, but as the chair nearly tips backward, it becomes obvious he’s restrained in it somehow. I drop down from the ledge and hustle toward the front of the building. I don’t have a plan yet, which isn’t like me, but Jonah is the closest thing I’ve ever had to a big brother and I can’t stand by and let this happen to him.

  I climb quickly up the stairs and in a few adrenaline-fueled strides, I’m at his door. Rather than knock, I take a step back and kick the door in, knowing the element of surprise is my best bet. “Freeze,” I shout as I pull my weapon and aim it at the man closest to Jonah. A second man in the corner shoots to his feet and makes a move for a weapon of his own before hesitating.

  “You a cop?” he asks, looking from me to his partner and then back again.

  “No.” As the word passes my lips I use the butt of my gun to take down the first guy. When he hits his knees I put my boot on his chest and knock him hard against the wall.

  The other guy charges at me and I duck, sending him flying over my shoulder and into the dresser with a thud. It’s not enough to knock him out so I grab the side of his head and grip a fistful of his hair to slam him against the dresser again until his body goes limp. Pulling my knife from the holster on my ankle I cut the duct tape from Jonah’s wrists and yank him to his feet. “Can you walk?” I ask, fully prepared to toss him over my shoulder if he can’t. He nods his head and, with confusion in his widened eyes, follows me out the door.

  We run down the metal stairs, skipping two at a time. I pull him behind a row of houses and we start weaving our way out of the neighborhood and toward a patch of woods. “Come on.” I pull his arm as he starts to slow down. Those men aren’t dead; they’re only stunned. At some point they’ll come to and be pissed. And I really don’t want to have to kill anyone today. I’d prefer we get somewhere they won’t likely be able to catch up with us. “Through here.” We move into a clearing and then up a small cluster of rocks. “Can you climb that?” I ask, pointing to a moderately difficult next level of rocks above us.

  “I can if you can,” he huffs and nudges me aside to get a good footing position. I feel a small weight come off me. That is the exact answer Jonah would have given me had I asked the question before any of this had happened. It means somewhere, hopefully not buried too deep, is the guy I’ve always known and looked up to.

  I go to his left and start climbing, matching his pace. Realistically, I could climb faster, but this isn’t the two of us messing around trying to show each other up. We both need to get to the top of these rocks. That’s all that matters.

  When I pull myself over the last ledge I get to my feet and reach my hand down to Jonah who takes it. I lift him up and we’re both breathing heavily as we brush the dust off our clothes. “Your eye is cut,” I say, pointing to the spot where the man’s punch had landed.

  “Your nose looks broken,” he s
hoots back, half defensive and half joking.

  “It is, I got in a car accident a couple days ago. Hit a deer.”

  “Shit, was anyone else hurt?”

  “Shut up,” I snap at him. “Why the hell are we talking about my car accident? You need to tell me what the hell is going on. Why did you leave Bianca and the girls? Who were those men and what did they want from you?”

  “You shouldn’t have come, Click.” On the inside I smile a little. Jonah is one of the few people in my family who understands why calling me by that name means something to me. He’s never had a problem seeing me for who I am. “I can’t tell you what’s going on for the same reason I can’t be with my family right now. It’s dangerous. I think that scene back at the motel makes that abundantly clear.”

  “I don’t give a shit what it is or who you think you’re protecting. You need to tell me what’s going on.”

  “No, there is no fixing this. Let’s stay here until the coast is clear and then go our separate ways,” Jonah suggests and I watch him run his finger over the spot his wedding ring used to be.

  “What are you talking about? I’m here now. I’m going to help you.”

  “I’m not involving any of you. I know it’s hard for you to understand how I could walk away from my life and my family but I think you know me well enough to know I didn’t make that decision lightly. If there were any other way, I would do it.”

  “Boy, you and Bianca are perfect for each other,” I grumble as I continue to scan the tree line for any sign of the men.

  “What’s that’s supposed to mean?” Jonah asks, the sound of his wife’s name has him puffed up and looking ready for a fight. It’s apparent his love for her has not wavered, and that gives me some hope.

  “Your wife gave me a similar speech a couple days ago about not making her choices lightly and there being no other way. But she was talking about working at a strip club for a living right now.” I could clarify she’s only serving drinks there but I let Jonah stew in this news, hoping it will motivate him to talk to me.