by Odette Stone
“I didn’t mean to.”
“Intentions mean shit, Em. Actions tell me everything about you.”
He was so pissed, it scared me. Not that he would hurt me, but that he would leave me.
“I wanted to understand you better,” I blubbered. “You were so closed off and I didn’t understand you. I thought if I knew where you came from, I could figure you out.”
I looked up at this beautiful man who in his way was so strong despite having been broken so badly when he was little. Physically and emotionally. Somehow he had managed to put himself back together to become one of the most amazing human beings I had ever met in my life.
His voice was emotionless, borderline cold. “I never wanted you to know where I came from.”
I put my face in my hands, openly weeping. “Why didn’t you want to share that with me?”
He looked incredulous. “Why didn’t I want to tell you about the worst years of my life?”
I took a deep breath. He was scaring me. He was so distant and his walls were so high right now. “Yeah.”
“You want to hear about how I was hated? How Irene told me every single day that I was bad, that I was garbage, that I wasn’t worthy? I hated it in that house. I hated every single fucking moment.”
I wept.
He wasn’t finished. “Or maybe you want to hear about Ted? About how he was the only one who remotely cared about me and I would have done anything for him. I took care of him as much as he took care of me. It didn’t matter how filthy that place was, how drunk he got, how fucked up he was, he was the only one who loved me.”
My hands were covering my mouth. I shook my head. Tears streaming down my face.
Jackson’s eyes were red. “Maybe you are interested in knowing that despite Ted’s love, when he got drunk, he wanted to cause pain. God. Nothing hurt more than that first hit. Most of the time, I never saw it coming. He was a 200 pound man and I was a 45 pound little kid and he was a vicious son of a bitch. But if you are so interested, you should know that when he sobered up, he used to hold me and cry like a baby. Begging me to forgive him. And I was so pathetic, that I craved those moments. I lived for those moments. Sometimes I think I even provoked him because I knew it would lead to that place where he cried and told me he loved me.”
“Jackson,” I was sobbing.
“You want to hear about how Ted walked me to school, sat with me when we watched cartoons, wanted to know about my day and then would wake me up in the middle of the night because he needed a punching bag? Or did you want to hear that I was so broken and fucked up as a kid that I preferred to live with Ted for the small scraps of love he could feed me over the hatred I received from Harry and Irene.”
I stood there shaking my head, crying.
He was breathing hard and one lone tear traced down his face. “They were worse than Ted. You want to know why? Because they enjoyed hurting me. They relished it. They wanted to cause me pain, and unlike Ted, they never said they were sorry.”
I was pretty sure my heart was breaking.
He swallowed. “That journal doesn’t cover half of what Irene did to me. How she locked me up in the closet for hours at a time. Or how every single time I walked by her, she either pinched or slapped me. But her words, they were the real mind fuck. Telling me what a piece of garbage I was. Telling me I was a bastard and unworthy. Telling me that no one would love me. That I didn’t deserve happiness. That I wasn’t a nice boy. That no matter what I did or who I became, no one would ever be able to love me. She was relentless and I believed every single fucking word she told me.”
“Jackson. No. That’s not the truth.”
“If it’s not the truth, than why do I still believe it?” he yelled. He turned away, his hands pushed in his hair.
I could not stop crying. “I love you.”
“Just stop. I do not want to hear it. Just stop.”
He looked back at me. His face so broken. “Anything else you want to know?”
Tears streaked down my face. “Why didn’t you tell Ted what Irene was doing to you?”
“Because Harry and Irene were his dream for me.”
“What?”
He gave a big, sad shrug. “Ted told me that Harry was my father when I was seven.”
“What?” Shock. “How?”
“Ted was friends with my mom. She had told him enough to put two and two together that when an older cop started paying a lot of attention to us he figured it out. I didn’t want to stay with Harry and Irene. I fought going there. But Ted had some fucked up dream for me, that if I just got in with some all American family, I would break out of the bonds of poverty and alcoholism. So he told me that Harry was my Dad when I was seven.”
“You knew? All that time?”
“Ted had a big plan devised. He told me that if I was really good, if I was the best kid possible, that if I impressed them, than Harry would have no choice but to acknowledge me as his and I could become part of a real family.”
I felt my heart crack. I brought my hand up to my mouth. “So you excelled at everything.”
“It didn’t do much good. Ted and I did everything we could think of. Best grades. Best at sports. Do all my chores. Never talk back. Never get in trouble. Be quiet. Don’t act out. Ted wanted me to be part of that family more than I did. I hated them. I hated going there but I did it for Ted.”
I couldn’t speak for a moment as I tried to fight my tears. “And Harry never admitted to you that he was your father.”
“That completely broke Ted’s heart.” He looked disgusted. “But after Harry murdered Ted, he acknowledged me as his son in his suicide note.” Jackson’s voice was matter-of-fact. Flat.
I wept. “You didn’t deserve that.”
He stood there breathing hard. “You know what I deserve? I deserved a wife that I could trust. I thought you were different. I thought I could trust you.”
“You can,” I cried.
He shook his head. “You’re just like everyone else.”
“No, Jackson.”
“You can’t tell me that knowing this about me doesn’t disgust you.”
“It makes me love you more.”
He stared at the wall for a long moment and then he spoke. Monotone. “I leave on a mission tomorrow. I will be gone two weeks. When I get back, I think you should be gone.”
“What?” I was so shocked, I couldn’t even breathe.
He pulled on a shirt, not giving me a second glance. “It’s over Emily. I thought you were different but you’re just like all the rest of them.”
“No,” I ran to him, dropping to my knees in front of him. “Please. Please don’t do this. Please. Give us another chance.”
His eyes were a tumultuous green. Pain and anger reflected back at me. “It’s over. Don’t be here when I get back.”
I sat on the floor crying, while he retrieved a bag of clothes and his work stuff. He looked over his shoulder at me one last time and then he walked out.
Chapter 46
I literally thought my heart would break into two. I sat up all night, waiting for him to come back, but he never returned. I texted him. Called him and tried to Skype him. He didn’t answer. The worst part about all of this was the only person I had to blame was myself.
I had broken his trust. I had deceived him. Lied to him and took something from him that I could never give back. The irony was now I understood him. All I had needed to do was be patient with him. Let him come to me. Show himself to me. But instead my own insecurities, my own need to be in control had ruined it all.
I didn’t know what to do. I knew that if I left, I would never have another chance with him. I decided, despite grave trepidation, that I would be here when he got home.
Jackson had been given no love in his life and now, in the course of two weeks, he had lost one of his best friends and now his wife and baby. I had absolutely not idea how he was coping, but I prayed that he was holding it together better than me. I spent all my time c
rying.
Twelve long days past. I was counting the hours until he came home. I practice my speeches. How I would beg him to give me another chance. I was a wreck.
***
It was early in the morning when the front doorbell rang. I swung open the door. There stood two men dressed in official uniforms. One man was older, one was younger. My knees almost buckled under me when I saw them. “No.”
The younger man stepped forward, and cleared his throat nervously. "I am Captain Brandon Murray from Company B, 4th Battalion, 21st Ordnance, from Fort Lee, Virginia.”
My hand covered my mouth. My heart was hammering in my chest so hard I could barely breathe.
“Are you Mrs. Jackson Hunt?”
I just stared at him.
He repeated himself. “Are you Mrs. Jackson Hunt?”
“Yes.” My voice sounded weird. Faint and crackly. My legs were trembling so hard.
"I have an important message to deliver from the Secretary of the Army.”
I nodded numbly.
"The Secretary of the Army has asked me to inform you that your husband has been reported missing in action in Afghanistan since yesterday. The Casualty Area Command has reported that his helicopter was shot down over a jungle. At this point they can not confirm if there are any survivors. The area in which the helicopter went down is considered enemy territory and is considered extremely dangerous. When we receive more information, you will be promptly notified. The Secretary extends his deepest sympathy to you and your family during this trying period."
He was speaking but his voice sounded so far away.
I wheezed. “What do you mean missing?”
“It means we have lost radio contact.”
“Maybe the radio is broken.”
The two men exchanged looks. “Before we lost contact, they indicated that they were in mayday, that they had taken on enemy fire and that their helicopter was going down. They managed to give us their position and then we lost contact.”
“How did this happen?”
“Your husband and another SEAL and two pilots were providing cover and they were on the last helicopter to leave. The coordinates that they gave over which they were flying indicate that they’re in extremely dangerous territory. There is no way to send in anyone to rescue them.”
I stared blankly at the two men. “So, what are you telling me?”
“If they survived the crash, they will have to find their own way out.”
Jackson had been in a helicopter crash. And now he was in some godforsaken part of the earth where he was being hunted by men who wanted him dead. I couldn’t even wrap my mind around this. “So, he might be alive?”
The men looked at each other. “We want you to prepare yourself for the worst outcome here.”
“When will you know?”
They both stood there silent.
“When will you be able to tell me what has happened to my husband?” Tears splashed down my cheeks and my voice was vibrating.
“We might not be able to confirm the outcome of this situation,” he cleared his throat and they exchanged looks.
“What does that mean?” I pressed.
He looked pained. “Sometimes if insurgents do capture missing service men, we get news about it online.”
I took a deep breath. Envisioning Jackson kneeling with his hands tied because his back with a hood over his head while someone with a sword stood over him. I shook my head. “No.”
Tears were pouring down my face.
“We’re very sorry. We have a media package here for you to review. Would you like us to go over it with you?”
“What?”
“For your husband’s safety, the longer his situation is kept out of the media, the greater the chance he has for survival. If the media does catch wind of this, it will get very complicated for you and could compromise your husband’s safety. We will, of course, provide some media support for you, but the rule of thumb is don’t talk about this on social media, don’t talk about this with strangers or the press.”
He held out a navy green coiled book for me. I stepped forward and took it from him.
“And when you do find out the outcome?” I asked.
His face was completely impassive. “We report all deaths in person within 12 hours of receiving news. If there are any further updates about this situation, you will either receive an email or a phone call.”
I stared at them for a long moment. This is what Jackson’s sacrifice had come to. Two strangers showed up at our house with a coiled notebook and promises to tell me in person if he had died. And if he hadn’t, I would get a phone call. I just wanted these men gone. These two strangers didn’t know Jackson. They didn’t know how beautiful his laughter was, or how warm his arms were when they held me. I wanted them out of my sight.
“Thank you, gentleman.” My tone stated I was done. This conversation was over. They shared another glance and then showed themselves out.
I didn’t cry. I was in too much pain to cry.
***
The next three days passed by in a haze. I don’t know how I would have survived without Lauren. She took Chloe for walks. She put food in front of me and insisted I ate. It felt like that ride at the fair that spins so fast and then the bottom drops out from your feet. That was me right now. My world, my entire life was spinning so hard I couldn’t breathe and now the floor just fell away. My life no longer had any meaning or purpose if Jackson was gone. I had absolutely no interest in being on this planet if he wasn’t here with me. With him gone, nothing mattered. Nothing at all. All I could imagine was Jackson, captured, being tortured, being beaten. Horrific images plagued me. Haunted me.
Beth flew in to stay with me and sat with me for hours every night. She didn’t speak, she just drank copious amounts of wine.
Lauren and Beth kept telling me I should go to bed, but I could not imagine sleeping in my marriage bed while my husband was out there, in some hell, either broken and bleeding and fighting for his life or unimaginable, dead. Why had I let things end so badly with us? I needed him to know that I loved him. I needed him to know that he was my entire world. I needed his forgiveness.
Tears would run down my face but I felt like I was made of stone. No expression graced my face. Chloe stayed curled up at my feet. I talked to no one. I just clutched my iPad. Someone would put a cup of tea or a piece of toast in front of me. I don’t remember drinking or eating anything, but I must have.
Beth would lead me to the shower and force me to bath. She put out clean clothes for me to get into. I slept, fitful awful short naps that I awoke from gasping and afraid.
I knew that I needed to get up, start dealing, start coping with this news, but honestly, I could do nothing but sit on the couch.
I looked up at Beth. “Do you think he’s dead?”
She touched my face. “Until they come to your door and tell you otherwise, just hang onto your hope.”
“What if they never recover him.” I couldn’t bring myself to say his body.
“They did not say he was presumed dead which means there might be a chance of survival.”
***
I woke up on day four to my phone ringing. I sat there frozen so Beth picked up the phone and answered.
“It’s for you,” she said, holding out the phone.
“Who is it?”
“Someone by the name of Forbes.”
I took the phone.
“Hello?”
“Emily,” his voice sounded serious.
I started to cry. “Tell me he’s okay.”
“We haven’t heard anything.”
I shook my head. “What can you tell me?”
“It was MacDog and Guinness on the last bird. We lost radio contact. We have tried to go back over to see anything but we’ve been met with heavy resistance.”
I sat there, the phone pressed to my ear while tears ran down my face. “How bad is this?”
“Darling, this is as bad as it gets.�
�
I shook my head. “It can’t end like this. We had such a huge fight. Things ended so badly. I tried to call him, so many times after that. I texted him. But he didn’t call back.”
“He showed up at my place the night before he left for this mission.”
I put my hand over my mouth. “Oh God. He was so upset. This is my fault. I distracted him. I upset him.”
“Darling, MacDog is a pro. He could turn his shit off like nobody’s business. Besides, he didn’t cause this crash, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“I can’t do this without him, Forbes,” I confessed, trying not to sob. “I have absolutely no idea how to live my life without him in it.”
“I’m going to tell you something so you listen carefully.”
“Okay,” tears clogged my throat.
“If there is one guy on our unit that can survive this, it will be him, okay? MacDog is one of the toughest, most ruthless and determined men I have ever met in my life. That guy has a will of steel. I’ve seen him do the most heroic and insane things in my life, stuff that blew my mind, so if anyone has a chance of surviving this, it’s your husband. Now you focus on that.”
I was openly sobbing. “Okay.”
“Are you eating?”
“Yes.”
“Sleeping?”
“Some.”
“I want you to go grab that cute dog of yours and go for a walk in the sunshine.”
He might as well have asked me to climb mount Everest without an oxygen tank. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can and you will. Because when Jackson is found, you need to be healthy and strong for him. He’s going to need you. So your job, the way you can help him the best, is to take implicit care of yourself right now.”
“Okay.”
“I’m going to be in touch in a few days and I’m going to be asking if you went for a walk and you better tell me that you went for a walk every single day.”
“Okay.”
We sat there on the phone. Finally, I spoke. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Darling, the minute you married one of ours, you became one of ours.”
