Gabriel: The Wild Ones (Jokers MC Book 2)

by Jessie Cooke

  “Yeah, she worked for an inn over in Camden, just doing housekeeping and sometimes working the desk. She loved it because they let her take the baby with her.” Again, his eyes clouded when he mentioned Patrice. At least the man had some kind of conscience.

  “She never filed taxes,” Blackheart said.

  “Yeah, well, sometimes in small towns things aren’t always above board,” he said, with a shrug. “She didn’t make much, but they were struggling at the time and what they wanted was someone they could pay in cash. My friend Grayson Little and his wife owned it at the time. Grayson is still there, but he and the wife split up quite a few years back. Anyway, Kasey was willing to agree to that. I got her the job right after the baby was born and at the time it was all she had to live on. Then when we got together, I insisted on moving her to a bigger apartment and paying the bills. She didn’t take that well, at first, but eventually we settled into a routine and she kept the cash they gave her because she was planning on going back to school someday. She really wanted to be a doctor.”

  “She couldn’t get some kind of grant or something for school?”

  “She had a scholarship, but she gave it up when she found out she was pregnant and let someone else take it. She wanted to wait until the baby was older because medical school would take her away a lot. She used to say she had a ‘ten-year plan,’ that by the time Patrice was ten, she’d have enough money to at least pay for her first year and Patrice would be old enough that leaving her so much wouldn’t be so hard. She was crazy about that kid...but she was smart, really smart, and it was hard for her to just stay at home and be a mom. When she wasn’t working at the Inn, or busy with the baby, she was always reading. She bought every second-hand medical journal she could find...she devoured them. Such a shame...Kasey’s death was a big loss to the world.”

  “And you never wondered what happened to her daughter?”

  “Of course I did. But the officer I talked to told me she’d been turned over to Kasey’s family, so I just hoped she was okay.”

  “Did Kasey ever mention being suicidal to you? I mean, when they said she killed herself, were you surprised?”

  He took another drink of water and said, “She was crazy about that kid, so yeah, I was surprised she’d leave her like that.” He hesitated and then he said, “But sometimes she was sad, about hiding her from her family...I tried to talk her into telling them many times but she told me I just didn’t understand how conservative they were, and she said she knew they’d never accept the child. Thinking about her family, or when she’d call them and lie about being in school, those were the times when she was really down. So...no, to answer the question, she never mentioned suicide. But she was more anxious than I’d ever seen her before about going home, so I guess I let myself believe that maybe the stress of all of that got to her.”

  Blackheart still wasn’t buying it. This was a woman who wrote in her diary about her life, religiously, loved her kid, and had a plan for the future. He still found it strange that her own family had just gone on without questioning any of it...and it pissed him off. He had his own guilt about Patrice, and forgetting Kasey...but he knew if he’d been in touch with her at the time he damned sure wouldn’t have just swallowed the suicide theory whole and left it at that. Despite what he’d said to Patrice so far, he admired her for wanting to find out the truth...especially because a lot of what she was going to find out might hurt more than not knowing at all.

  “That man in there lived with me and my mother. It should be me in there talking to him,” Patrice said, running her fork through her eggs, absently.

  Gabe wasn’t sure if it was going to piss her off more or not, but he was compelled to defend Blackheart, again. “I know he’s a little hard to take sometimes...but, I can promise you that everything he’s doing here is coming from his heart.”

  She rolled her eyes. “He’s so damned pushy, like a big Harley and ten thousand dollars’ worth of tattoos make him king of the fucking world.” Gabe nearly choked on his coffee, laughing. Patrice waited until he’d gotten control of himself and said, “I don’t know what’s funny about that, it’s true.”

  “Yeah, babe, it is,” he said, trying to bite the inside of his lip to keep from smiling.

  “But?”

  He put his fork down and cleared his throat. “Well, don’t shoot the messenger, okay?” She cocked an eyebrow and, less sure of the damage she’d do than the alligator he’d recently tangled with, he said, “You’re a lot like him.”

  She scoffed at that. “I’m like him? I’m pushy and I think the whole world revolves around me?”

  “I didn’t mean that. See, you look at Blackheart and see pushy, but I look at him and see a man who just has this amazing way of always getting things done. I mean, you and I both know he could have just walked away from all of this. He’s running two businesses, he’s a busy guy...” Another eyebrow went up and Gabe held up his palms. “I’m not saying this isn’t as important as all of that, I’m just saying that for him to put what he needs to do back home on hold to come out here and do this...for you, babe, I think that kind of goes far to proving he doesn’t believe the world revolves around him. Do you know that he gives out free food to the people back in the basin where he grew up, every week? He never goes to church anymore, as far as I know...but a few years ago there was a fire at our parish church, the one Miss Sally and a lot of the guys’ families goes to every Sunday. They lost everything, but within three months it was rebuilt, better than ever. I don’t have any proof, it’s just hearsay, but I believe Blackheart paid for all of that. People see this big, tatted-up, rough-looking guy on a Harley when they look at him, but I know for a fact that underneath all of that, he’s got a big heart. I’m a living, breathing example of someone who wouldn’t have made it this far without him...and so are my Paw Paw and Maw Maw. My paw paid the mortgage on the house they live in every month without fail. After he died, it was magically paid off. The bank wouldn’t tell my Paw Paw who paid it...but there was no one else, babe. It was him.”

  Patrice’s eyes had softened as he was talking. When he finished, she picked up her water and took a long drink, looked back over across the street and said, “Well, I guess unless you’re Satan, nobody’s all bad.” Gabe smiled at that and went back to eating his biscuits and gravy. Patrice finally took a bite of her eggs and although she kept her eyes out the window and on the business across the street, she at least looked more relaxed, like maybe she was at last willing to give Blackheart the benefit of the doubt.

  17

  Patrice stood up as soon as she saw Blackheart come out the door of the building across the street. Gabe thought she was going to race out the door herself, but something stopped her and she suddenly froze. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” she said, not taking her eyes off the men now crossing the street. “He’s bringing that guy with him...that asshole who didn’t even bother to show up when my mom died.”

  Gabe took a deep breath, left a fifty on the table and, as he struggled to his feet, held out his hand. Patrice took it and gave it a little squeeze. He liked that she was beginning to seem to draw strength from his presence. He already knew he was drawing strength from hers. By the time they got out front, Blackheart and the tall man were there, and the man’s green eyes were on Patrice. After a few seconds he smiled and said, “Wow...when you were little I used to think you looked a little like your mom...” He looked from her to Blackheart then and said, “But damn.”

  Patrice was frowning at him and with a smile playing at his lips Blackheart said, “Patrice, this is...” Before he finished she said:

  “I know who you are. What I want to know is why you deserted her? She died all alone and then you couldn’t even be bothered to take a six-hour flight out to be with her when they put her in the ground?”

  The green-eyed man didn’t look taken aback by her anger and Gabe wondered if Blackheart had warned him, or if he felt guilty enough already that he was expecting it. So
ftly he said, “I’m sorry, Patrice. I’m not going to stand here and make excuses. I’m just sorry. Blackheart told me you grew up not knowing much about her and that breaks my heart. You were her world. There was nothing in this life she adored more than you. She was a good woman, and an even better mother, and you deserved to know about her.” He reached into his pocket and came out with a key ring. Patrice watched, curiously as he took a small key off the ring and held it out in her direction.

  “What is that?”

  “It’s the key to a storage facility in Camden. I’ve given Blackheart the address. I’ve had it for over twenty-five years. It’s filled with your mother’s things...your things now, if you want them.”

  Patrice looked at the key for a long time and then finally, with a shaky hand, she reached out and took it. Gabe watched her clutch it hard in her hand, and he wondered...and hoped...that having some things that belonged to her mother would go far to fill the void she had since she’d found out about everything. There was a long, awkward silence before the man said, “She’d be proud of the way you’ve grown up. Blackheart tells me you’re a nurse now; she would have loved that.” He nodded then and when Patrice still didn’t respond, he held his hand out to Blackheart and Blackheart shook it. He turned to leave and that was when Patrice whispered, “Why? Please, just tell me why you didn’t care enough to go out there when she died...to find out what happened to me.”

  The man turned back to her and Gabe could see the tears swimming in his green eyes as he said, “Because I was young and stupid. I was juggling two lives and when Kasey died I lost one very important one, but if I had gone out there and admitted to that, I would have lost everything. I wish my explanation sounded less horrible and selfish, but that’s the truth, anyway. I’m sorry, Patrice.” He didn’t wait for her to respond to that, but judging by the look on her face, that was probably a good thing. He gave another nod to Blackheart and headed back to his office. Blackheart waited several seconds and then said:

  “It seems to me like he’s telling the truth when he told me he has no idea who, if anyone, would have wanted to hurt her. There’s an inn in the town where that storage is, and she worked there for a bit. Paul called the owners for me and they’re expecting us in about two hours.”

  Patrice looked up at him then. “Us?”

  Blackheart nodded. “Yeah, you and me.” Gabe felt her grip on his hand tighten and as Blackheart climbed on his bike alongside Lowlife and Le Pirate she whispered:

  “Thank you.” Blackheart nodded at her and said:

  “It’s only five miles up the road. Follow us, and we’ll stop at the storage facility first.” She nodded again and that time, almost imperceptibly, Gabe thought maybe she gave her father a smile too. It gave him hope to think that maybe the two most stubborn people in the world could forge some kind of treaty...maybe there was hope for world peace yet.

  On the short drive from Lincolnville to Camden, Maine they were treated to the sight of beautiful, green mountains lurking behind the entrance to a state park, and Gabe found himself missing his bike. This would be an amazing ride on his Harley, especially with Patrice hugged up behind him. The entrance to the little seaside village is marked by a sign that announces that it is known as the “Jewel of the Maine Coast” and as they drove further into it, it was instantly apparent that the sign wasn’t exaggerating. Gabe didn’t know much about architecture, but the buildings looked old and well kept. The little business district looked like a place that even he’d like to take a walk, buy an ice cream cone, and do some shopping, and he had never been much of a shopper. There were lots of restaurants too, advertising steak and seafood and homemade clam chowder. They passed a harbor with some of the nicest-looking boats Gabe had ever laid eyes on. He hadn’t told Patrice, but he had never been any further out of Louisiana than Mississippi, and looking out at a blue bay filled with yachts and sailboats was slightly surreal to him.

  “This place is incredible,” he told her as she made a right turn, still following Blackheart, Lowlife, and Le Pirate. She smiled and said:

  “It is. Since I found out about my mother I’ve hated that I didn’t get to meet her...but this place is making it worse. She was definitely full of life, and far from the stuffy conservatives the rest of her family was. I’ve read about this place. It’s where they filmed Peyton Place.” Gabe didn’t want her to think he was stupid, but he had no idea what that was. He was glad when she added, “It’s an old soap opera. They made it into a movie here, but originally in the fifties when the book came out, it was scandalous. All about things like unwed mothers and other kinds of what they thought was ‘illicit sex’ back in those days. I wonder if my mother picked it because of that?” Gabe didn’t say anything; he just smiled at her. He knew she was just speculating about her mom and he didn’t feel like anything he had to say would help. He wished he could do something for her, though, and he hoped like hell the things she was about to find at the storage facility would help her, and not just make her feel worse, about not knowing the woman who gave her life. They made another right turn and then a left before coming to a storage facility that was as picturesque as the village it sat on the edge of. Blackheart pulled over to the side of the road in front of the place and Patrice pulled up behind him. Gabe’s president got off his bike and walked over to the car. When Patrice rolled down the window, he handed her a card and said:

  “The codes you need are all on there. We’re going to give you some privacy. Meet us at Cottage Inn on 2nd Street at 2, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said, and as he was already walking away she whispered, “Thank you,” again.

  “Hey, you want me to go with the guys?” Gabe asked. “Or I’ll just wait in the car, whatever you’d rather.”

  Patrice looked at him and his heart fluttered as she said, “I want you with me, if that’s okay?”

  “Always,” he said. She leaned over and kissed him and then to him she whispered, “Thank you,” before putting the car back in drive and heading up toward the gates.

  The storage space was small, but it was packed from top to bottom with plastic storage containers. From the looks of it, Paul had taken great care to pack up all of Kasey’s things, even labeling the boxes with what they were. It didn’t look like he’d thrown anything out, and the look in Patrice’s blue eyes bordered on awe and overwhelmed, as if she didn’t know where to start. Gabe sat propped against the hood of the car and watched her pull the top off the first box. The label on the lid said, “Personal Things.” As she began to look through it, his mind went back to when his parents died. As a sixteen-year-old kid, you think you know your parents. But the day that Gabe went to the house with his Paw Paw and had to sort through his parents’ things, he began to realize he hadn’t really known them at all. He knew them as Maw and Paw. His maw worked hard around the house and in her garden every day. She made sure things were clean and in order. She made sure there was food on the table three times a day, and she made sure that Gabe didn’t do anything too stupid and kill himself before he made it to his teenage years. He knew she loved animals, and she liked to watch her soap opera at exactly 12 p.m. every day. He knew she volunteered at a women’s shelter and he knew she canned enough food for twelve families every summer, so that when winter came if any of their neighbors were in need, she could help out. He knew his paw worked from before sunup until after sundown most days. His big hands were calloused sometimes and other times they were so raw from the ropes attached to the cages he lowered and pulled up every day that they bled. His paw was funny too, always cracking jokes. He taught Gabe how to fish and hunt and throw a ball and work on an engine...all of the things a father should do. But as Gabe began sifting through their private “things” he discovered so much more.

  He found out that his mother had been a dancer before she married his dad. She was a ballerina, and from the programs and pictures he found, she’d been a good one too. He found a letter from a school in New York, dated about the time that she would hav
e been pregnant with him, accepting her for a semester of study. Obviously she hadn’t gone, and she’d never mentioned it, not to him anyway. His mother had been just like any other girl. She’d had dreams, big ones. She’d been talented, and she’d had a future far away from the swamps she’d grown up in...but she’d chosen him and his father over all of that and she’d never once acted like she was sorry.

  Gabe also found out his father had plans of his own. In his high school yearbook there was a photo of his dad in his baseball uniform with the words “Most Likely to Succeed” typed underneath them. Gabe grew up knowing his old man loved watching baseball on television, and when he had time to throw and hit a ball with Gabe, he was really good at it...but his dad never told him he was a star in high school. He was the captain of his team. He pitched four years straight, varsity all the way and his junior year the recruiters had come out from several different universities, and one major league organization, and talked to him about his future. Gabe knew all of that from newspaper clippings he found stuck inside of the yearbook, and things that his paw’s friends had written about “not forgetting the little people” when he went pro. But none of that had happened, and all Gabe had to do was simple math to figure out that once again, he was the reason why. It was that day that he realized his parents had been real people, and how much they’d given up for him. It was that day that he realized how lucky he’d been to have them for sixteen years, when some people—like Patrice, he reflected now—didn’t have theirs at all.

  He looked back over at her, sitting cross-legged on the cement floor of the storage shed, and flipping through something that looked like a high school yearbook. She had tears floating in her pretty eyes and his heart hurt for her. She wasn’t just discovering that her mother had been a real person that she’d taken for granted her entire life. She was seeing the woman who gave birth to her, who gave up medical school...and her own family...for her, almost for the very first time. A shudder ripped through him and he had to turn away again. He didn’t want her to see the tears in his own eyes, the ones that were there as a combination of empathy for her and a renewed understanding for the things that parents gave up for their kids, and the sometimes-thankless lives they lived in return.