Even as he told me the story that contradicted everything I’d ever known, I could hear the honesty in his words. I didn’t want to, but at last I’d heard the truth.
I felt sick to my stomach, sick at heart, sick and tired; so very, very tired. All these years and I’d believed that my father had been murdered. Instead, the killer had been just a young guy who’d believed that SEALs were invincible and he made a mistake—my father paying the ultimate price. All these years and I’d believed my mom had been in love, when all it had been was a one-time fuck, a party-girl who’d gotten knocked up by her one-night stand.
I pulled free from his arms and vomited up my pathetic life again, wiping my mouth with my arm once my stomach had finished emptying itself.
“I’m so sorry, Blue,” he said brokenly. “I’ve wished so many times that it was me who died, not Luke.”
I stared up at him, my eyes drenched with tears.
“So have I. And I’ll never forgive you for stealing my life.” My voice shook with fury, bitterness and regret. “Do you really think God loves you, Gabriel? Because he doesn’t. He hates you. He hates you and everything you’ve ever done. He hates you for letting my dad die and he hates you for stealing the life I should have had. He’s sent me to punish you, Gabriel, to make you suffer like I’ve suffered. Maybe I’m going to hell for this, but you first.”
He stood slowly, his magnificent body painted with shadows, and he dressed wearily as if every limb weighed a hundred pounds.
I walked to the door, then turned to look at him. His lips were moving but no sound came out. Then his head dropped and his shoulders slumped. Quietly, I opened the door and left.
I heard his soft murmured prayers as I walked away for good.
There was no joy in winning, no pleasure in breaking Gabriel, because I’d lost, too. Maybe more than I’d ever know. Instead of triumph, I felt only a painful ache where my heart should have been, an emptiness in my soul, and my conscience blacker than an endless night.
Anger burned inside me, but not so much at him—that anger had burned to embers with his confession and his story. Instead, I turned that hatred toward my lying, druggie mom. I’d believed that I was a love-child, the product of a young love that had destroyed her life. But the truth was, I was nothing but the unwanted result of a one-night stand. And Gabriel had stolen my last shred of dignity: by destroying the myth of my birth, he had destroyed me as utterly as I’d destroyed him.
And because of my lying, whore of a mother, I’d lost the only man who could ever understand me, the only man who’d ever cared about me.
Only one thing was certain: God had a sick sense of humor.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Gabriel
The world spun as fast as it had on that fateful night twenty years ago. My head was still aching when I returned to the rectory after a long night of walking the streets to sober up, although my body was strangely satisfied. I kept asking myself over and over again—what had just happened? What had I done? Why had it been Luke in the crosshairs of my rifle? Why was it my best friend’s blood soaking my tunic? Why him and not me? Why?
Just like I had asked myself all those years ago across the echoing decades.
And yet, the taste of Blue remained on my lips, the sins seared on my soul. Why, God, Why? Why did you bring this girl to me to find me? Before I’d met Blue, my world had been simple, and I liked it that way. I’d learned a way to live with the never-ending guilt of what I’d done, who I’d been, and I’d taken comfort in knowing that not only was I truly repenting for my sins, but I was also devoting the rest of my life to helping other people. Saving lives for the ones I’d taken. And I’d believed, truly believed deep within my core that I was on the right path. That God had forgiven me.
But God makes no mistakes.
Blue was more than just a test. More than the daughter of the best friend I’d killed, more than the first woman to seduce me out of celibacy.
Blue was broken. She’d been abandoned by her mother who was supposed to love and protect her. A mother who had forced Blue down her current life path. And she had a father who’d never met her. Had never known she existed.
What would Luke have done if he’d found out about Blue? I didn’t want to shatter Blue’s fantasy about her dead father. But I had my doubts. No one, and I mean no one knew Luke as well as I had. And I would never speak ill about the dead, and definitely not about my best friend, but the cold, hard truth hit me in my heart.
Luke would not have returned and married Blue’s mom. Hell, I doubted that he would’ve even acknowledged Blue. Sure, he would’ve paid child support, the Navy would’ve made damn sure about that. But Luke had already made big plans—he and I had applied to SEAL Team Six. We had planned to leave the Hollywood SEALs behind and go out East. My swim buddy and I wanted to be the best of the best. Our dreams died the night Luke had, but even if he had lived, I doubted that he would’ve changed his life for the little girl with his eyes.
Of course, I could be wrong; Luke was the most loyal person I knew.
Only God knew that answer. Maybe Luke would have taken one look at his daughter and drastically changed his life.
Or if I wanted to be any more twisted than I already was, I’d could have been like an uncle to her. Dear God.
My gut told me that Luke would have run.
None of that mattered now, and I would never tell Blue my thoughts—I’d already wrecked her lifelong dreams of a happy family life. I’d ruined her childhood. I couldn’t take away her dreams, too. What mattered now was Blue’s future. And us.
Us? For the longest time, us meant me and the Lord. No one came in between my relationship with God. But now, I’d broken my vows to God. And now, I had to own up to what I did. What kind of hurt I’d caused Blue.
I had to figure out where we went from here. And I would not turn my back on her.
I splashed some water over my face and shaved quickly, so distracted that I was grateful not to cut myself. In my mind’s eye, I could see Blue’s look of hatred as she held the knife to my throat: old, bitter hatred. Even hours later, it still took my breath away.
How could I make amends for that?
I looked around my room. I had nothing of value, but I wanted to give Blue something to show her what she meant to me. Finally, I settled on my antique rosary. It still meant something to me—and it was all I had to give her.
I held the precious pearl and wood rosary in my hand, reaching for the calm in the eye of the storm that would allow me to go to her room, to beg for forgiveness, and to truly listen to her and answer any questions she had about Luke. She’d spent a lifetime wondering about her dad, believing the lies and fantasies her mom had told her. Her mom only knew Luke for one night. I could tell her everything she ever wanted to know about him.
I knocked on the door, but she didn’t answer. Not that I expected her to. I pushed open the door, but the room was empty.
Where had she gone?
As if God was watching, the sounds of tires screeching vibrated through the window.
I knew the sound of those tires, they were mine.
Blue had stolen my car.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Mariana
It took me less than five minutes to pack the contents of my room into one trash bag, and three of those minutes were spent crying useless tears. I wasn’t even sure who I was crying for: for me, for Gabriel, for the lies my mom had told me. Or maybe it was because my mission was over: I’d succeeded and I’d failed, and in any case, I’d never known the real objective.
Cuddling Lolita to me, I kissed her soft fur and tucked her inside the cardboard box-cum-playpen, then I crept down the stairs and headed for Gabriel’s car. It took me 26 seconds to hotwire it—my times were improving.
I didn’t really know where I was going, but I drove to the place I’d lived with Juanita, but when I got there, Cornelius’s pimp-mobile was parked outside, and music boomed from the doors and windows. It s
ounded like party central had puked up on the shitty little house.
I turned the car around and headed for the only other place that would take me in, and even that was a long shot. I hadn’t seen my mom in a couple of months so she could have moved on by now anyway. I prayed that she wasn’t still with Cornelius’s lieutenant.
I pounded on her door for so long that I was sure the neighbors would end up calling the cops, but in the end, the zombie-creature that was my mom opened the door.
“What the fuck do you want?” was her welcome. “You got any money? Got any blow?”
I pushed past her, my nose wrinkling at the stench in the place.
“Jesus, don’t you ever clean up?”
“Are the cops after you?”
“No, Mom, the cops aren’t after me. Are they after you?” She didn’t answer. “I just need a place to sleep for a couple of nights then I’ll be out of your hair.”
Her hair, my hair, hung lank and greasy, knotted in places, and a long time unwashed. From that single strip of photos, I knew that we could have passed for sisters at the same age. Not now. She looked old enough to be my grandmother.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Two nights, no longer.” Then she grinned at me toothlessly. “Hey, does Cornelius know you’re here, ‘cause he’s always had a boner for you. If you’re smart, you could make it worth your while. Do me a favor while you’re doing him a favor, if you know what I mean.”
“Seriously? You’d sell me to Cornelius just so you could party some more?”
“Be smart!” she said, viciously poking me in the arm with her dirty, broken nails. “You’ll only look good for a couple of years—gotta make it last, make it worthwhile.”
“You’re disgusting,” I sneered.
“You’re the one wanting the favor, kiddo,” she laughed. “Hey, what’s in the box?”
Lolita mewed at her and my mom’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“It’s a kitten!”
“Good observation skills, Mom.”
“What the fuck you doin’ with a damn kitten?”
I shrugged. “She turned up on my doorstep needing a home.”
Mom raised her lip in a sneer. “Pretty much like you, huh?”
I ignored her sarcasm; I had more important things on my mind.
“By the way, I know about Dad, the truth I mean. I’m surprised you even knew his name. After all, I was just a one-night stand, right? Not the big love affair you told me about. He wasn’t going to come back and marry you, was he?”
I wanted her to argue with me, to tell me that they’d been in love, but she just shrugged.
“Fairytales are for kids.”
“Yeah? Anything else you lied about?” She didn’t answer, having already lost interest in the conversation. “I thought you’d like to know … I found Gabriel Thorne.”
“Who?”
I lifted an eyebrow. “You know, the man you said murdered Dad.”
“Oh yeah, him. So what?”
I tried to appear as disinterested as she was and stop my hands from shaking.
“Well, funny thing. Dad wasn’t murdered. He was killed during an op—it was an accident on deployment. Gabriel Thorne did kill him, but he didn’t murder him. You blamed an innocent man, and I’ve hated him my whole life.”
She turned her eyes to me. “Hate is the only thing that’s real. The sooner you learn that the better.”
It was confirmation that everything that had ever come out of her mouth had been diseased.
“That’s it? No interest?”
“Jeez, what do you want from me?”
“If none of it mattered—who my dad was, how he was killed, Gabriel Thorne—why bother with the story? Why even keep me?”
She glanced over her shoulder, amused.
“I kept you because I couldn’t afford an abortion, and the welfare checks came in handy.”
She wanted to hurt me, but I’d already done more damage to myself this evening than she ever could. Had she ever cared? Before drugs and drink stole her soul? I’d probably never know. All I knew were years of neglect.
She turned away from me and staggered to the kitchen. I was revolted to see that she’d pissed herself and hadn’t even noticed. Shit, one night here was enough. My mother didn’t deserve the name. I decided the next time I saw her would probably be when I got a call to identify her body someday. And thinking that, it barely stung at all.
Besides, if she was crazy enough to sell me to Cornelius, it wasn’t safe for me to stay.
And then I had an epiphany: Gabriel. Even if he wasn’t a murderer, he’d killed my father so he still owed me, he’d said it himself. Fine, I hadn’t taken his life, but I’d take anything else he had to give … starting with money so I could find a place to stay. And if I was honest with myself, I wanted to see him again. It wasn’t the sex, although that had been pretty awesome … I’d felt a connection with him, something about him, his raw honesty that seduced me, something about his need for me that called to me.
I’m not finished with you, Gabriel Thorne.
With something like a plan in my head, I slept restlessly for an hour, curled up on a mattress with Lolly while Mom snored on the couch beside me. When I was certain she was asleep, I crept out of the revolting room and drove to St. Peter’s, then slept in the car until it was time for Morning Mass.
Gabriel would have one helluva shock when he saw me in his congregation this morning.
I was woken by the tolling of the church bell to call the faithful (and unfaithful) to Mass. Would Gabriel have the guts to give the Sacrament, or would the knowledge of his hypocrisy stop him? It was even money, either way.
I left Lolly sleeping on the passenger seat of the car, hoping that I was the only person dumb enough to steal such a clapped out piece of crap.
As I walked inside the church following the half-dozen worshippers, I saw Gabriel kneeling in front of the altar. He was there a lot longer than usual, and my heart squeezed painfully, knowing that I’d contributed to this. No, more than contributed, I’d crushed an innocent man—innocent at least of the murder of my father; not innocent of his death, which was confusing and hard to think about. But I’d broken him, willingly taken the life he’d made for himself, stolen his vocation. For the first time, the heavy weight of guilt settled on my shoulders, and when I took my place on a seat at the back, every step felt like I was carrying a hundred pounds.
Was this how Gabriel had felt all these years?
When he turned to face his meager congregation, I sank lower in my seat, hoping the shadows would hide me, but his eyes darted to mine and I swear I saw the deadness in his gaze, like a man who had abandoned all hope.
He went through the service mechanically, offering the Eucharist.
And I waited. For what, I wasn’t sure. I just needed … something, a sign.
“And I’ll be offering the Sacrament of Penance at the conclusion of this service,” said Gabriel, his voice ringing out through the near-empty church. “During the Sacrament of Penance, a person confesses their sins to God through their priest. My job is to forgive your sins by God’s mercy, and by giving you absolution, require you to live a more faithful life.” His voice became strained. “None of us are perfect even when we try to be. But by confessing your sins and receiving God’s forgiveness, you will have a stronger relationship with our Holy Father.”
Was this a message for me? Did Gabriel expect me to confess my sins? Because, ya know, I’d pretty much done that in his bed a few hours back. Confusion warred with anger: at him, at my mom, and at myself. I decided to take him up on his offer.
And as he turned his broad back on the tiny congregation, his robes flowing around him like ripples on a still sea, I felt a jolt of desire, of need. I’d always been scared that I was like my mother, with all her weaknesses and addictions, but for the first time, I understood her—I was addicted to Gabriel. I had an overwhelming need to see him, touch him, taste him again. One hit wasn’t
enough. I was afraid it never would be.
I waited until everyone had left, making sure the church was empty, and then, for the second time ever, I entered the confessional.
The light was muted in here, sounds softened, and through the wooden grille, I could see his strong profile.
“Hello, Gabriel,” I said in a low voice. “That sounded like an invitation to me. Well, here I am, on my knees, again.”
“Blue,” he said, his voice aching. “Why are you here? You’ve gotten what you wanted: I’ve broken every vow, every promise to God. I fucked my dead best friend’s daughter, I broke my ten-year vow of chastity—everything I’ve fought for is gone in an instant of lust. What do you want now?”
“An instant of lust?” I scoffed. “Is that how you’ll justify it to yourself? You wanted me from the moment you saw me. It’s been more than one moment of lust, hasn’t it, Gabriel? Maybe I should hear your confession.”
I hadn’t expected him to answer, but he did.
“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. My last confession was six hours ago. I’ve fallen in love for the first time in my life. She’s not like any woman I’ve ever met—she’s full of fire, full of spirit, she’s a fighter. She’s kind and beautiful and doesn’t know how amazing she is and how much more amazing she could be. She has taught me and humbled me, and I had no right to touch her, taste her, love her. But I can’t regret it. I feel truly alive for the first time in twenty years, and it’s tearing me in half. I don’t know who I am anymore, I don’t know what to do. I do know I’ll never forget her. And I know that I forgive her. I forgive you, Blue, for everything. But I can’t forgive myself. I don’t deserve forgiveness.”
He fell silent, but he’d stolen all my words, too.
I laid my hand on the wooden grille separating us and slowly, Gabriel raised his own much larger hand, until our fingertips were touching, divided by his faith and my lack of belief.
Father Figure Page 17
