Chapter 39 #2
“I was mad, for a long a time. At the funeral I couldn’t look at either of you. Didn’t seem fair,” she said with a shrug, and Aberlour understood because he agreed—because he felt the same—because if he could, he’d take JD’s place in a heartbeat.
“I was mad, and then I was sad, and then I just—” she shrugged, and for a minute Aberlour saw the young girl in the bar again. Fun-loving, carefree, and looking for a good time. The same girl who enjoyed life so thoroughly that she’d fallen for JD, out of all of them.
“He loved you. Both of you. Darling and Dumber, right? That’s what they used to say. Mom and Pop. I can’t imagine—” she stopped. There was emotion in her voice now, raw and unrestrained, traveling through her like an old friend rather than an unwelcomed foe.
It was—beautiful.
She glanced at him for a moment, as if wondering whether she should continue. Whatever she read in his expression made her decide to let that go and change the subject.
“My children are like a gift from him to me. One last gift. A daily reminder of him. She laughs just like JD. You know—when he’d cackled a little evilly. At the shittiest jokes, too.”
Aberlour nodded because he did remember.
JD had been the life of the party, the frat man, the bro dude, the dumbass who laughed loud enough for the neighbours to hear and he’d never apologized for it.
JD had been like—like sunlight, cotton candy, and guns all rolled into one, soaked in whiskey, and set ablaze.
“And Mike? That kid—well, you can see it for yourself, right? Like a carbon copy. The way he smiles—” Caroline shook his head and looked down. There was a tear then at the corner of her eye, but Aberlour couldn’t let himself acknowledge it.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and Aberlour didn’t know what to think. He stared at her like she’d lost her mind.
“For hating you, for being angry, for not reaching out,” she explained, then shrugged.
Aberlour shook his head.
“They should have come home—” Aberlour said, although he’d never said it out loud before. “I failed them. I don’t—You don’t—” he didn’t finish the thought. He didn’t have to since Caroline obviously understood.
The brunette turned to him, kindness shining in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I’m sorry for your loss, for your pain, and for all you’ve been through,” she repeated, clearly and carefully, to ensure that Aberlour understood exactly what she meant.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Aberlour said before he could lose his nerve.
She smiled a little wider, kissed his cheek, and she was gone.
Just like that.
It was easier to breathe after that. Just a little.
Aberlour got to his feet and returned to Oliver, who smiled warmly and introduced him to Marcus’ brother, Devin.
“How are you doing?” Aberlour asked with a polite nod.
Marcus’ brother smiled the same as his father—exactly like Marcus, but while it had hurt to look at him earlier, it now felt—familiar. The iron band around his chest loosened enough to let him breathe a bit better.
Sophie found him as he was getting a beer.
“I still have the bear,” she greeted him.
Ghost’s daughter was just as amazing as ever, Abe thought, as he took in her appearance. The last time he’d seen her had been at Marcus’ wedding, and while she’d matured since then, she was still the same bewitching girl. If barely still a girl.
“Bear?” he asked, taking a long pull from the cold long neck in his right hand. There was another one in his left for Oliver, but he’d get it when he got it. Even if it had gotten warm by then. He wouldn’t walk away from Sophie.
“That year you guys went to the carnival, and you won me that white bear,” Sophie said with a knowing smirk.
“Your dad won that bear,” Aberlour denied adamantly.
“Sure he did,” she said with a twinkle of mischief. “You don’t have to pretend, it was in the letter,” she said like Abe should have known what she was talking about.
“Letter?” Abe asked, giving her a blank look.
Suddenly, she frowned, as if concerned that she’d revealed something she shouldn’t have.
“He left us letters—” she stopped, then looked at her shoes, realizing she might have messed up. She looked much younger then, her expression stricken.
Aberlour suddenly remembered how she’d wailed at the funeral. The memory like a hot poker to the chest. She’d worn her hair in braids then, too. Though now her braids had purple streaks.
“You didn’t get a letter?” she asked quietly, looking up at him.
“Right—the letter,” Abe said, quickly backpedaling. He plastered on a big smile and stepped forward, knowing it would look more genuine if he did so.
Sophie smiled in relief, the tension in her shoulders disappearing.
“He told me about the bear. Said you’d won it for him,” she explained and Aberlour had to smile at the memory.
“It was a really weird day,” he said, with another long pull of his beer.
“Life’s full of those,” she said, sounding wise beyond her years.
He looked her up and down. Quickly calculating her age.
Ghost had only been 19 when his wife had gotten pregnant, so, by Abe’s count it made her no older than 15, though she seemed much closer to adulthood than kids at her age usually did.
“You being a good girl for your dad? Going to college and shit?” She smiled at his attempt to sound stern and nodded.
“Straight A’s, and that’s the plan,” she said with a nod. “I plan to pursue a Ph.D. in International Law, if all goes well.” She winked conspiratorially, as if she knew he was putting on an act just for her benefit.
“Good,” Aberlour said with a quick nod. “Real good.”
Sophie snorted and they stood in silence for a few minutes, watching as the celebration carried on around them.
“You can always—” he stopped, scratching the back of his head and taking a long sip.
She didn’t say anything, she simply looked up at him, one eyebrow raised.
“If you need—if you’re in trouble, you can always call,” he said, a little braver than before. “I know you don’t know me that well, but—” he stopped abruptly, noticing that her smile had grown into a mischievous grin, and he felt like he was late to catch onto the joke.
“He told me that in the letter as well,” she said hesitantly as if she wasn’t sure how he would take it.
“He did?” he asked, a little breathless with trying to hold back his emotions at the overwhelming feeling that washed over him, thinking about what high regard Ghost must have held for him.
“Wrote your phone number down. Said I should use it if I was ever in trouble and needed a way to get home without calling my mom,” she said, snickering as if the very idea was ludicrous.
Aberlour smirked and took another long pull from his beer.
“Can I have one?” Sophie asked him, pointing to the beer in his hand.
Aberlour snorted, uncapped the other beer in one quick move and handed it over to Sophie with a wink.
“Don’t get caught,” he called after her, as she sauntered off with it.
He grabbed another one for Oli, still shaking his head at the ridiculousness of their discussion.
“Did you—” Oli began, but Aberlour gestured for him to be quiet.
“Mind your own damned business,” he growled, jokingly.
Oliver huffed a laugh but took the offered beer.
It was all in pretense, since Oli could barely handle the first few sips before his stomach felt like retching it back up.
He liked holding it. It probably brought a sense of normalcy.
Whatever his reasons for asking for the beer, Aberlour didn’t question them.
“It wasn’t fair of me, you know.”
Sabine was the last to track him down. The last of the wives who was now prepared to empty her bag of regrets and anger.
Ghost’s wife had given him a quick hug and kissed his cheek while muttering that she loved and forgave him.
She’d let him go and walked away, Sophie trailing behind her like the perfect child she had always been.
Sabine wouldn’t make any of this easy.
Without a doubt, Aberlour had been confused for most of the day. Everyone told him something about his men that he hadn’t known before, but when Sabine started with an apology, he’d known exactly where she was headed with their little talk.
“At my wedding, I was out of line.”
Her apology was completely unnecessary, of course. Aberlour had known what she’d meant, but perhaps she hadn’t said this for his benefit at all, but rather for hers.
“When they knocked on my door, those two soldiers—I thought—” Her breath caught in her throat, causing her to choke for a minute, and Aberlour knew exactly how she felt.
“That’s the first thing I thought about,” she admitted. “I thought—fucking Aberlour failed us.”
Silence fell between them. The party continued, the children screamed, the peopled chatted, the grilled sizzled, but all Aberlour heard was total silence in that moment.
“It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair then, and it sure as hell ain’t now,” she admitted, like it weighed heavily on her.
“Major General Baron told me you saw it—” she stopped to take a breath.
“He told me you stayed to watch the broadcast.” Much easier words to say.
Ones not filled with meaning. Each one of the wives had eventually learned the truth about their husband’s demise—at Abe and Oli’s insistence.
“I did,” Aberlour admitted. “We both did.” He gestured towards Oliver, who was now tiring quickly, even as he continued to spin children around in his wheelchair.
“I can’t—” she broke off and then tried again. “You weren’t responsible for them, nor for any of what happened.” She paused to look out over the crowd. “Marcus would have hated that I kept you away from us for these past five years. He was always big on family.”
Aberlour had to smile at that because she was absolutely right. Marcus had been relentless in stressing the importance of family, regardless of the shape it took.
“You didn’t,” Aberlour insisted firmly, shaking his head.