4. Jack
4
JACK
The drive from the Helena airport feels surreal, as if I’m still in the sky. Seeing Ava again has got me all jittery, but my body is slow to bounce back from my accidental nap on the plane. I woke up scratching the armrests of the plane seat, my spine burning as if my skin had split. The elderly woman next to me gawked as if I had some sort of phobia or PTSD, perhaps noticing the USMC pin attached to my bag.
I’ve served in the military for more than a decade. The stigma of PTSD is often linked to our experiences, regardless of its accuracy. Even with all the research conducted, our understanding of it remains surprisingly lacking.
Nevertheless, my mid-air terror has nothing to do with PTSD, and I do not have a fear of flying. It’s a story about a place and a person, dark but vivid. If it holds any truth, those visions would be the fleeting moments I was face-to-face with my kidnapper. Nonetheless, I won’t have certainty until I find solid evidence.
As I approach my destination, thoughts of Ava fill my mind, drowning the haunting images and convincing my body that I’m back on solid ground .
The rest of the journey leads me through undulating hills. Morgan’s idea of seclusion takes me by surprise, but I guess she had to make sure her best friend was safe.
I arrive at the address Morgan texted me earlier, hoping to find her husband Tyler at the door. Despite knowing Morgan and Ava, I will feel much better if I don’t have to face the ladies alone—especially the latter.
Now that I’m at the doorstep, the prospect of seeing Ava again frightens me. What the hell am I going to say to her? What does she think of me? How will I feel? It was easier when she was only present in her sketch, while the real her was hundreds of miles away.
“Tyler!” I call. But there’s no response. The only sound I hear is barking, followed by noises from behind the door. Curious, I peek inside. The dog seems friendly, but then it disappears.
“Morgan?” I try calling again.
It occurs to me that the two might’ve orchestrated a prank, leaving me with no choice but to spend time alone with Ava. But somehow, it doesn’t seem likely.
Moments later, I hear more scratching, and the dog reappears outside, holding a toy in its mouth. It’s a long, yellow-and-white toy, which I recognize. I bought it from a specialty shop in Honolulu when Morgan told me about Ava giving birth. I can’t believe Ava had kept it. And judging by the marks along the giraffe’s neck, I’m sure it’s been well used.
“Where’re your parents?” I ask the dog as it sits at my feet, and it barks in response. For a few seconds, we appraise each other. The dog cocks his head, and his ears flap. He resembles a Labrador, but his legs are short and stubby.
I go around the back of the house, calling out for Tyler and Morgan once more. But there’s no sign of anyone .
Thinking the gang might be at Red Mark, I call Sam. “Hey, is Tyler there?”
“Why would he be?” my brother answers. “He’s on the way to his honeymoon with Morgan.”
Honeymoon? Why didn’t anyone mention a honeymoon?
“Where are you?” Sam asks.
“At the house.”
“Ava should be there. I mean, not Ty’s city house, but the one that Morgan rented for Ava. Have you got the address right?”
“Yeah. I’m here.”
“Ava should be home. Is her car there?”
“No,” I answer, then shift my attention to my welcoming party. “I’ve only got a dog here.”
“It must be Ava’s. Morgan and Ty’s dog is in Bozeman with Ty’s parents.” Then he pauses.
My former Navy SEAL brother rarely runs out of ideas regarding someone’s whereabouts. Something is amiss.
“Damn it! I’ll find her,” I resolve, returning to my car.
The dog refuses to let me go, wrapping his short front legs around my ankle and nipping at my sock. Unable to resist his adorable face, I pick him up and let him ride in the back.
The deserted streets around the neighborhood make me increasingly desperate. I keep my eyes peeled, checking out other properties and then hitting up the nearby town with all the stores. But there’s no sign of Ava. With a sigh, I head to the city to meet up with my brother.
As I approach the Red Mark office, I spot a figure stumbling toward the same building. Even from a distance, I recognize who it is. I accelerate, then stop at the curb next to her.
“Ava! Ava!”
I jump out of the car, my hands reaching out to catch her faltering body. The dog goes berserk, whining as if knowing his master is in trouble. As I hold Ava in my arms, the crimson hue stands out vividly against her ghostly skin. Her disheveled hair brushes against my fingertips as I wipe the blood off her forehead.
“Ava, talk to me.” I tap her cheek. “It’s me. Jack.”
“Jack…”
That soft voice.
The last time I heard it, she was saying goodbye. Now, she’s calling out to me because she needs me. It’s different but equally painful.
“Take a breath. Just breathe,” I try to calm her down as I scoop her up and rush into the Red Mark building. Once I’m in the lobby, I immediately call out for Sam.
Ava chokes as she sobs silently. As if trying to swallow a clog in her throat, she struggles out, “They took my baby.”
“Where did this happen?”
“I went to the hospital. Then they took him.” She gasps for air, her breathing labored.
Perhaps her struggle to get here has taken its toll, but her breathing becomes even more strained. And then she faints.
Sam finally arrives. “Jesus, Jack! What the hell?”
I lay Ava on the floor, ready to give her mouth-to-mouth to help her breathe, but my brother has a better idea. He returns with an oxygen tank. I know there’s a training facility here, and Red Mark personnel are often pushed to their limits, so it’s no surprise that the office is equipped with medical apparatus.
“Sweetheart…relax,” I reassure her, placing the mask over her nose and mouth. “Breathe slowly.”
“Call Dr. Tripp!” Sam instructs one of the staff.
“Your doctor?” I question.
“We have our own medical team now.”
The oxygen seems to provide some relief for Ava. Once her breathing stabilizes, Sam suggests, “Come with me. We have a bed upstairs. She’ll be more comfortable there.”
The dog follows us faithfully as we take an elevator up.
“Jack…” Ava murmurs as I cradle her in my arms.
“I’m here.”
She rests her head against my chest, her curls brushing my chin. Her body smells of baby powder, evoking an unexpected surge of emotion—something that has never entered my reality. It’s as if I’m enveloped in a realm of abstract tenderness, purity, and innocence.
Ava nuzzles into my shirt.
Disbelief washes over me, erasing my doubts about her presence in my life. Even though more than a year has passed, she’s still part of me, and her responses affirm our unbreakable connection. We are picking up where we left off in Bozeman despite the punishing circumstances.
I hold her tight, feeling the weight of her body against mine. As she hooks one arm over my neck, her need for closeness moves me deeply. How does one console a mother who has lost her baby? There’s no comparison, but the closest I can come is to imagine the pain of losing her now. With this empathy, I hope to offer her a sliver of comfort.
“Quinton,” she huffs. “He had a fever.”
“We’ll find him,” I assure her. “I promise, we will. For now, you must get better first.”
Sam whispers to me, “Her baby?”
“Someone took her son, Sam! He’s only seven months old!” My fury wells up at the thought. I’ve accepted that evil is part of life, but I wish it would stay the hell away from children and stop making mothers cry.
“No way, he’s far too young to be separated from his mother!” Sam’s voice remains low, but anger is written all over it.
I, too, am fighting the eruption of my rage. Quinton may not be my son, and I may not have met him or know who his father is, but he has become a part of me, just like his mother. Whoever is responsible, whatever the reason may be, if it affects Ava and her child, I’ll take it upon myself to fight the battle.
As I lay Ava on the bed, she whispers my name. Her lips gradually turn rosier, but her breathing becomes labored once again. Sam hands me the oxygen, and I quickly place the mask back on her face.
With a tired sigh, she closes her eyes. There is a blanket resting at the foot of the bed, and I spread it over her, covering her legs. I wish I had something softer to offer her, but she’s got to feel me. For now, my denim shirt will have to do, so I drape it over her chest, leaving me in just a T-shirt. She grips the crumpled shirt, bringing back memories of our time in Bozeman—me giving her my jacket, which she wrapped around herself.
Just then, the doctor arrives. Ava’s weak voice calls out for me, her hand searching for mine. I grasp her palm, assuring her, “It’s the doctor, sweetheart.”
Ava looks at the doctor and nods when she introduces herself as Celine. Ava looks to be at ease in her company.
“I’ll be right outside,” I whisper.
Sam and I step aside, allowing the doctor to examine Ava in private. I pace anxiously in the hallway, my mind racing with worry. “It’s her fucking fiancé,” I whisper to Sam. “I’m going to mush his ass, man!”
“I can’t agree more,” he concurs.
“She mentioned bringing Quinton to a hospital.”
The doctor exits the room and joins us in the hallway, reassuring us that Ava will be okay. “Firstly, she’s suffering mild concussion because of the blow to her forehead. With plenty of rest, she should recover in no time,” she explains. “ And her shortness of breath is caused by her previous battle with leukemia.”
I’m taken aback by this revelation. “I didn’t know she had leukemia,” I admit, feeling guilty for not being aware of her condition.
The doctor flashes a glance of surprise, perhaps assuming I would’ve known, being a man who keeps calling Ava ‘sweetheart.’
“You’re her family?” she asks.
Sighing, I shake my head.
She continues, “I’m sorry, Mr.—”
“Kelleher. I’m Sam’s brother,” I answer, and she tries to hide her surprise.
Sam and I don’t look alike. He takes after our father while I’m apparently a spitting image of my mother—if only I’d known her.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Kelleher.” Dr. Celine Tripp looks at Sam and me. “I shouldn’t be discussing this. It’s patient confidentiality. All I can say is that she’ll be okay. She mentioned leaving her medication at home. Perhaps you could fetch it for her and call her family?”
Sam instructs one of his men to retrieve Ava’s medication.
I tell the doctor, “With all due respect, she is my family. I need to know!” I change my statement about who I am to Ava. I might come across as pushy, but Ava’s health is my responsibility.
“Please, Doc,” Sam insists politely.
She hesitates but then reveals, “Ms. West has an underlying lung condition because of her previous battle with leukemia. She’s cancer-free now, but this is a lingering side effect of her chemotherapy. She had to go through the most aggressive treatment.”
“She will be okay, right?” I need to hear it again .
“Yes. Just keep her relaxed and comfortable.”
The doctor leaves us, and I check in on Ava. Her head is bandaged, and she looks so weak and fragile.
“Ava, which hospital did you take Quinton to?” I ask gently.
“St. Peter’s,” she replies in a whisper.
“Can Sam come in?”
She answers with a nod.
I tell my brother about the hospital, and he says, “I’ll get one of the guys to check the CCTV.”
“No, please,” Ava begs. “They said they’d hurt Quinton if I told anyone.”
Her panting returns.
“Ava, calm down,” I say, caressing her back.
“We’ll be careful, Ava,” Sam assures her. “We won’t let anything happen to Quinton.”
Ava looks at me, silently begging for action.
“They’re the best at what they do,” I emphasize. Although I feel an overwhelming urge to take matters into my own hands, I know my anger and personal biases may cloud my judgment. One careless move and everything could go horribly wrong. “You can count on them,” I say firmly, holding her hand.
She nods, exhausted, and soon falls asleep. While Sam and his men swing into action, I stay by her side. The dog stands guard, ever vigilant. I look at his name tag and give him a gentle pat. “Good dog, Elmo. Good dog,” I whisper, determined not to move from my spot. I will not leave Ava’s side until I uncover the truth about what’s going on.