Epilogue 2 #2
I wince. “I did what I thought was best for you. I had to find a way to parent, despite being on tours of duty.”
“You mean, you barely had time to be a parent because there was hardly a time when you weren’t deployed.”
I draw myself up to my full height. I know where this argument is going, but I have to try. “I was doing my duty as a Marine.”
“You shirked your duty as a father. If it hadn’t been for Aunt Margaret—" He looks away, and I follow his gaze to where my aunt is seated. Margaret never approved of my mother marrying Arthur. She broke off all relations, as a result. After I fell out with my father, knowing that’d likely be enough incentive for Margaret to come around, I approached her and asked if she’d be able to help me with Felix.
Luckily, she wanted a relationship with her grandnephew.
Her only condition was that she’d never have to see Arthur, which I readily agreed to.
I invited her to stay with us. Tasked her to be his primary caregiver. And to her credit, she stepped up. At an age when she could have been enjoying her retirement, she played the role of mother and father, and friend. It’s no wonder Felix looks to her as more of a parent than me.
He finishes, “—I wouldn’t have known what a normal home could be.”
“I know I made mistakes—"
He laughs. “Mistakes? You call leaving me for months on end while you went off on another assignment a mistake? Why don’t we call it what it is? You didn’t want me.”
My stomach churns. I know I wasn’t around much for my son, but I had no idea it resulted in him feeling this abandoned. “I did want you.”
“You had a funny way of showing it.” His features take on a pitiful look. “You were too busy fighting for the great unwashed—a nameless, faceless mass of people who had no idea what you were sacrificing for them.”
“You’re right. Most of what I did was undercover. The common populace will never have any idea what I’ve sacrificed so they can be safe.”
“You sacrificed me, Quentin.” He takes a step back. “You gave me up, and now, I’m giving you up.”
My own son calls me by my first name. He and I both know, he doesn’t owe me the respect of calling me Dad.
A ball of emotion chokes my throat. My heart threatens to rip through my ribcage. Every part of my body urges me to tell him how much I love him. How much I miss him. How much I regret not being there for him. I open my mouth, but all that comes out is, “Is that your final decision?”
He merely shakes his head, then pivots on his feet and walks away.
As I stare after him, my aunt walks over. “Couldn’t you stop yourself from getting into an argument with him on his wedding day?” She looks at me with reproach. I’m forty-nine years old, and my aunt can still level that look at me and make me squirm.
“I screwed up.” I loosen my tie.
“You need to put things right,” she says in a quiet voice.
I know, I do. I watch as Felix disappears through the door set to one side of the church, but when I take a step in the direction he’s gone in, she grips my arm. “Don’t. Give him some time.”
“He’s getting married, and I need to talk to him before it’s too late,” I point out.
“You’ve waited this long. Surely, you can hold off until after the ceremony.”
I hesitate, then nod.
Knox, my nephew, who’s nearer in age to me than to Felix, and who accompanied me to the wedding, takes in the scene and whistles, “You weren’t kidding when you said this wasn’t going to be a dull wedding.”
It’s the only reason he agreed to come with me. Not that I fault him. If it weren’t my son getting married, I wouldn’t be here. Not when I’ve had a beef with Knox for a long time.
I look around the space—the soaring columns, the stained glass over the altar, the statue of Christ looking down on the proceedings.
The scent of incense is heavy in the air.
The very air is still and weighs heavily on my shoulders.
I hate churches. I didn’t think Felix was religious, but then, I don’t know much about my son. And whose fault is that?
I follow Knox as he slides into a pew. My aunt walks over to one in the front, where she sits down next to a gaggle of women. All of them are wearing dresses and hats, as befits a wedding, I suppose.
I wouldn’t know. I’ve made it a point never to attend one.
It reminds me too much of my own, which thankfully, wasn’t in a church.
It was before a justice of peace, and then I was called up to serve.
The life of a Marine. I returned eight months later, in time for Felix’s birth.
His mother left me when he was a toddler
Which is when my aunt stepped in. Then, it seemed easier not to interfere in the rhythm they had.
She and my son formed a bond. The child would be well looked after.
I wouldn’t have to see the face of my son, who’d remind me of my non-starter of a marriage.
I didn’t have it in me to be his main caregiver.
I was barely keeping it together, myself.
I was in no state to take care of a child.
It seemed best to ensure the child had everything, in terms of material needs, and then, let my aunt take on the duties of primary caregiver.
So perhaps, I was lazy. I didn’t push myself. I took the easy way out. Or maybe, I was a coward, protecting myself. Either way, my decisions were wrong. I’m watching my son get married, and I don’t know who he is.
“You all right, mate?” Knox murmurs.
“Could do with a drink.” I roll my shoulders, trying to ease the ache, which seems to have taken up permanent residence there.
He pulls out a flask and hands it over.
I accept it without question; not going to turn my back on small favors. I tilt the flask to my mouth and chug down the alcohol. It leaves a trail of fire down my throat and sets off a bomb in my stomach. I cough, lower the flask, and wipe the back of my hand across my mouth.
“Easy, Tiger.” He takes the flask from me, swigs down a few mouthfuls, then caps it and pockets it.
The organist strikes up the chords for ‘Here Comes the Bride.” Could my boy get any more traditional than this?
I really don’t know him at all, do I? My eyes begin to water.
It’s from the alcohol, I swear. Around me, people rise to their feet.
Knox nudges me, and I push myself to stand.
My gaze is trained ahead to where the best man is standing—one of Felix’s friends who I don’t recognize.
Another thing I missed out on. I have no idea who my son hangs out with or who’s his best mate.
The man glances around, looking worried.
Huh, where’s Felix? Is he still outside?
“Maybe I should go get him?” I turn to leave, but Knox grabs my arm. “Stay put, ol’ man.”
“I think I should find my sh-sh-sh-son?” I’m slurring. Damn. I didn’t have that much to drink, did I?
“You’re not in any condition to go traipsing around by yourself,” Knox whispers.
“I’m fine—" I sway, grab hold of the pew in front of me.
“You’re not.”
I’m not. But I don’t care. I—
A shiver runs down my back. The hair on the nape of my neck stands to attention. I turn and see a vision in white gliding past. She’s wearing one of those slim-fitting, lace wedding dresses, which clings to her waist and outlines the shape of her hips, before flaring out into a train at her ankles.
The sleeves lovingly cover every part of her arm up to her neck, but her skin glistens through the gaps in the lace.
The collar is high, almost Victorian, which makes the contrast to the plunging V-neckline almost disgraceful.
Combined with the strategic panels, which cover her nipples, the rest of the embroidered bodice shows off the creamy skin off her breasts.
They thrust out proudly, leading the way for the rest of her hourglass-figured body to follow.
As she passes me by, a whiff of strawberries, underlaid with something musky, teases my nostrils.
I’m instantly hard. Her veil flows over her features, so all I catch is a curve of dark eyelashes over a cheekbone, and then she slides by.
Her train flows behind her, a ripple of water in the wake of a yacht with the most sensuous lines I’ve ever seen.
A siren, a temptress, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
“Your son’s marrying her?” Knox hisses. His voice is awed and drips with the half-arousal, half-disbelief I’m feeling. Anger squeezes my chest, and if you ask me why, I couldn’t articulate it.
“Keep your eyes off of her,” I growl.
Of course, he doesn’t listen. He continues to stare at her, until I bury an elbow in his side.
“Ouch, what the— What was that for?”
“Don’t look at her like that,” I snap. Something hot stabs into my chest. It’s like I took a bullet to it.
Scratch that, I’ve taken a bullet to the chest, and it has nothing on this sensation that spears my ribcage.
I’ve swallowed a rock, which weighs me down and threatens to overbalance me.
I loosen the buttons on my jacket, then run my fingers under my collar.
Everything within me insists I walk after her. Don’t let her leave. Don’t let her marry your son. This is all wrong. I push a leg out into the aisle, only Knox grabs my shoulder and applies enough pressure that I find my butt hitting the seat.
“What?” I blink.