Floating (22 page)

The story is about a lady who couldn’t have children.

She is rich in friends, in family, and in love. She has a husband that adores her He lavishes her with gifts and love. Sadly, the only thing the lady desires doesn’t come plated in gold, adorned with jewels, or bought with money. The lady wants a child.

Her husband stands by watching her become a shell of herself, until one day, a young woman, only eighteen, appears on the lady’s doorstep begging her to take her children. Two tiny baby girls, both identical in looks, are presented to the lady. At once she agrees, offering the young woman anything her heart desires for bestowing the gift of children on her. This gift reawakens her heart from the dead.

The young woman smiles at the lady telling her the only thing she wants is for her daughters to have the life they deserve. Not the one she can provide for them. The lady promises the young woman she will love the children as if they are her own. With that the young woman turns and leaves, never to be seen again.

Years passed, not once does the lady forget the young woman or the blessing she gave her. She often wondered where the young woman was. Whether she has made a good life for herself. If she found the same happiness the lady, her husband, and children have.

What the lady will never know was the young woman knew she was dying. She held on long enough to deliver her babies to safety, dying with the knowledge they would be happy. It was all she wanted for them. It was enough for her to die in peace.

My mom always told us, especially Veronica when she cried at the tragedy of the young woman’s death, the moral of the story is: The most precious gift is the gift of life.

That is what I gave my son. The gift of life. What he chooses to do with it. Where it leads him. Whatever his path, Kellen has a chance at life with a beautiful family; rich in all things that count. Me on the other hand…

Lucifer made me an offer. An offer filled with nothing but darkness. I suppose, it’s ironic in a way. I believed until now that I was the epitome of darkness; that I embodied it. I have even accepted it is who I am. It’s what makes me, me. Now… I know that’s untrue. True darkness lies in wait. It hides in the shadows. Real darkness is when you’ve lost all hope. When there is no escape to be had. No redemption to be found.

I understand that now, and I will forever be sorry I didn’t realise it earlier. Not sorry because I could have changed anything. We all know that’s probably not true. I would have been just as selfish and self-absorbed, if I had another chance. No. I’m sorry I didn’t realise I wasn’t dark earlier because maybe, possibly, I could have revelled in the grey while I had it. There were shades of colour in between the black and white. People aren’t all bad or all good. Sometimes they do horrible things, but that doesn’t make them bad people in general. There IS a grey area. I know that now.

See the beauty of Lucifer’s offer is that he still gave me a choice. Granted it’s a shitty choice, but still, it’s a choice.

Sometimes I wonder why I didn’t choose death when it was offered. Then I remember if I’m dead, I can’t listen to their conversations. I can’t hear if they plan to take Kellen, too. I can’t do everything in my power to make sure that NEVER happens. Let’s be honest for a minute. The truth is; death is like saying “Fuck You” to karma, and flipping it the bird. In my case, I deserve to be here. This is my penance. Death would be a cop out.

My name is Verity June Stevens. Actually, no, it’s not. Not anymore. My name is now… Savannah Givens, and I made a choice.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Veronica

              It’s time to go back. Funny isn’t it? Most therapists will tell you to keep moving forward. The past can’t be changed, so leave it where it belongs. Behind you. For me though, I need to go back. Back to Blackwater. To my friends. To check on my nephew. I need to go home to Nate.

It took me six months to ultimately make the decision and follow through with it. Hey, don’t judge, I got here in the end. You’re probably wondering why I did it. Why I left?

Simple really. Tank told me a story. Yes, big gorgeous, muscle bound, silent Tank told me a story. As a matter of fact, it was a pretty shitty story. Not the kind of thing you tell your kids at bedtime; or your grandchildren when they come to visit you, at the ripe old age of ninety-two. No. Tank’s story was full of sadness and confusion. I don’t even think it had an end. Just a beginning and a middle. The end was surplus. It wasn’t necessary to get his point across, so he didn’t share it with me.

The night before the surgery that would give one of my healthy kidneys to Kellen, Tank stopped by my room asking if he could talk to me for a minute. Originally, I thought he was either delivering a message from one of the girls or from Nate. It shocked me when he said it was actually him who wanted to speak to me. I haven’t had many conversations with Tank, and the ones I did have were straight to the point no nonsense type conversations. For him to initiate what I thought in the beginning was a chat, was rare. I took it as the gift it was intended to be. That was, until it wasn’t a gift anymore. More like a warning disguised as advice

Sitting in the chair next to my bed where I was reclined, but still upright, Tank looked directly at me and began his story without exchanging any pleasantries.

“I have a friend in the SEALs, Hector. He’s a good man: strong, loyal, dependable. He married this girl he’d known for a few months while he was on shore leave. Stupid fuckin idea, he was young and scared shitless he wasn’t going to make it home after our next deployment. Anyway, nothing dramatic caused him to marry her. The chick wasn’t knocked up or anything. Fact was she never wanted to have kids, so that wasn’t an issue. She didn’t tell good old Hector that, though. She married his ass and told him afterwards. Poor bastard was crushed. It wasn’t like he wanted to have rugrats, right then, but sometime in the future would’ve been nice.” Tank takes a deep breath rolling his neck, and the joints release with pops and cracks. Ewww gross.

“See, Hector comes from a big fuckin family; five brothers, a mom, dad, and a grandpop that lives with them. His mom is one of seven, and his dad is one of nine, if you can believe it. Obviously, family’s important to him. His new wife knew that from the get go. She didn’t give a shit, she was tying Hector to her and in doing it, he’d lose part of his dream. So my buddy, Hector, finds out eventually. I think he’d been married a couple of years by then, that his wife doesn’t want kids. They end up in an epic fuckin argument. Neither of them are willing to back down, so they find the next best solution. They get separated, and go their own ways.”

I shift uncomfortably on the bed wondering where in the hell he’s going with this, and why it has anything to do with me. Sensing where my thoughts have gone Tank chuckles softly. “Hold on, I’m getting to the point, soon enough.” He flicks my nose lightly making me giggle, and goes on. “Thing is Hector gets discharged from the Navy and goes home to tell his wife he wants a divorce. They’d been separated for three and a half years. In the two they were still together, Hector told me they were only in the same place for about thirteen weeks all told. The wife says no to the divorce. No reason, just no. Hector thought, ‘what the fuck ever.’ Seeing as he doesn’t have to live with her or anything, he can just go on about his life and forget all about her. It’s not like he wants to get married again, anyway.”

I can’t help but snort. Such a MAN thing to say. It’s easier to ignore it than deal wi…… Oh. Shit! Tank sees the recognition in my eyes. He smirks, but doesn’t stop his story. Not yet. “Hector moved away. I mean the guy loves his crazy fuckin family, but they drive him up the motherfuckin wall ninety percent of the time. He moved somewhere quiet, got a good job, place to live, and everything’s going great until, BAM. He meets a woman.” A laugh bursts past my lips. I can’t help it. The way he says, “BAM,” using his hands to gesture like an explosion has taken place is too fucking funny.

Flicking my nose again, he tells me to ‘shut up’ before going on, but he does it with a smile on his face. “Hector told me this woman is the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen: sexy as hell, confident. She won’t put up with his shit, either. She’s got baggage, but who doesn’t. The woman is fuckin perfect in his eyes. He wouldn’t change a thing about her. He spends time with her, lots of it, ends up knowing pretty much everything there is to know about her. Stuff he didn’t even bother to find out about his wife. She thinks she knows him, too. They’re just friends at this point, nothing more. My buddy, Hector, doesn’t just keep the secret that he’s married, though. The stupid bastard has a fuck ton of shit buried in his closet. Shit that if she knew about, it’d make her run a mile. He fell in love with her. Fuckin deeply in love. It gets to the point where he’d do anything to go from friends to something more. He knows can’t, though. Too many skeletons, yeah?”

Sniffling back tears that are clogging my throat and stinging my eyes, I nod. I understand everything he’s telling me without him needing to specifically say the words. He doesn’t have to; I get it. Hector is me. “Not trying to make you cry. I don’t want to hurt you, darlin. You’ve just got the same problem as Hector, V. You haven’t got the same physical baggage. You’re not married or anything. At least, I fuckin hope not.” I shake my head in confirmation. “Good. You do have the emotional baggage though, darlin. You need to sort that shit before you can move forward. You’ve got time though, babe. Arrow isn’t going anywhere. Neither is that boy of his. They’ll be here when you get done, yeah?” Another small nod and Tank grabs my hand in his, giving it a light squeeze. “You need me for anything while you’re gone, you call me. It doesn’t matter what time day or night. If it’s in a day, or months from now, you call, and I’ll answer, darlin.”

Just as he is about to walk out the door, I call after him, “Tank?”

He looks over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“What happened to Hector? Did he figure it all out?”

Tank gives me an odd look. One I can’t decipher. “Last I heard, he’s still working on it, darlin.”

Smiling back I add, “When you talk to him next, tell him I’m pulling for him.” Tank flicks his fingers out in a wave, and gives me that alpha male head tilt before closing the door quietly behind him.

I spend the next hours before dawn curled into a tight ball, in my ugly green hospital gown, crying into the scratchy pillowcase. Tank’s right. I have to sort my shit out before I can even consider a life in Blackwater with Nate and Kellen. I know what I have to do. It doesn’t make doing it any easier, but it’s necessary, nonetheless.

Most people would at least urge me to talk to Nate before I left. I can see where they’re coming from. I really can. It’s not going to happen, though. I’m not strong enough for that. Nate will break down my resolve, convincing me to stay. It wouldn’t take much more than a hug and a few kind words to do it, either. So, I don’t give him the chance.

Organising with my parents to sign for my release ASAP post-surgery, Tank and Priss to guard my door to ensure Nate can’t get in, and finding a specialist close to where I’ll be staying for my aftercare is relatively easy. My mom and dad look a little disappointed that I won’t be staying with Nate. They’ve always harboured the belief we would end up together. This is a step in the wrong direction in their eyes, a step backwards.

Tank and Priss both agree to do what they can to deter Nate from getting into my room. I know it’s especially hard for Tank. Above all, Nate is his brother; maybe not in blood, but definitely in spirit and road. In my mind, Tank is part of the reason I’m leaving. Albeit in a positive way, but he can damn well do me a solid and keep Nate off my back, at least as a way of payback for listening to him.

I write a letter each for Lou, Priss, Tilly, Kendall, and Adelyn. I also add a short note for Reaper, apologising for leaving him in the lurch. The last letter I sat down and wrote was only half an hour before they came to prep me for surgery. I want to take my time with this one. It will probably be the most important one I ever write.

Everything went well with the transplant. As soon as I get my confirmation from Doctor Bellingfield that Kellen is okay, I gather my belongings and check out. Signing my discharge papers is hard. It signifies that I’m really doing this. I’m really leaving. I shed more than a handful of tears on my way out the door. I know that’s not going to be the last of them.

When I set this plan in motion, I originally intended to go home with my parents for a month, and then on to Dallas to stay with Clinton and Stephan for a month or two. It has been ages since I last talked to either of them, let alone saw them in person. As is the way of the world, plans change. Before I knew it almost six months have passed in the blink of an eye. I’ve nearly finished everything I set out to accomplish before heading back to Blackwater to face the music. I have one last thing to do, though.

You know the saying, “Leave the best for last”? Yeah, well that doesn’t apply in this case. This last thing will be undoubtedly the hardest and probably the worst. It will also be the most rewarding. I just hope I haven’t made a mistake in doing it.