Page 46 of Blue-Eyed Jacks
“Zoe,” I warned.We talked about him occasionally, but in the “yes, you have a father, and no, he’s not in the picture” sort of way.
“Is that why you’re so angry and worried about out-of-towners, because I was a summer fling?”
I swallowed.Technically, she might be correct.It was barely four days.Four amazing, sexy days when I didn’t feel scared all the time because Jackson was right there.“It wasn’t a summer fling.”It was a wild ride, a blip in the messed up nightmare of my life, and a shining memory I would never forget.
“Why isn’t heherethen?Why doesn’t he visit?Why don’t I knowmy own father?”Her tirade hurt my ears.I fought the urge to cover them.
“He lives far away.”
“There’s this invention called airplanes, Mom.”
“The nearest airport is Bar Harbor.”Funny the things you learn when researching escape routes.
“Car rentals.”
“Zoe.”
“Mom.”She fired back at me, mimicking the warning tone I put into her name.“I want to know the truth, okay?”
This day came too soon.I always thought it would be a school project or bullying, or later, when she was an adult and finally tracing her history.But not in the middle of an argument.Not when I was already defensive and frightened.
“I was raped.”That came out wrong.
She paled.
“Not with you, or that’s not how… oh geez.What I’m trying to say is your father saved me.”
The hope on her face killed me.Not because I hated it, but because it mirrored everything I wanted but had lost.
“First, he set me up with a shelter in… another state.When my… husband, who is a horrible man, mind you, found me there, your father helped hide me again.So, you see why he stays away?”
“No.”
I took a step back, blindsided.
“That doesn’t make sense, Mom.He hid you but didn’t stick around?”
“If he had, he would’ve led Shock right to us.And, he’d be dead.We all would be.Maybe.Or worse, not dead.That’s definitely worse.”I couldn’t lookher in the eyes.My cheeks were overly warm.A dead giveaway that they’d flushed red in shame.
“Wouldn’t he—Shock—what kind of name is that?”
“A biker name.Keith Shock Weaver.Of Pittsburgh.”
She blinked at me.“Your last name is Brown.”
I shook my head.“It’s an alias.”
Her face went from confused to scowling.“We live next door to a cop.He’s my godfather.”
“John knows.He helped me pick your last name.”
“Our last name.”
“Yes,ours.”Calling myself Katherine Jackson was too close to the truth, so I had to give up that name almost as quickly as I’d used it.
She mulled that over.“I have a social security number.”
“Yes.”
