Playing Jacks

iv. Life is Full of Regrets

Sophie’s cheeks had blazed with mortification. “Mama, I never said . . .”

“You didn’t have to, dove.  Engaged a week after his divorce?  I’m not a slow woman, Soapy- despite what you may think.”

“No, Mama, of course not.  I didn’t mean . . .”

But Sophie’s mother wasn’t interested in debating her intelligence.  Sitting across from her daughter with a hard expression, she’d examined her like she could see right past her skin and into her heart. “I don’t trust that man, Soapy-girl.  Something’s not jarring right.  If you ask me- and I’m keenly aware that you’re not- he’s marrying you to get back at his wife for leaving him.  Show her what’s-for.  He can catch the next pretty thing to walk through his door.”  Sophie opened her mouth to argue, but her mother raised a plump hand and stopped the words in their tracks. “Ain’t much of a nevermind to me, young lady.  You’ve always had a stubborn streak.  Figure that you’re gonna do what you’re gonna do.  But let this here conversation be your reminder.  When you wonder why didn’t nobody warn ya off- this was it.  This was your warning.” 

That had been her last conversation with her mother in that kitchen.  A month later, she and her father both died in a car accident.  They hadn’t even been present to see Sophie make the worst mistake of her life.  Now, sitting on this beach, she’s torn between gratitude that her parents hadn’t seen the shameful ending to this story and heartache that they’re nowhere near to cry on.  Mistaken or no, Sophie had always known that she was loved.

Now there’s nobody.

She’s no one’s wife.  She’s no one’s daughter. 

She’s alone, her days etched with heart-wrenching grief, shame and disappointment.  The mirror reflects back the labels everyone’s thrown on her. 

Jacks jumps off the grid.  Straddling the growling motorcycle, he turns westward and rumbles across the Georgia landscape, not bothering to note the scenery or even the road names.  No one knows where he is; no one knows where he’s going- least of all, him.

Forget her. He orders himself.  Forget the chocolate brown eyes that laugh for her when those plump lips won’t let the sound escape.  Forget the soft tussle of dark curls that spill from its ponytail.  Forget the plush flesh that brushed him when she passed.  Forget the vulnerable woman that’s trusting his family to protect her and . . . skidding sideways, Jacks stops the motorcycle.  Curses rip through his lips.  The lies: Forget the lies.  His father may not intend the deception but Jacks knows the truth.  That little apartment over the pool house is nothing but a holding cell until the family’s hired assassin makes his appearance.

And Sophie has no idea. 

No doubt his father thought that information too stressful.  No doubt they hope that passports and name changes will materialize before the family choses to act.  But once they determine that his Uncle Bryce’s attempts to bring soft Sophie back under his influence have failed, then the stalling game will end.  Everything will explode.

They can’t even go to the police.  Hell, with his family’s history this would go straight to the FBI and that would only get ugly, fast. 

Jacks hits the handlebars.  Raking both hands through his midnight black hair, he looks into the morning blue sky and, with a grit of teeth, sternly reminds himself that this is not the reason he’s returned to the states. 

It’s not someone else he’s trying to save from the Family’s crosshairs.

It’s not someone else’s life he’s trying to salvage.