Train's Clash
Page 77

“He’s Rae’s father.” She flipped the next page over. It showed the major holding a crying baby as Peyton looked lovingly at the man who showed no pride or affection for the tiny infant he held. “I met him when I was sixteen. I had gone to stay with my aunt and uncle when my mother was killed in a car accident.
“I was jogging one day when a man tried to drag me off the path. Timothy stopped him. He helped me home and stayed with me until my aunt could come home.” She ran a graceful hand over the picture; love in every brush of her fingers. “I became infatuated with him. I saw him several times when I went out jogging, and he would stop to talk to me. He would walk me home”—she looked up from the picture, blushing—“and I invited him inside.
“I didn’t know he was still married then. Truthfully, I was so in love with him I don’t think it would have mattered, anyway. He told me he was separated from his wife. Then, when he was selected to become one of the president’s pilots, he admitted he was getting back together with her, that the president wouldn’t allow any unmarried men on his team. That’s what he told me.”
Peyton had been a sixteen-year-old who had been taken advantage of by a man Train and others had respected. If the gossip had gotten out, his career would have been destroyed.
“I still remember that day. I’m ashamed to admit I begged him not to leave me. I told him I was pregnant and didn’t know what I would do. My aunt and uncle didn’t know about our affair. They didn’t want me there, much less help me raise a baby.” She flipped over another page.
“He bought the trailer and the land to put it on. Timothy promised, when he could, we would be able to see us more. He was worried about anyone finding out. I didn’t care, as long as I didn’t lose him. I was willing to do anything he wanted.
“When he came to Jamestown, I thought we could go places and do things together, but Timothy was always worried about someone finding out, especially when Rae grew older and started calling him daddy. He would smack her hand every time she did and make her call him Timothy.”
She lifted her lashes. “You can’t hate me any more than I hate myself. I can’t justify to myself why I let that happen. I had no friends or family by then—my aunt and uncle had died from cancer. I was so afraid Timothy would turn his back on me and Rae that I tolerated things I never would have done now that I’m older.
“Other than when he smacked her hand, he never touched her in anger … or affection. Rae adored him. She would stare out the window when I told her he was coming and wait until he got here. As she grew older, his visits came fewer and fewer.
“One day, when Rae was in school, Hammer and Jonas came with Timothy. He told me he wouldn’t be coming back anymore, and Hammer and Jonas would help us move into a small apartment. I broke down. I didn’t want to leave my home.
“The next day, Hammer and Jonas told me that Timothy had changed his mind, and we could stay. After that, we saw Timothy even less—maybe twice a year—while Hammer or Jonas were here every other weekend.”
She flicked through page after page filled with pictures of Rae as a young girl. “She was an outstanding student. She would show Timothy her grades when he came, doing everything she could to make him proud. It was never enough. When she was little, she even told Timothy she wanted to go into the military like him when she grew up. He talked her out of it, saying she didn’t have what it took to be a soldier.
“She was in sixth grade when the school band was asked to the inauguration. She kept saying the new president wouldn’t care if Timothy was married. She kept believing that we would be a family. I tried to tell her it wasn’t going to happen, but she just kept telling me, ‘You just have to believe, Mama. I do.’
“When she came home from that band trip, the little girl who had left came back a young woman I didn’t know.” Suddenly, sobs tore from her lips. She pressed a hand to her mouth from crying aloud again. Train put an arm around her shoulder as Peyton gathered herself to continue. “She never told me what happened. Jonas did—they were there also. He said the students had filed in line to shake the president’s hand, and Timothy was standing where they had to pass him. When Rae tried to take his arm and talk to him, he moved away as if he had never seen her before.”
“The bastard is lucky he’s dead.” Train’s harsh voice had Peyton crying harder.
“You want to know the sickest part? I didn’t tell him to go take a flying leap the next time he came. We just pretended it didn’t happen. Except, Killyama would find a friend or go to Hammer’s to stay the night or whole day when he came, and she wouldn’t come back until he left.
“The day he was killed by his wife, she laughed. She laughed so long and hard that Hammer had to take her to emergency room. They said it was hysteria. They had to give her a sedative to calm her down.”
“I remembered when he was killed,” Train said. “It made all the papers. He was coming home from a mission, and his wife was sitting on the steps when he came through the door. She shot him six times.”
“Yes.” Peyton nodded. “Killyama … By then she was grown, and they hadn’t talked in years. I didn’t handle it well. Even though I didn’t spend much time with him, I missed him so badly that I’m ashamed to admit I turned to drugs. By the time Killyama found out, I was an addict and kept using them every chance I had. I refused to stop, sneaking out to get some during the middle of the night. She even took my car away so she would have to take me everywhere. When she was gone, I would walk to somewhere the dealers would meet me.
“One night I slipped out then came back to bed to pass out, Hammer, Jonas, and Killyama carried me out of my home and checked me into a rehab center. When I tried to leave, she told me it was the drugs or her. She told me that I had chosen Timothy over her and asked if I was going to choose drugs over her, too. I’ve been clean ever since.”
“Can I ask you a question?” Train handed her a tissue from the desk.
She shakily wiped her tears away. “There isn’t much I haven’t told you.”
“Why does she mail presents so I don’t know who they’re coming from? Why won’t she just give them to me herself?”
Peyton’s tear-filled eyes met his. “When she was a little girl and Timothy came by, she would draw him pictures he would never take with him. As she grew older, she would save her money to buy him things. The last time I remember her giving a present, she had bought him a watch. He left it sitting on the table in the kitchen when he left. Usually, I would hide the gifts so she wouldn’t get her feelings hurt, but I didn’t see it sitting there when we went outside to say good-bye. He was getting in the car when she saw he wasn’t wearing it, so she said she would go get it for him. He left as she was coming out the door.”
Peyton flipped the scrapbook closed before carrying it back to the closet. Then she opened the second closet. Taking out a small box, she then lovingly packed Killyama’s statue with bubble wrap before putting it inside. Placing the lid on, she handed it to him.
“Remember, you gave me you word not to tell anyone.”
“Her father is dead; why would it make a difference if anyone found out now? She made sure no one can discover who he is.”