Legions (Georgia Smoke #7)

Ten

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Esther was as dramatic as my mother.

Capri

The fact that no stable hand but Jim would make eye contact with me was understandable. I no longer felt like they were angry at me or didn’t want me here. I completely understood. But if I let myself dwell on it too long, I began to get that heavy knot in my stomach—the one where I felt guilty for all Thatcher had done in his need to protect me.

After waking up with night terrors for a week, Thatcher started wrapping me up in his arms, our chests touching and sleeping with me like that. Three nights in, it was working. I slept free of images of the man I had long forgotten appearing in my dreams. The ever-present tension in his shoulders had eased, too. He wasn’t on edge, ready to strike anymore. I began to fear for the safety of anyone who came near me.

Jim gave me a nod as I passed him. His friendly smile always reminding me that I wasn’t a pariah here. Just that the others were terrified of Thatcher. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out to see my mom’s number. She’d called three times this morning. I continued to ignore her. Not today, Mom.

“Mornin’ Capri,” Sebastian called out as he walked out of the office with his hair mused. His hand was clutching Royal’s as she followed him out. Her lips slightly swollen, and her shirt hastily tucked into her jeans.

I grinned. “Good morning,” I replied.

“You gonna take Bloodline out and see if you can break his time from Monday?” he asked me.

That was what King had suggested. “Yeah,” I told him, but I wasn’t sure that Bloodline would beat that time on the track alone. He seemed to excel in races because he was competitive. I’d mentioned that to Miller, but he did not appear to agree. Although he wouldn’t argue with me. Thanks to Thatcher, no one would. It was annoying.

“Royal wants to watch,” he said. “When are you taking him out?”

I glanced down the stalls to see Miller talking to one of the new stable hands as he prepped Bloodline. “I’d say in about ten minutes.”

The gorgeous blonde at his side had long legs, the kind I had envied most of my life and every other perfect feature that the Lord could have handed out. She was also friendly, witty, and had a fire in her spirit. If she didn’t make Sebastian so ridiculously happy, I would be jealous of the other woman. She was everything I wished I could be but lacked in body and personality.

“I watched you on Nemesis last week, and that was incredible. Y’all were flying,” Royal said in her thick drawl that I was sure made most men’s knees weak.

“If we can get Thatcher to let her take Zephyr at full speed again, you’ll be really impressed,” Sebastian said, smiling down at her like she were his sun and he was orbiting around her.

“He’s the massive one that I won’t get near,” she asked.

He chuckled. “Yeah.”

“He’s Thatcher’s?”

Sebastian nodded again.

“Figures.”

That made Sebastian laugh.

Her ice blue eyes that had slate outer rings swung back to me. “You ride that beast of a horse?”

I sighed, glancing down to his stall. “Yeah. When Thatcher allows it.” One of those things I was working on accepting. Thatcher was terrified of me going too fast on Zephyr, especially in a race where I could be in an accident.

“Allows it?” she asked, her eyebrows shooting up and shoulders thrown back. “Don’t you let a man control you.”

I opened my mouth to explain when Sebastian tugged her against his side and kissed the top of her head. “It’s not what you think, Ace,” he told her. “My brother can’t stand the thought of Capri getting hurt. That’s all.”

Royal’s gaze softened some, but not entirely. She wasn’t completely satisfied with that answer.

My phone buzzed again in my jeans, and annoyed, I jerked it out to end the call, sending my mother to voicemail again, when I saw Esther, my former best friend’s, name on the screen. She hadn’t texted or called me in months. Not since I had returned from being abducted by Thatcher and told the media that it had been a misunderstanding. I had gone away with him willingly. My parents had been hurt, and she hadn’t agreed with my decisions or choice in men.

My finger hovered over the screen as it rang a third time before I accepted it and placed the phone to my ear. I gave Sebastian and Royal a brief smile and then walked down toward the East exit, where no one else was. I didn’t know what to expect from her, but I also didn’t want others to hear. Esther had been my best friend all my life, and then she wasn’t. It had hurt, but I had found peace with it.

When forced to choose, I chose who I couldn’t live without- Thatcher.

“Hello,” I said, the hesitancy in my tone obvious.

“Can you not answer your mother’s calls? Seriously, Capri, who are you? What happened to the girl I knew?” the frantic, judgmental tone of her voice would have made me hang up if there hadn’t also been a slight hysteria in it. One I recognized because I knew her well. Almost as well as I knew myself.

“I’m sorry, Esther. But why are you calling me about my choice not to speak to my mother?” I asked, my hand tightening its grip on the phone.

“Because you won’t answer her. Do you not watch the news? Or do you just not care?” The anger in her tone lashed out at me.

“As a matter of fact, no, I don’t watch the news. But you would know that. I was unaware you’d started watching it yourself.” Esther had always said if there was any news worth hearing, she’d read about it on Facebook or see it in her TikTok feed.

“If you weren’t locked away on the Shephard compound then you would have been aware that everything in town is falling apart. And it all revolves around YOUR family.”

Her emphasis on the last part had made it clear she believed I had traded in my parents for Thatcher’s family. I also doubted the town was falling apart. Esther was as dramatic as my mother.

“What has happened?” I asked, crossing one arm over my chest as I stepped into the sunshine.

“Oh, let’s see. Where to begin. I know. Your mom walked into the church offices two days ago and caught your father banging Maelee.”

My arm fell to my side, and I froze. “What?” I asked in disbelief.

Maelee Phillips was three years older than me. She’d taken over as the Children’s director two years ago, which had surprised a lot of people, seeing as they thought Mrs. Dean would be taking the position.

“You heard me.” Esther snapped. “Naked and spread out on your father’s desk in the church. Slut. I always knew she was a slut.”

Okay, wait. I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. My father, who had never even said a curse word in my life, supposedly was having sex with a thirty-year-old woman in his office. I shook my head. My mother was lying.

“Why would Mom say that?” I asked, my anger building at her selfish actions. I tried to think of any possible reason she would say something so awful.

“She didn’t! She said nothing. Your father stood before the congregation the next morning, admitted it to the church body, then resigned and walked out the back door. He and Maelee have left town. No one knows where. Your mother is falling apart. Completely humiliated. Then the news gets a hold of it because Mel Rainy called Maelee a whore in the parking lot of the church, and Maelee’s momma swung her fifty-pound purse full of God knows what and hit Mel across the head. She fell onto the cement and cracked her skull. Chaos broke out, police were called, it was awful!”

I had to lean against the nearest wall. It was true. My dad had admitted this? What? How? I shook my head. So many questions running through my head as my chest… hurt. But for who? My mom?

“She needs support. More than me. She needs her daughter.”

“What… what did he say? Did he talk to her?” This was so unreal I was struggling to find reality at all. My father wouldn’t do that. Right? Not the man that had raised me. The one who quoted the Bible about everything.

“He came home that night after ignoring your mom’s calls. Told her he was in love with Maelee. They’ve been having an affair for five years. Your mom begged him to work it out. She would keep quiet. They could get past it. But he had said nothing. Just took a shower and went to bed in the guest bedroom. The next day, he got up and dressed, then left for church early like he always did. She went thinking perhaps he was ready to talk to her. But instead, he publicly humiliated her.”

I was without words as I stared straight ahead. Allowing it to sink in. Make sense. But that wasn’t happening. I didn’t think it would ever make sense.

“Is she at home?” I finally asked.

“Yes. I’m here with her.”

Of course, she was. Esther was the daughter all women wanted—the one who did as told and expected and never put her own desires above theirs.

“I’m on my way,” I told her, then ended the call.

Not once in any scenario had I thought this would be a call I would receive. My father was a respected Methodist minister. The man who prayed over the football team on Friday nights before a game, the man who took meals to those who were unable to leave their homes, the man that other pastors came to if they needed prayer.

“But every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed,” I whispered the verse I’d heard my father preach on more than once in my life. “James 1:14”