Chapter 2: Twenty Men and a Promise
Emily had never been surrounded by so many people who actually wanted to be around her.
That was the strangest part.
Not the leather jackets. Not the motorcycles. Not even the fact that Hank looked like he could lift a refrigerator without breaking a sweat.
It was the attention.
Every time Emily tried to step away, somebody asked whether she needed something.
“Need water?””
“Want a sandwich?””
“Your flowers getting crushed?””
“Somebody get this girl a chair!””
Hank finally raised both hands.
“Everybody back up! You're making her feel like she's at a police interrogation!””
The men laughed.
Emily smiled nervously.
Jace stood beside her, holding a paper cup of lemonade.
“Sorry about them.””
“They're loud.””
“That's their quiet setting.””
Hank overheard.
“Hey! We can be quiet!””
Nobody believed him.
Outside the auditorium, the afternoon sun reflected off twenty motorcycles.
Students were taking pictures beside them. A few parents had started asking the bikers questions about their club.
Emily stood beside a black motorcycle with silver flames painted along its tank.
“Is this yours?”” she asked Jace.
“Sure is.””
“It's beautiful.””
“Expensive, too. Don't tell my insurance company I said that.””
She laughed.
It was a small laugh, but Jace noticed.
Three months earlier, she had looked like someone carrying the weight of the entire world.
Today, she was still carrying something heavy, but at least she was smiling.
Hank approached with two wrapped sandwiches.
“Eat.””
Emily blinked.
“I'm not hungry.””
“Didn't ask if you were hungry.””
“Hank,” Jace warned.
“What? She's sixteen. Sixteen-year-olds are supposed to eat every seventeen minutes.””
Emily accepted the sandwich.
“Thank you.””
Hank nodded.
“That's better.””
He walked away, muttering something about teenagers being too skinny.
Emily watched him go.
“Are all of you like this?””
“Unfortunately,” Jace replied.
“Why?””
He leaned against his motorcycle.
“Most of us have been through things we don't talk about much. Some of us had good families. Some didn't. But somewhere along the way, we figured out that you don't need to share blood to show up for somebody.””
Emily looked at him.
“Is that why you came?””
“Partly.””
“What does that mean?””
Jace took a breath.
“Can I ask you something?””
“Sure.””
“Your mother. Rachel Carter. Was she your only family?””
Emily's smile disappeared.
“Pretty much.””
“Your father?””
“Left when I was little.””
“Do you know where he is?””
“No.””
“Have you heard from him?””
Emily shook her head.
“Not since I was four.””
Jace nodded slowly.
“I'm sorry.””
Emily shrugged.
“It's okay.””
But her fingers tightened around the sandwich wrapper.
Jace didn't push.
Instead, he reached into his jacket.
“There's something I want you to see.””
He pulled out a small photograph.
It was old, slightly faded, with rounded corners.
A woman stood beside a group of bikers outside a roadside diner.
Emily took it.
Her breath caught.
“That's my mom.””
Jace nodded.
“I thought you'd recognize her.””
Emily stared at the photograph.
Her mother looked younger, maybe twenty-five. She wore a denim jacket and had her hair tied back.
Behind her stood several men.
One was Hank.
Another was Jace, looking considerably younger, with dark hair and no gray in his beard.
Emily turned the photograph over.
Written on the back were the words:
The people who kept their promise. October 2009.
“Where did you get this?””
“It was in our clubhouse.””
“Why?””
Jace rubbed his beard.
“That's a long story.””
“Then tell me.””
He glanced toward Hank.
Hank had been watching them from a few feet away.
“Rachel helped us once,” Jace said.
“Helped you how?””
“Twenty years ago, some of us were in a bad situation. We were young, broke, and stupid enough to think we could handle everything ourselves.””
Hank snorted.
“Speak for yourself. I was always intelligent.””
Jace ignored him.
“Your mother worked at a diner where some of us used to eat. One night, a man came in looking for trouble. Rachel stood between him and one of our younger guys.””
Emily looked confused.
“My mom?””
“Your mother had more courage than most people twice her size.””
Hank stepped closer.
“She also had a habit of feeding people who couldn't afford to pay.””
Emily's eyes filled.
“She never told me any of this.””
“Maybe she didn't think it mattered,” Jace said.
“Or maybe she didn't want me involved in something dangerous.””
Hank's expression changed.
“Your mother was very particular about keeping you safe.””
Emily looked at him.
“You knew her?””
“Not as well as Jace did.””
Jace looked down at the photograph.
“Rachel was a good woman.””
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Emily asked the question that had been bothering her.
“If you knew my mom, why didn't you come before?””
Jace didn't answer immediately.
He knew the question was fair.
“Because I didn't know where she went.””
“What do you mean?””
“After Rachel left town, we lost contact. I tried finding her a few years later, but the address we had was old.””
Emily looked at the photograph again.
“She got sick when I was twelve.””
Jace's jaw tightened.
“I wish I'd known.””
“She didn't want people worrying about her.””
“That sounds like Rachel.””
Emily swallowed.
“After she died, I didn't know who to call.””
Jace looked at her.
“You could've called us.””
Emily gave a sad little smile.
“I didn't know you existed.””
Hank looked away.
Jace folded his arms.
“That's something we're going to have to fix.””
That evening, Emily returned to her apartment carrying her diploma, the bouquet, the photograph, and a paper bag filled with food.
She placed everything carefully on the kitchen table.
The apartment looked exactly as it had that morning.
The chipped countertop.
The faded curtains.
The refrigerator that rattled every few minutes.
But something felt different.
Her phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
This is Hank. Jace says you made it home. Eat something before you sleep. Congratulations again, kid.
Emily smiled.
Another message arrived.
This is Benny. The guy with the red beard. I wanted to tell you that I once failed algebra three times. You did better than me.
Then another.
This is Luis. If you need help moving into college, we have trucks.
Then another.
This is Frank. Don't let Hank convince you that his chili is good. It isn't.
Emily laughed aloud.
She sat at the kitchen table and opened the old photograph again.
Her mother was smiling.
Emily traced her face with one finger.
“Who were you, Mom?””
The following morning, Emily was halfway through making toast when someone knocked on her apartment door.
Three sharp knocks.
She frowned.
Nobody visited her.
She checked the peephole.
A woman in her forties stood outside, wearing a navy blazer and carrying a leather folder.
Emily opened the door cautiously.
“Emily Carter?””
“Yes?””
“My name is Denise Walker. I'm an attorney.””
Emily's stomach tightened.
“Did I do something wrong?””
“No, sweetheart. Nothing like that.””
Denise glanced down the hallway.
“May I come in?””
Emily hesitated before stepping aside.
The attorney placed her folder on the kitchen table.
“I represent the estate of Rachel Carter.””
Emily stared at her.
“My mother didn't have an estate.””
Denise opened the folder.
“That's what you believe. But there are some documents your mother left with my office.””
“What documents?””
“An updated will, a sealed letter, and instructions regarding a trust account.””
Emily felt the room tilt.
“A trust?””
Denise nodded.
“Yes. Your mother established it years ago.””
Emily shook her head.
“That can't be right. I had to work to pay our electricity bill. Sometimes we didn't have enough money for groceries.””
Denise's expression softened.
“Your mother made very specific arrangements. But before I explain everything, I need to ask you something.””
“What?””
“Do you know where your father is?””
Emily stared at her.
“Why?””
Denise closed the folder.
“Because he contacted my office yesterday.””
Emily went completely still.
“What?””
“He says he's your legal father. He has asked to be notified about the trust.””
Emily's fingers went cold.
“My father hasn't spoken to me in twelve years.””
“I understand.””
“He doesn't even know what grade I'm in.””
Denise took a slow breath.
“Emily, there's something else.””
She turned the folder around.
On the top page was a photograph of a man Emily hadn't seen since she was four.
A familiar face.
Older now.
But unmistakable.
And beneath the photograph was a handwritten note.
If Daniel Carter ever comes looking for Emily, do not give him access to the trust until you have spoken to me.
Emily read the sentence twice.
Then she looked at the attorney.
“Why would my mother write that?””
Denise didn't answer.
Instead, she reached into the folder and removed a sealed envelope.
It had Emily's name written across the front in her mother's handwriting.
May you like
And in the bottom corner were four words:
Only if he returns.
