“I couldn’t go without you.” His skin pales, and he leans back against the stretcher again. He gently prods his forehead and winces. “They just took your mom on the other one. Will you ride over with me?”
“Yes, please.” My desperation to make sure Mama is okay overrides my fear of finding out she might not be. The paramedics lift Jordan’s stretcher into the ambulance.
I get myself in and seated, and my whole body trembles as I try to tell myself that Mama will be fine. As the paramedic is about to hop in and close the door, Jordan’s dad runs up and grabs the handle.
“I’ll lead the way,” he says with a glance at Jordan before looking over at me. “We’ll get you back to your mother as fast as we can.”
Jordan frowns like he thinks he heard him wrong. “Wait, you—you’re coming?”
Mr. Vega nods, his voice gruff with emotion. “I want to be there … with you. I asked Detective Jackson to take over processing the scene.”
Jordan still looks startled, but he finds the words he needs to say. “I—thank you, Dad.”
“I love you, Jordan—always,” he says quietly, before shutting the door and jogging over to his car.
38
I STAND BESIDE BRAYS BAYOU in Mason Park and let the warm breeze ruffle my hair. Jordan stands on my left, his hand curled around mine. Four days later, some of the swelling on Jordan’s face has started to go down. He wears a boot on his foot and will probably have a scar forever from the stitches up the right side of his forehead. When I look at him he smiles wide, and it feels like everything may honestly, truly be okay.
Today would’ve been Daddy’s last day if he’d stayed in prison. Tonight, just after midnight, would’ve been the time of Daddy’s execution. Instead, he’s already gone, and I stand here mourning everyone that I’ve lost.
Reaching in my pocket, I pull out the bag containing my paper chess set and clench it tight in my hand. My fingers tremble as I reach in and draw out a few pieces.
I stare out across the water and scatter white paper pawns into the air as I whisper the names: “To Maren Jameson, Sarah Casey, Hillary Vanderstaff, Valynne Kemp. We’ll never forget what you lost.”
Reaching back into the bag, I pull out the white king. I kiss it before releasing it. “And to Benjamin Masters. Thank you for sacrificing everything to keep us safe.”
The white king catches an updraft and disappears against the sky. I stop watching, happy with the idea that it may never land. Jordan squeezes my hand and finishes, “Rest in peace.”
I glance back at the car and see Mama watching us closely from the front passenger seat. She was released from the hospital less than an hour ago. The surgeon stopped her internal bleeding, and she’s improving daily, but nothing but time will heal the multiple broken bones, cuts, and bruises everywhere. Until then, she’s on strict orders to stay off her feet for the next several weeks.
Still, when I told her I wanted to come say goodbye, she asked me to do it on our way home from the hospital so she could be with me. Even after I told her she’d have to stay in the car and rest, she said she didn’t care. She just didn’t want me to be alone.
I’d almost lost her. I’d almost been without her forever. Today, when I’m so grateful that I’m not alone, it’s impossible to say no to a request like that.
She gives me a small wave and a weak smile, but her skin is still so pale it scares me.
Jordan gives me a tight hug and then moves back toward the car. “I’ll go make sure your mom is comfortable.”
I hesitate, knowing that I’m not done here. “I’ll be right behind you. Just give me one more minute.”
When Jordan stops and his eyes linger on mine, he seems to understand. Once he gets to the car and opens the door, I hear him say something to Mama so low I can’t hear him. She laughs in response, and I smile to myself.
Reaching again into my plastic chess bag, I carefully remove the black king from the paper chess set and hold it tight in my hand.
I think for a minute before saying the only thing that can possibly match all of my confusing emotions. “To you, Daddy. I’ll always love and remember the part of you that never forgot to write me letters, didn’t let me win at chess, and will always love me forever. I hope you find the peace you’re looking for, too.”
Then I lift my palm to the sky, opening my fingers. The tiny piece flutters on the wind and eventually lands on the water. It floats lazily across the bayou until it slips beneath the lapping ripples and sinks out of sight. As I turn back toward the car, Daddy’s voice echoes through my head one final time.
Checkmate.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS