1992 (cont')
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As Jack drove away from Sharon's, he gripped the wheel, unsure of his next move. Graem and Philip had been there for them. Sharon had tossed that fact at him as if it were nothing, but to Jack, it was everything. What a surprise. No, it was anything but a surprise. Ron's death had probably suited Philip just fine. With Ron gone, the last line of resistance against his hostile takeover of Ron's company was erased. It was all too easy to picture Philip's calculated satisfaction, his relentless ambition unhindered now that Ron was out of the way.
Jack was nearly at Linda's neighborhood—Marilyn's best friend from years ago—but something tugged at him as he drove. He realized Ron's company headquarters weren't far from the route. He told himself it was nothing but curiosity as he turned down the road that would lead him to the office. It had been eight years since he'd seen the place, and although he couldn't bring himself to ask Sharon about it, he had a gnawing sense of how it had probably turned out since Ron's death.
When he finally reached the street, Jack slowed, his pulse picking up as the familiar buildings came into view. The office and the manufacturing hall were still there. But the sight that greeted him confirmed his worst fears. The Williams company was gone. The old sign, the one he'd known so well, was gone. In its place hung a new sign, large and assertive across the factory's façade, saying: BXJ
Jack frowned, studying the bold letters. BXJ. What did that mean? Maybe Ron's company had been rebranded, or perhaps it had been sold. Or worse, maybe the business itself no longer existed, and the property had been leased out to some other company named BXJ altogether.
He let the rental car idle as he rolled slowly down the street, his eyes tracing the fence behind the manufacturing hall. Rows of newly manufactured equipment stood behind it. He recognized the machinery instantly: some horsehead pumps, tanks with attached pumps and hydraulic lines, definitely oil equipment. It wasn't just a similar company—it was Ron's work, his business, now stripped of his name.
Jack pulled over a hundred yards down the road, unable to look away. Eight years. He'd been gone for eight long years, and during that time, everything he'd hoped to prevent had taken root. He could easily picture the circumstances that led to Ron's suicide. Jack had thought he'd given him a fighting chance by warning him about Philip's impending takeover, revealing that his father had secretly amassed 48% of Ron's shares. But that revelation alone hadn't been enough. Ron had crumbled under the pressure, and Jack now realized that someone as proud, principled and devoted as Ron wouldn't have been able to bear the blow. The company had been his life's work, his identity. The heart and soul of everything he'd built.
And Sharon had no idea.
The details came together with sickening clarity. Philip had probably finished the takeover within months. After Ron's death, Ron's shares would have passed to Sharon and Marilyn. Marilyn, only seventeen at the time, and Sharon, unaware of it all, would have been powerless in the face of Philip's plans. All Philip would have needed to do was act like the concerned business partner—maybe complain about the son who'd abandoned him, play the part of the bereaved widower, offer his support to Ron's family.
Jack's stomach turned as he imagined it. Ron's death had given Philip the perfect excuse to move in, sealing the deal he'd pursued with such single-minded determination. His father had found an opportunity, and he'd pounced on it.
He glanced at the BXJ sign again, feeling a deep, dull ache. What did it stand for? The bold "B" at the start nagged at him, unmistakable in its significance. Bauer. Maybe it was Bauer Oil Exploration & Drilling rebranded, dressed up with a new logo and initials to make it sound like something fresh, modern, less ruthless. Something without "oil" in the company name, making it look cleaner? Bauer something, Jack thought, grinding his teeth.
There wasn't much time before his flight, but the idea of doing some reconnaissance at the old headquarters crossed his mind. He wanted answers. He wanted to confront this twisted legacy that had pulled Marilyn's family into its orbit. But the minutes were slipping away, and he knew he couldn't risk missing his flight. He had five hours left, just enough to see Marilyn and get to the airport. His next best option was the nearby phone booth.
Jack pulled over, grabbed the Yellow Pages, and thumbed through it until he found BXJ. Three addresses appeared: one was Ron's old office, one in Pasadena, and another at the address in Burbank—the original headquarters of Bauer Oil Exploration & Drilling. His heart sank. The listing of the Burbank address seemed like all the confirmation he needed. His father's old company had become BXJ, repackaged but no less lethal.
He scanned the directory one last time. No listing for Bauer Oil Exploration & Drilling Co. It was gone, erased and replaced, leaving only the bitter reality that his father's ambitions had overpowered Ron's life's work. And Marilyn, she must have believed the Bauers had saved the company, preserved it through Ron's death. How could she know that her family's legacy had been co-opted, its spirit hollowed out and filled by her father's enemies? That their company was now most likely producing hydraulic fracturing equipment, the one thing Ron had never wanted to produce?
As Jack resumed his drive, a heavy reluctance settled over him. Should he even see Marilyn now? He couldn't deny the truth he'd uncovered, but what would his words accomplish? What good would it do her to learn that her family's legacy was nothing more than another part of the Bauer empire? That her father's death had paved the way for it?
He sat there in silence as these questions ate away at him. Maybe Philip and Graem really had been there for her. Maybe his father and brother had, in some warped way, done what he hadn't. While he'd been with Teri, leaving everything behind, they'd been here, taking care of her, her mother, her life.
Jack felt a wave of regret he could hardly stomach. He'd walked away all those years ago, never realizing that leaving wouldn't break his obligations to the people he loved. It hadn't erased his responsibility. It had only left a hole in their lives, one that Philip and Graem had filled.
Leaving had seemed like the only logical choice, he thought, staring out the windshield. But maybe it hadn't been the right one.
Half an hour passed, the minutes ticking by as Jack sat in his car across from Linda's house, eyes fixed on the door. He'd come all this way to tell Marilyn the truth, yet he wavered. Could he really reveal to her that her father's death had only cleared the path for Philip, that her so-called saviors had been predators waiting for that moment? He'd be tearing down the world she believed in, the family she trusted. Maybe, he considered, it would be kinder to let her live in ignorance. Maybe she'd be better off not knowing.
But no. He had to tell her, at least, about Philip's rages, about the cruelty that had filled their home on Glenn Canyon Drive. She couldn't live there, not if there was any chance it could become her reality. She needed to know the early signs and understand that, if the worst happened, she had to leave before it was too late.
Resolved, Jack got out of the car, the cool click of the lock echoing in the stillness. He took a deep breath and turned, only to see the door to Linda's house open. Two girls—no, young women—emerged, laughing, their voices bright and carefree, a magazine clutched between them as they walked toward the car in the driveway. Jack's heart clenched. Marilyn.
Linda spotted him first. She grabbed Marilyn's arm mid-laugh, stopping her in her tracks. When Marilyn looked up and saw him, the laughter vanished. She froze, her smile fading as she took him in.
He looked so different. Gone was the disheveled blond hair, replaced now by a military cut, crisp and close-cropped. The carefree biker look had given way to a plain military uniform, and the motorcycle he used to ride was gone, replaced by the rental car parked on the curb. She took in the lines on his face, the tiredness, the worry. He looked older, worn. So much had changed, yet despite everything, he was still Jack.
Marilyn's breath caught, the realization flooding over her. Despite all the years, despite telling herself she'd moved on, just seeing him made her heart pound with the same intensity it had when they were young. She hadn't gotten over him; she hadn't even come close. The sight of him stirred up everything she'd fought to bury, every memory, every feeling she thought she'd left behind.
Linda took a step back, sensing the weight of the moment and knowing better than to interfere. Marilyn turned toward the road, crossing it slowly as if pulled by an invisible force. Jack's heart raced, feeling a thousand things at once: guilt, shame, regret. He'd broken her heart without so much as a second thought. He'd left, thinking it would protect her, but now he realized he'd only caused her pain and reached nothing with it.
He stood there, helpless, watching her approach, his throat tight, words beyond his reach. He stared, unable to move or speak. And Marilyn stared back, both of them caught in a moment that felt endless.
She was more beautiful than ever, the girl he remembered now grown into a striking young woman. Her long dark hair fell loosely over her shoulders, framing her face. The intensity of her eyes. She was dressed with a graceful elegance, just a touch of makeup, her features composed but her expression filled with emotions he couldn't quite decipher. Jack's heart ached. She was just as beautiful, maybe even more so, but he'd forfeited any right to admire her.
And though Marilyn's heart ached, knowing she still loved him as deeply as ever, she forced her voice to stay steady, lacing her words with all the anger she'd held inside for years.
"You asshole," she said, her voice sharp, yet trembling.
Jack flinched, feeling the sting of her words, but he couldn't bring himself to respond. He saw her eyes glisten with tears, anger simmering beneath the surface.
"You asshole," she repeated, louder this time, her face twisting in a mixture of hurt and fury. She swung her purse and thrust it against his chest with all the strength she could muster.
Jack staggered back slightly, absorbing the blow, though he knew it was nothing compared to the pain he'd caused her. He let her hit him, let her release everything she'd held back, understanding that it was more than deserved and that she needed to let it out. He'd come here to explain, but right now, he couldn't find a single word that could begin to make up for what he'd done.
After a few more swings of her purse, Marilyn's words trailed off into muffled sobs, and she finally broke down in tears. Without thinking, Jack stepped forward, wrapping her in his arms. She hesitated, tense and reluctant, but as his arms held steady around her, she let herself lean in, gripping his uniform as though afraid he'd disappear again. She buried her face in his shoulder. Jack felt his own emotions give way, as he clung to her.
He tried to hold it back, but it was too much. Eight years of regret and unspoken truths surged to the surface. He hadn't come here to undo the past, but he couldn't help picturing Marylin in the exact same place his mother had been. He remembered her courage and her strength – and he feared Marilyn might not have the same strength that Marianne had had. He needed to tell her about the Bauer family, about the dangerous life that waited for her at Glenn Canyon Drive. She deserved to know what Philip's influence would mean for her, how Graem, molded under his father's control, could so easily become the same kind of man. Jack searched for the right words but found none. How could he lay all that at her feet and then what—expect her to break the engagement? Walk away from Graem, even with their families' business interests now bound together? Where would she go? What would she do?
A cold shiver ran down his back as he realized Marilyn was already caught in the Bauer family's grip, just as his mother, Marianne, had been. She couldn't break free now without unraveling everything—her family, her life. He'd come too late. Eight years too late.
Finally, he gripped her shoulders gently and stepped back, holding her at arm's length. She looked up at him with swollen, tear-filled eyes, and he found himself only able to ask, "Is he good to you?"
Marilyn stared, confusion flickering across her face. Good to her? It was a question that felt both painfully simple and impossibly complicated. She opened her mouth, then shut it, looking away as if the answer lay somewhere in the distance. Graem had two sides, and she never knew which she'd encounter. Sometimes he was charming, attentive; other times, cold and withdrawn. He could be as unpredictable as a storm, his moods shifting without warning. But compared to Jack… She pushed the thought away, refusing to compare them.
Instead, she disregarded his question and looked him over, eyes catching on the uniform, lingering for a moment as if searching for some hidden answer. "Are you back home for good now?"
For a split second, she let herself hope this was a miracle, that maybe Jack had returned to stay, to be the man she had always believed he could be. She imagined him as the soldier who had spent years away, the man who'd come back wiser, stronger, aware of everything he'd missed.
But his quiet answer shattered that fragile hope. "No, I have to fly back today."
Her heart sank, reality crashing down around her. "Then why have you come here?"
He swallowed, looking down, his mind a whirlwind of half-formed reasons. He could barely bring himself to speak. What could he say? That he was here to unravel her life, to tear apart the family she was marrying into? All over something that had happened years ago, something that maybe didn't matter anymore? So he settled on the one answer he could give her. "I just needed to make sure they're good to you," he said, his voice thick with the things he couldn't say, hoping she'd understand what he truly meant.
Marilyn's shoulders slumped. She looked down, wrestling with her thoughts. She wanted to tell him the truth—that she already knew about Philip's rages, the way he could explode without warning. That she was worried, too, wondering if things would get better over time, or worse. Graem never stood up for her, and he followed Philip's every word without question. Graem's love came with conditions—sometimes he was the man she'd wanted him to be, but other times, he was as cold and calculating as his father. She wasn't sure which side would win out. But she was sure of one thing: that she'd never love Graem the way she had once loved Jack.
She lifted her head and took his hands from her shoulders, squeezing them gently. She understood now at least a little bit better why he'd left eight years ago. He didn't have two sides; he had been steady, always stable, he had never fit into that family. For a fleeting moment, she imagined running away with him, leaving all of it behind. They could just leave everything behind, like he had done once, and maybe they could find the happiness they'd both missed.
But that hope slipped away as her eyes dropped to his hand and saw the ring on his finger. Her breath caught as she looked at the simple golden ring, the undeniable proof that Jack's life had already moved on. She released his hands as if they were something poisonous, taking a small step back, her gaze shifting from his ring to his eyes, which softened with the silent apology he didn't know how to give.
"How long?" she asked quietly, motioning to the ring.
"Six years," Jack replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He almost couldn't believe it himself, as he said it. He'd already been married for six long years. "I have a five-year-old daughter," he added, his words slicing through whatever hope she'd let herself feel.
Marilyn's expression tightened, her hands trembling as she fought the wave of emotions rising within her. She wanted to scream, to cry, to flee, but she forced herself to hold it back. Anger surged up to replace her heartbreak, and she latched onto it, using it to steady herself. She was already about to turn away, but one last thought caught her, and she turned back, her finger jabbing lightly against his chest, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with both sorrow and fury.
"You're an asshole, Jack," she said, her voice quiet but fierce. "For leaving—and even more for coming back."
And with that, she spun on her heel, heading back to Linda, who'd been watching from a distance. Marilyn grabbed her friend's hand, and without another glance at Jack, they hurried into Linda's car and drove off.
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Jack parked his rental car a hundred yards away from his own house, his gaze drifting toward the garden fence, where he caught sight of a small figure moving just beyond it. It was Kim, darting across the yard with an energy he recognized all too well. She was probably laughing, playing badminton with herself, like she loved to. She was still so young, so innocent. The one person in the world he loved most.
But as he sat there, Marilyn's words from earlier echoed in his mind. You're an asshole, Jack. The guilt gnawed at him, settling like a weight on his chest. He felt like an asshole. No, he was an asshole, torn between the lingering feelings for Marilyn and the life he had with Teri and Kim. He loved them, yet here he was, watching from a distance, paralyzed by the effects of the choices he'd made years ago.
He leaned back, kept watching Kim, but his thoughts drifting back to those days, eight years ago, when he'd left it all behind. He'd convinced himself that severing every bond had been the right thing to do—cutting himself off from his family, the Bauers, the Williams family, and even Marilyn. He'd told himself he was protecting them all, that leaving was for their sake. But now, watching Kim play, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd been selfish. That maybe he'd been protecting himself more than anyone else.
Just then, he saw Teri on the terrace. She was stepping outside, calling to Kim, her gaze patient as she watched their daughter scramble up to the porch. Jack's heart twisted. Seeing her now, he knew—he loved her with everything he had. Teri was nothing like the Bauer or Williams families. She didn't bring a web of business connections, financial decisions, or alliances. With Teri, love had just been love, a commitment built on late-night talks, scraped-together rent, and the determination to make things work. It had always been them against the world, figuring out how to keep their lives going.
He thought back to those early days. How free they'd felt, the two of them up at Indian Springs, laughing, sleeping under the stars, riding his motorcycle across mountain roads with no plan other than spending time together. They'd camp out in the wilderness, just the two of them against the open sky. None of that would have been possible with Marilyn. His time with her had always been anchored to golf clubs, airfields, and polished parties where appearances and expectations came first. She was part of a world he couldn't breathe in, a life tied up in obligations he'd come to despise. And yet, he couldn't deny it—he had loved her. Just not the life that came with her. Maybe he had been unfair to her: he had let that world around her taint the love for her.
Jack stayed there, watching as the evening settled, shadows lengthening over the yard as Teri took Kim inside. He sat in the stillness of the car for another half hour, debating whether he should go over, ring the doorbell, and hold Teri close, tell her how much he loved her. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms, to kiss her, to feel the grounding presence of the woman who was still by his side, six years later, after all that he had done in these six years. After all the loneliness he had made her go through.
But he felt a kind of shame creeping over him, a sense of betrayal. He'd come to LA because of Marilyn, not for Teri and Kim. The same arms that had just held Marilyn couldn't be the ones to hold Teri now. It felt wrong, as if he'd be betraying both of them by not being able to choose.
With a heavy heart, Jack started the car, glancing back once more at the house before he pulled away. Back to LAX. Back to Europe. Back to the beginning war.
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