Page 107 of The Taskmaster
“Was,” she corrected, and I felt a harsh sting in my gut.
She stood up and walked over to her bookshelf, pulled a photo album from it, and walked back over to sit with me.
“Your father was a good man. He served in the military. That’s how he died. He was on tour, and his unit was out on patrol when they drove over an IED. It killed them instantly. That’s the only comfort I have, that he didn’t suffer.”
She smiled as she started to flip through her photo album.
“Your father liked tattoos. He had quite a few of them, just like you.” She settled on a page and pointed at a photo of a group of soldiers standing together. “There is he. That’s my Michael.”
I took the album from her and peered closely at the man who was my father. He had a strong build, stood tall and confident, and I couldn’t deny, he did look like me. And then I looked at the men who stood beside him, and at the end, standing apart from the others, looking out of place, stood a face I’d never forget as long as I lived.
Frederick Wilson from Clivesdon House.
“Do you know this guy?” I asked, pointing him out.
“If I remember right, your father wasn’t keen on that man. Said he was a coward. I think they had a few fights, and your father reported him for his poor conduct. Your dad said he put a lot of soldiers’ lives at risk with the way he behaved.”
The puzzle pieces were all falling into place. Wilson knew my father. I’m guessing he knew who I was too. Charles Quinn had probably told him.
Was that why they kept me there so long?
He couldn’t let me go because he couldn’t let his hatred of my father go. I was the vessel he used to take out his twisted anger and sick revenge. I could be wrong, and I’d probably never know the truth, but the facts were there, and it felt too convenient.
“He’ll be looking down on us now,” my mother said proudly, dragging me out of my dark memory, back to the here and now. “He’ll be watching us and smiling. He’d be so glad we found each other.”
“He’s not the only one.”
“He was a good man. It killed him that he wasn’t there when you were born.”
I hadn’t been a good man. But I hoped that I could be the man I needed to be, for now and in the future.
A loving husband.
A doting father.
And a strong, reliable son.
The End.
