Tomorrow Never Comes

Chapter 16: You Never Knocked Me Down

“But why are you meeting Jude at the farmhouse this morning?” Every morning and I mean that literally, Lucas would start the day with a protein shake then head to Jude’s place for a workout.

“He asked me to. Said he has something to tell me.” Lucas was tying his

sneakers. I on the other hand was still in my pajamas.

“What does he want to tell you?” I was in no hurry to get dressed yet.

“I don’t know.” What gets me is Lucas doesn’t even sound curious. He’s always just so accepting of Jude and everything he does. Lucas was always easy going but he seems more so since the incident.

“Why can’t he tell you at his place? Why go all the way to the farmhouse?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with the farmhouse.” Now he was combing his hair.

“Are you going back to his place to work out after?” I was sitting in the middle of the bed watching Lucas get ready.

“I don’t know. I’m dressing for it anyway.”

I knew I was going to be anxious all day waiting to hear from Lucas. It will be near impossible to concentrate on anything. I just can’t figure what he’s going to tell Lucas. At the back of my mind, an idea has planted itself. Something I would never say to Lucas kept swirling around my brain as I went about the business of showering and dressing. I wonder if Jude is leaving.

He never opened to Lucas about his life after leaving Cape May when he was seventeen. Marco tried to find Jude but not so much as a rumor surfaced. It was as if Jude just disappeared into a puff of smoke.

It’s true that my relationship with Jude has improved since Lucas went missing. I didn’t expect Jude to be someone I could count on or even someone I would want to count on, but he was. I saw a side of him I hadn’t seen before. It was a side I didn’t think existed. Finally, I saw what Lucas saw.

Still, that doesn’t mean Jude was forth coming with me about his past. Jude values his privacy. I respect that. I don’t ask him anything. His life is his to share if he chooses and with whom he chooses. Think about it. I know he was a Marine Sniper, locked up for assault and lived on the streets. The man himself told none of those things to me.

I’ve had the impression that he moves around a lot. He doesn’t seem to form emotional attachments to people or places. I don’t think Lucas ever expected Jude to come back or he would have told me about him. Funny, Jude leaving was what I wanted ever since he arrived. Now, I’m not sure how I feel about it. I would be sad to see him go.

Lucas pulled into the long, winding dirt drive and made his way to the farmhouse. Jude’s truck was there. Closing the door on the Jag, there was a loud scraping sound behind him. A couch came through the doorway. A large, dirty, dusty, musty couch of an undetermined color was mostly on the porch. Suddenly, the couch jumped forward landing vicariously with a leg on the top step. Jude came striding through the doorway after it.

“There you are.” Jude had a cobweb in his hair and dirt down the right leg of his jeans. “You’re just in time to help me heave this monstrosity.”

Just then Lucas noticed the large dumpster to the left of the house. An educated guess made that the target for the couch. If Lucas didn’t know he was coming here to work. He did now. The work out wouldn’t be later. It started without him.

As he spoke, Jude removed a pair of work gloves from the back pocket of his jeans and put them on. Lucas just kept staring at the glove with the black leather fingers sewed to the brown suede palm and thumb. Thick tan leather was used to sew the pieces together. The glove on the left hand was made entirely of the same tan suede.

The glove was unique. Who repairs a glove that way? Lucas’ mind’s eye went back to when he first saw that glove. Lucas was standing near Jude’s truck. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the driver’s door.

Jude’s effort to move the couch off the porch was met with resistance. The old boards of the porch were splintered and uneven. It didn’t budge. Jude looked over the top of the piece of furniture at Lucas. He was still leaning against the door of Jude’s truck with his arms crossed. Clearly, he wasn’t moving any time soon.

“Are you going to help me with this?” Jude started to bend down for another go anticipating help from the other end.

“Why did you pull me out?”

“What do you mean?” Jude was still trying to move the couch.

“You know what I mean.” There was steel in his voice. He stood ramrod straight with his hands opening and closing into fists, just waiting. Lucas remained silent. It wasn’t obvious if Jude would answer or not. One thing Lucas knew definitively about Jude was that he only spoke when he wanted to and when he was finished there was no coaxing more out of him. He waited. He was in no hurry. The longer the silence was drawn out, the more doubtful Lucas was of a response.

“It was something my mother said.” Jude was looking down, fixing his glove. No longer bent over, Lucas could see his face. It revealed nothing of what he was feeling or thinking.

“You mother?” Not an answer Lucas expected.

“It was the letter you found last time we were here. I finally read it.”

Lucas hadn’t thought twice about the envelope after handing it to Jude. Now, it came back to him how it was secreted in a hidden drawer of a jewelry box with everything except the words “in the event of my death” scrawled on the envelope.

“What did your mother say?” Lucas was standing at the bottom of the steps now with his hands in his pants pockets. Jude wasn’t going to get that thing to budge without help so Lucas wasn’t worried about being run over.

“Does it matter?” Jude was trying to rock the couch now.

“It matters to me.” This cat and mouse game was frustrating. It took every ounce of calm he was not feeling to stand still when he wanted to kick the couch off the porch so it would no longer have any attention. He wanted to scream ‘answer me, damn you!’ Doing so would ensure no response was forthcoming.

“Well, I guess I have your mother to thank.” There was a smile on Lucas’ face. The couch flew through the air barely missing him landing with a thud next to his foot kicking up dirt, making Lucas cough. Never underestimate Jude. That is one mistake Lucas will never repeat.

“My mother is dead.” The look in his face was one Lucas had never seen before. His tone mirrored that look. Lucas stopped smiling.

“I know. I’m sorry” was his sheepish reply.

“Of course, you know! YOU WERE THERE!”

Lucas took a step back. Actually, it was three or four steps. The venom in the words hit him like a punch to the gut. If there was any doubt in his mind that Jude was the man in black chasing him through the woods, shooting arrows at him and leading him to a deep well to be left for dead, his words dispelled any doubts.

The strength of contempt in his voice scared Lucas. For the first time in his life, Lucas was afraid of Jude. Pure hatred bore into him from two black orbs. Acrimony dripped from his words. Lucas’ heart was beating a mile a minute. His hands involuntarily balled into fists. His body was ready for fight or flight.

Before he knew what was happening, Jude was on top of him. Leaping from the porch, he landed on Lucas propelling his body ten feet back into the dirt. Jude pummeled Lucas in the ribs, first a left, then a right followed by another left. The blows just kept coming.

Lucas punched Jude in the face and head. The beating to his body continued through his assault. Finally, a right uppercut to the chin rocked Jude just enough for Lucas to push him off and reverse positions. Now, on top of Jude, Lucas released the beast within onto his assailant.

A blow to the side of his head momentarily stunned Lucas. Raising his right hand to his temple, he felt blood mixed with dirt and pieces of bark. He recovered his composure in time to see Jude standing over him, raising the thick branch for another blow to his head.

Rolling out of the way, Lucas gained his feet and grabbed a branch of his own, ready to do battle.

“The front porch has a board that squeaks. We always knew whenever someone was there before the doorbell ever rang. I ran to see who was outside and your bike was heading down the drive. That stupid flag from the firehouse on the back of your bike was waving. I know it was you. You just left me there!” He took a step towards Lucas. “I needed your help!”

“I went for help. I went to get my dad. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“But you didn’t go for help, did you? Help never came. By the time the police arrived it was too late!”

Jude was holding the knife in his hand. Threatening his father and hoping it was enough to stop him. It wasn’t. He stuck his father in his arm with the knife, just enough to draw blood. This just infuriated him more. Grabbing the knife with his right hand and gripping his son with his left, he took the knife and cut his face. He threw the knife and the boy to the ground and turned his back, dismissing them both. Jude felt the blood pouring down the side of his face. When his father’s fist started on his mother’s face again, Jude picked up the knife. Without hesitating, he drove it into his father’s body.

“I’m sorry. I went to the firehouse when I got there, they said my dad was in the hospital. He was in an accident. I rode my bike home to go to the hospital with my mom. When we got there, I remembered and told my mom what was happening at your place. I’m sorry I forgot. I wanted to get help, really, I did.” Lucas felt like that twelve-year-old boy again.

Sure, sometimes he thought about that day and wondered if things would have turned out differently if he ran into the firehouse yelling that they needed to send help. He would never know. It’s easy to look back and say if only…. then write a happy ending. Realistically, getting help sooner might not have changed a thing. There was no point in dwelling on the past. It couldn’t accomplish anything but make him feel worse than he already does.

The past is an anchor. It pulls a person down, holds him back and keeps him from moving forward.

“Your being sorry doesn’t mean anything!”

“I was just a kid.” His face looked as sheepish as his words sounded.

“I WAS JUST A KID. Maybe together we could have stopped my dad from hitting my mom. How was a thirteen-year-old boy supposed to stop a grown man fueled by alcohol and self-pity? Maybe I wouldn’t have had to kill him to stop him! Maybe, he wouldn’t have left me with this! His hand ran the length of the scar on his face, “as a permanent reminder of that day every time I look in the mirror! “Jude was walking circles in front of Lucas. He had jumped off the porch when he started accusing him. “Maybe she wouldn’t have had to die.”

Lucas had no idea Jude carried all this around with him after all this time. He never spoke of his parents or that day again as far as Lucas knew. His father tried to talk to the boy after they moved in with his family, but he remained silent. A counselor even tried to help him, but he never responded. Patiently he sat and listened to every word that was said to him and when the hour was up, he got up and left as unspoken as when he arrived. Lucas assumed he lay to rest those demons, in his own way, a long time ago.

The only other family Jude had was an uncle. He refused to give the boy a home after learning he killed his brother. Marco knew the situation. He knew the Perry’s. Everybody liked Tessa. Hell, it wasn’t a secret that Vincent beat his wife. It reached the point that he was drunk most of the time. After drinking all day, he became mean. Worried for the boy’s future; Marco gave him a home and a family.

It was a shame what happened to Vincent and Tessa but at least the boy could still have a future. Tessa did everything so her boy could have a good life. She always told him he could be anything he wanted when he grew up. She encouraged him to dream big. She didn’t sacrifice for herself. She sacrificed for him. Marco didn’t want her sacrifice to be in vain.

Lucas knew what happened that night. His father told him. Vincent Perry was in his usual drunken state after working the farm all day and went inside for dinner. Nobody knows what it was that set him off this night. Jude was never asked. He had been through so much already and did it really matter? Tessa never fought back. She raised her hands or arms to fend off his blows. Jude usually cried himself to sleep. His bond with his mother was close and unbreakable. They adored each other. They protected one another. Jude finally stood up to his father. He stepped between them and tried to stop his father. To move Jude out of his way he slapped him hard in the face. It was enough to send the boy reeling out of his path and to the ground. His mother told him not to raise his hand to her son and she slapped Vincent across the face.

This ignited his anger and he beat her with an intensity never shown before. Jude was scared for her life. He tried to pull his father off his mother. An arm came out and pushed the boy back. What else could the boy do? Hearing the front porch creaking board for a moment he was thankful that there would be help. It wouldn’t be up to him to end this. He felt defeated when he saw that flag on the back of the bike go out of view.

He did the only thing he could do. He ran to the kitchen and picked up a knife. Killing his father was not even in his thoughts. Stopping him was his main objective. Threatening him was the goal. The boy was prepared to hurt him just enough to make him stop, if it came to that. Unfortunately killing him was the only thing that made him stop hitting his wife.

She tried to hide the bruises and cuts from Jude. She knew the boy heard the blows even if he didn’t see them. The evidence of the blows didn’t need to be seen. Usually, her face was spared. Not this time. Jude never saw his mother in such a state. He held her bloody, broken body close and cried as only a boy losing his mother does.

“I don’t know what to say.” And he didn’t. It was a terrible thing that happened. It should never have happened. Lucas didn’t know what he would have done in the same situation. “All this time I never knew you felt this way. I didn’t know you carried this around with you all these years. You never said anything before now. I thought you made your peace with what happened a long time ago and was just living life.”

“Living life? No, I haven’t been living life. Do you know what it means to lose peace of mind?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He didn’t expect one. He didn’t want one. “It means every single day you wake up and you want to run as fast and as far as you can to get away from the one person you can’t stand. But it doesn’t matter how fast or how far you run you can’t get away because you’re always there and you can’t stand the person you’ve become. Losing peace of mind means you’re not living life. You’re just existing.”

Jude felt like he had to go through everything he did to finally understand what his mother meant when she said, “Don’t let my death define your life”. Her words alone were not enough. The journey had to be traveled to reach this moment of clarity here and now. The journey without her words would not have brought him to this point. He needed both.

His mother would never defend herself when her husband hit her. She would put up her hands and arms to deflect the blows, but she never fought back. That used to frustrate the young boy with his room down the hall from theirs until he cried himself to sleep. With the lights out and the covers pulled over his head, he could still hear the blows land. His mother was crying and pleading with her husband to stop hitting her. Why wouldn’t she fight back? The boy would ask the darkness where no answer was ever found. His balled-up fists would squeeze the comforter tighter as they beat on his mattress.

She would never fight back, not to protect herself. She fought back to protect the boy. The only time she raised her hand in anger to her husband was after he slapped the side of Jude’s head with his opened hand. Jude had been begging his father to stop hurting his mother.

She wouldn’t fight back to protect herself, but she wouldn’t let anyone strike her boy, not even the boy’s father. That would be the last time he ever beat his wife. That was the worst beating she ever took. That was the beating that took her life.

Throughout the years, that one-day played repeatedly in Jude’s mind. He couldn’t put it to rest if he tried.

Maybe a woman has a code to live by as well. Love unconditionally. Accept people at face value. Don’t raise your hand in anger against someone you respect. Stand by your decisions. Never back down. Choose your fate.

When Jude was eight, his teacher called his mother and told her Jude was in a fight with another boy at school. When his mother sat him down, he told her the boy called him a dirt farmer and laughed at him. The rest of the kids at recess laughed with him. Jude thought the boy was his friend! He punched him in the mouth.

His mother listened to his story and said he should never raise his hands in violence against someone respected. He immediately dismissed his mother’s words. Clearly, she didn’t understand the situation.

All those nights when the boy balled his hands into fists as he sat in his bed beating against his blankets, he kept asking himself again and again, why won’t she fight back? Why would she let someone hurt her over and over?

Now, the man understood. She loved her husband. She never lost respect for him. The violence wasn’t his nature. It was the alcohol taking control. She was standing by him trying to help him, even when he couldn’t help himself. He lost his self-respect somewhere along the way and was never able to reclaim it. His wife never lost respect for him. It was her unending hope that he would see that and start to be the man he was meant to be again.

The title is "Tomorrow Never Comes".

The genre is suspense.

The age range of the reader is 18 to 80.

The word count is 62564.

The author's name is Tari Conti.

This project is a good fit because it's not just a suspense story asking what happened to Lucas. It's about the relationship between brothers and answers the question 'what does it take for a man to find peace of mind.'

The hook is "What happened to Lucas? Where is he?

The synopsis: Lucas finishes his shift at the fire house and calls his wife, Destry that he's on his way home. He should arrive before she picks up a pizza and returns but he's not there. He doesn't come home that night or the next.

My target audience is anyone who craves a story that speaks to him or her and makes him think.

My biography: I live in New Jersey with my canary Elvis.

My platform: I can reach my audience through Linked IN, Prose and American Writers and Artists Institute.

My education: I have a bachelor's degree.

Experience: I have been writing for ten years but more so since joining Prose. I have three or four stories that I haven't finished yet.

I write narratives. Sometimes, in the first person, sometimes with framing.

My hobbies include hiking, reading, writing, drawing, watching movies and listening to music.

My hometown is Absecon, New Jersey.