Not in the Cards

June Kelley Pierce

Description

This story takes the reader along on a risk-taking journey and keeps the suspense coming. The fast-moving plot quickly reveals a tapestry of corruption and deceit that lays the groundwork for the harsh truth that winning has its consequences.
Everybody wants to get rich quick…opportunities come--even in small towns.
Jake and Ellie Taylor read about a local boy who won big and, to Jake’s surprise, soon after, he finds himself holding two golden tickets to a newly opened casino in Atlantic City, New Jersey. Atlantic City was the farthest he and Ellie had ever travelled from their small farming, town in Pennsylvania.
This story takes the reader along on their risk-taking journey in anticipation of a fun and exciting weekend. However, the glitz and glamour of the late 1950’s gambling scene is not as appealing up close and quickly reveals a tapestry of corruption and deceit. This couple learns that winning is sometimes a losing game.

Sujets

• Veterans
• Thrillers
• Veteran
• Atlantic City, New Jersey
• Gambling
• Jersey Shore
• Organized Crime
• Suspense
• Atlantic City
• Corruption
• Blackjack
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: iUniverse
• Date de parution: 09 février 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781663249135
• Langue: English

Extrait

NOT IN THE CARDS
JUNE KELLEY PIERCE


NOT IN THE CARDS
 
 
Copyright © 2023 June Kelley Pierce.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
Certain characters in this work are historical figures, and certain events portrayed did take place. However, this is a work of fiction. All of the other characters, names, and events as well as all places, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
 
 
 
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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
ISBN: 978-1-6632-4912-8 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6632-4914-2 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-6632-4913-5 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022923130
 
 
 
iUniverse rev. date:  02/06/2023


J ake Taylor was the All-American Football player in 1960 at Bremerton High School in Pennsylvania. The Bremerton Eagles were a force to contend with.
He was a lanky, strong young man with blon de hair and hazel eyes—every girl’s heartthrob. Jake stood six foot four, and, boy, could he throw a ball and run—better than anyone the coach had seen in all his years of coaching.
A high school game brought the whole town out to cheer, to slap him on the back and even vocalize a dream or two for him. It was their hope he would make it to the big leagues and be famous one day and put Bremerton on the map!
Jake came from a patriotic family where a long line of great grandfathers, Uncles, and Fathers had joined the military or had been drafted, and some were eaten up by the ravages of war, soon after. Then, there were the few who were lucky enough to come home at the end of the war, and Jake’s father was one of them. The war always takes something from you though, and in the Taylor household it had diminished his Dad’s spirit. What the community remembered most was that there were eighty brave men from Bremerton who joined up and only twenty who had returned whole. Jake always felt proud of this and never felt it was luck—his father was a fighter, and it was that underlying feeling that made him want to fall in line with the town men who were proudly revered. He had been thinking about it for months and, although he knew he was well sought after by the colleges to play college football, Jake already had made up his mind. What he dreaded most was disappointing so many folks, who were rooting for him.
Three weeks out of high school, Jake enlisted without breathing a word to his parents. He knew they had wanted more for him, but he felt compelled to follow in his father’s footsteps and make his own mark as a soldier. Once he explained his feelings, they understood his strong commitment. They knew his talent and opportunity would not be long-standing. Nonetheless, he seemed happy, and that made them happy for him.
Right out of boot camp, Jake was transferred to an aircraft carrier, The Majestic, and his excitement grew. He might see the world just as his recruiter had told him and even make a career out of the service.
“It won’t cost you a dime—just sign on the dotted line and go to college for free.”
It seemed like a life-time plan. When Jake returned home, he’d still be a good football player and be able to entertain both dreams, he thought. He’d wanted to be a college All-Star since seventh grade and practiced all the time. Now it seemed that both dreams were butting heads, and he wanted to make his parents proud. That dream took precedence, and Jake went for it.
The world stopped when Jake’s ship caught fire and exploded, and he was reported missing. No one knew for weeks that he’d been picked up by a local fisherman, hanging off a piece of the aircraft carrier. Jake was barely alive when he was spotted along with three other survivors close to the coast. It was touch and go whether he would make it or not. Jake was unconscious for a week and, when he gained consciousness, he had no memory at all of who he was or why he was there. His leg was bandaged, and he was unable to move it. He had severe burns on one foot from the blast on the ship. It had killed 80 of his mates on the carrier and only a few survived.
More fortunate than they had been on many levels, he had no broken bones, gashes or upper body burns. The other two survivors were not so lucky, and one, he had learned was unrecognizable. The poor guy, also nineteen, could be heard down the hallway, screaming and praying to die. Jake thought that if it had been him, he’d be doing the same thing.
It took several months for his memory to come back in bits and pieces and, when it finally did, he contacted his parents. It would be a long journey back to a life he was familiar with. When he was finally able to call and his parents heard his voice, they were so happy and couldn’t believe it.
There were long nights and horrors of the explosion that visited him in his sleep. Dead soldiers came up from dark water and floated in his face, burned beyond recognition. Night sweats and screams for help didn’t leave him, as his guilt swelled in his psyche. He had come back when so many others never would. He walked in his dreams like the walking dead without joy or feeling. This had become a nightly ritual, and Jake hated to close his eyes to witness one more episode. He became more and more depressed and gaining his memory meant nothing to him. He no longer wanted to live.
The physicians were worried that he might be suicidal, so he was transferred to an airbase and hospital in Virginia and, after two weeks, was visited by Father Whittaker, who came into his life unexpectedly. He was a gray-haired, soft-spoken man, who looked more like a nursing attendant than a chaplain. He said few words at first but came consistently each day at the same time to Jake’s room for their daily chat. He would typically take Jake to the Day Room and afterward for a small walk in the hospital garden. As their visits continued, Jake began to share more and more. Father Whittaker was not intrusive with his questions, but he always made Jake think about gratitude and joy without hardly ever saying the words. Their conversations were often based on that premise. Jake soon looked forward to his visits and began to replace parts of his dreams with reality, leaving the horrors and the macabre behind. Once it began to work, Jake tried everything Father Whittaker suggested and began to be more open in their conversations. Jake had not noticed that there was a kind of hypnosis that was meditative at first, and then, over time, when Father Whittaker would leave, Jake began to feel at peace, looking forward to their next visit.
One day, during one of their walks in the garden, Jake said, out of the blue, “I think I’m ready to go home for a visit—whattya you think?” he said, looking for affirmation.
Father Whittaker smiled and said, “I think now is a good time—no more nightmares?”
“No, not a one. I’ve been healing, little by little thanks to you, and I am very grateful to you. I want you to know that I’m going to make the most of it!” Jake said earnestly.
“Well, that’s wonderful, Jake. You have a whole life to live and, yes, you have much to be grateful for. I’m glad I could help. Take good care of yourself and if you need me, I’ll leave my number at the desk. Good luck, young Man! I’ve also enjoyed our time together.”
They hugged like a father and son would as they departed.
It would be several more weeks before Jake could walk without help of any kind. He appealed to his Sergeant, hopeful of returning to duty. As he relayed that, his memory had been fully restored, and the sergeant could see how hopeful he was.
“I think it’s a good plan to go and visit your parents. You’ve worked hard in your recovery but, in all honesty, son, I cannot send you back overseas again.”
It was such a shock and disappointment that Jake went completely pale, and he was speechless for a few moments.
“I won’t be able to serve again, Sir?” he asked at long last. Jake wanted to question it further, but his questions were answered.
“Your head injury and memory loss were severe, Jake, and the doctor has reported that a second blow to the head might end your life or erase your memory for good.
“Uncle Sam doesn’t want to take that chance and neither do I.” This did not stop Jake from questioning, and, with each Lieutenant he encountered, he would ask again—only to hear the same answer.
“No, Son, you can’t stay on. It’s commendable, but it’s time for you to go home.”
“But Sir… I don’t feel I’ve served my country.”
“Young man, I’m sure you realize how fortunate you are to be alive and well. Go home—you’ve done your part. That’ll be all.” The sergeant dismissed him, and Jake stood in a salute as his superior had given the last word on the subject. Jake had no other recourse but acceptance.
Seeing the damage that war had done to so many young men while in the hospital, Jake soon became very grateful for his slight limp. He had never been particularly re