A SEAL at Heart (17 page)

“We’ve been ordered not to discuss the Op with you, Jack. And, we won’t.” Pickens’s voice was low and hard. Under his breath, he muttered, “Fucking West Coast do-gooder.”

“What?” Jack took a step toward Pickens. Seeley blocked him. There were other ways to skin a goat, and he wasn’t going to let someone ruin his good reputation or peddle some other nonsense without a face-to-face discussion. “Would you like to repeat that?”

“Why don’t you just let it blow over?” spoke Pickens through gritted teeth. “The report will go through, because you can’t remember, and the whole thing will go away. Just ride it out, Jack.”

“Because whatever this is about, you’re doing it at my expense, Pickens, and the rest of the Team. We don’t work that way. Courage, honor, duty… or have you stashed your values in your duffel?” Jack knew he was taunting him. He was prepared to go a lot further, too.

“Shut the fuck up, Croaker. Red Jack, the fucking Boy Scout!” Pickens stepped toward Jack and Seeley was mashed between the two of them. As he spoke, his spit hit Seeley’s shoulder and sprayed Jack’s face. “Everything’s landed on you. Fucking own the situation and move on with it.”

“Yo! Take it easy guys. There was so much gunfire—all that ammo we laid down, and there was smoke and dust. Combat can affect your memory, Jack.” Seeley was rattling on, trying to smooth things over. There was not enough camouflage makeup in the world to cover this up. “Besides, with the light from the boxes…”

“What light? There was dust everywhere in that factory.” A puzzle piece was falling into place. If there was light near the boxes, either a Team member had walked over there or someone else was in that building. This clue could help him, or maybe it was a red herring.

“Shut up!” said Pickens, stepping closer and getting in Seeley’s face. He glared at Seeley and murmured, “Stop helping. Just get the fuck out of this.”

Jack turned his head to the side like a dog examining something from a new angle, and he saw one. Seeley was the weak link and Pickens was the linchpin.

The new information made him feel more in control; Seeley would continue to spill the beans. He just needed to get the man alone and ask the right questions. “What gunfire are you referring to? The place was a ghost town. Just precisely who were you guys shooting?”

Pickens’s eyes were angry, and his jaw clenched. He opened and then closed his mouth. “Fuck off, Jack, there’s nothing here. Got it? Just get lost, before you—”

“Before I what? Get hurt? Wait, I did.” Jack rubbed his chin. “I get it. You think I have something else to lose besides my swim buddy. Nope, that was it. Everything that was important to me stood next to me during that Op.” It was clear to him that two of his brethren had sold him out for something and Don had died at the expense of whatever those two guys had valued more. Problem was, he couldn’t prove a damn thing. Yet.

He stared each one in the eye and then he left. As he made his way to his Jeep, Jack could feel the heat of their eyes on his back. He wished he knew every detail of what they said. If there was a hearing and he was brought up on formal charges, he’d hear every detail—that was certain. Until then, everyone was keeping a tight lip.

Nearing his vehicle, he could see them reflected in the driver’s side mirror. They were arguing and Seeley looked like he was getting slammed.

“The truth always rises, in the same way the sun always sets,” Gich was known to say. Come hell or high water, Jack was going to make sure everything came out.

Getting in his Jeep, he fastened his seat belt, turned the key, and pulled noisily out of the lot. He powered up the Bluetooth and called Laurie. Her voice mail picked up. She must have been in session.

He decided to leave a message. “Hi, Laurie. It’s me. Call when you can. I have some rather interesting information to share with you.” Another call was coming in, so he ended his message and picked up the incoming call.

“Roaker,” said his XO. “Get your ass to my office ASAP.”

Kill one, terrify a thousand.

—Sun Tzu

Jack pulled into an empty parking space in front of the SEAL Team ONE Quarterdeck. He jumped out of the Jeep and double-timed his step until he was at the XO’s door. He knocked and waited.

The hallway was bustling with activity and his nerves rattled a little.

“Enter,” barked XO James “Chick” Stockton through the closed door. He had gone through BUD/S training being called Chicken Stock, and the “Chick” part stuck. He was in the process of growing a beard for an upcoming deployment and looked like a plucked bird with feathers sticking out in places.

Jack took a deep breath, let it out, and then turned the knob. Hot air pummeled his face. The XO hated air conditioners and kept the place as warm as a stove. “Jack, take a seat.”

The XO was using his first name. That made him nervous, but it set the stage for things to be a bit less formal—not that SEALs stood on formality. “Listen, I didn’t call you in to bust your chops. I want to know what you remember now from the Op.”

“Quite a bit, Chick.” Jack related the whole story as far as he knew it, with every bit of sensory detail he could remember and highlighted the areas where the holes still remained. “I know I’m close to finding out the rest of it, too. I just need a little more time.”

The XO nodded his head. “Good job, Jack. You’re on track, that’s good. It’s a luxury—medical leave—that needs to be short-lived. Understood?” He cleared his throat. “Not that you’re hearing this from me.”

“Yeah, Chick, I get it.”

“Good. Um, there’s one other thing. An issue about how you’re going about finding your answers…”

That pussy Doc Johnson must have contacted the XO. “Chick, did you get a call?”

“Yes, from a, uh…” The XO looked at his desk, and said, “Dr. Derek Johnson.”

That fucking, pompous paper pusher! “Chick…”

Holding up his hand, the XO said, “Hear me out, Jack. The regulations are straightforward. A civilian cannot treat military personnel when national security matters are at stake. Since a formal complaint has been registered by Dr. Johnson, I have to ask you not to see this therapist again in that manner.”

“Permission to speak freely, Chick.” Jack’s words were clipped. He was fighting a wellspring of emotion at the thought of not being able to see or speak to Laurie again. He was so close to the truth.

Waving his hand, the XO replied, “Dammit Jack! We’re alone. When have SEALs ever stood on ceremony? You’re the damned formalist jackass around here. Speak!”

“Thanks. This isn’t some Army doctor. Laurie, she’s a physical therapist, a woman who has accomplished more in just a couple of sessions than the whole damn team at Balboa has done since I got back here. Top that off with the fact that she’s the daughter of a SEAL and grew up in this community. It’s not like I’m talking to some fucking
stranger
, Chick.” The words flew out of his mouth at rapid-fire speed. “I can’t disengage, not see her again. This is my best opportunity to learn what really happened.”

The XO shook his head. He lifted up a document and held it so Jack could see it. “Stop. I didn’t hear it. This is a copy of the formal complaint added to your file, about your visits with a civilian. I printed it out, because I knew you’d have to see it to get it through your thick skull. I
have
to order you not see her. I have no choice, Jack.” The XO studied him. “Johnson, he’s an insecure asshole, I get it. There will be repercussions for you and for her if there is any contact. So, say you understand, and get the hell out of here.”

Picking up his pen, he looked at the paperwork on his desk. “Jack, a SEAL psychoanalyst will be back from deployment in nine weeks. You could take it up with him then, if you’d rather wait.”

“That’s a long fucking time.” The wind had gone out of his sails. Jack didn’t know what to say.

“Yes, it is. The issue will have to be dealt with before then. By my estimation you have about seven and half weeks left to get to the truth.” The XO dropped the sheet of paper and it landed without ceremony on his desk. “You’ve heard me. I see your head nodding. Good. Now, get out and go do what you have to do to heal.”

Damn
headshrinker.
“Chick!” said Jack, his eyes held the XO’s gaze as he tried to convene the pain this would cause him… losing Laurie.

“Please…” Inside, Jack was panicking. He needed her. She was healing him—his mind and his heart. His chest tightened.

The XO sighed as he put the page back with the rest and shut the folder that obviously documented Jack’s military career.

They stared at each other.

Finally, Jack turned away from the XO’s desk. He hadn’t been dismissed, so he turned back around. Unlike Don, who had disobeyed practically every command, Jack had never disobeyed an order in his life. But the thought of never seeing Laurie again was like being gutted.

The XO studied him and then said, “Dismissed.”

Jack turned and left. Salutes were not big in the Teams, and unless it was a formal occasion or a sign of respect to someone important, they just didn’t happen often. The Teams were a giant equalizer where everybody got dirty, including the officers. That’s why SEAL Teams worked so well: everyone trained together and operated together as one unit, one arm, and one force.

Today, though, Jack felt like a man on the outside of everything. He wanted back into the action—to be put in play—but nothing was going to change until he could fill in the blanks. Without Laurie, he didn’t stand a chance.

He walked straight to his car. He opened the door and reached underneath.

Unlocking a combination box secreted under his front seat, he withdrew his gun case. More than anything, he needed to think. As he headed to the shooting range, he knew that he’d have to come up with some way to find the answers. Without Laurie’s body alongside his or her guiding hand, he didn’t know where to begin.

His phone beeped. A text message scrolled through:
Group therapy on Tuesday.

A phone call came fast on the heels of the text. It was Laurie. He needed to tell her that he couldn’t see her professionally or personally for a while. There was no boundary between the two roles right now, and he didn’t trust himself to keep his shit on one side or the other. The cell phone in his hand was his work line and it would register that he had taken her call.

His throat tightened. Christ, he wanted to hear her voice. But if he never spoke the hated words, then maybe there would be some chance in the near future. Better to leave it alone for now.

He closed his eyes, unwilling to think of a life without her. Silently, he prayed for the first time since he was a little boy. He didn’t know if it would help, but he couldn’t imagine it would hurt.

Another text shot into his phone. A picture of Laurie’s face all squished up as if she were kissing him. He couldn’t stop himself from saving the photo to his phone and sending a copy to his computer. “Fuck! What am I doing?”

Pushing a button, he deleted the photo from his phone. Inside, he knew the image was seared on his brain.

Large dark clouds sped across the sky, blocking out the sunlight. Birds landed on the ground, tucking themselves next to large buildings. Planes zoomed overhead aiming for North Island, and they appeared to be going faster than usual. A storm was coming in and it would be here quickly.

Drops of rain landed on his hands and face—first a few, and then the skies opened up, sending down a deluge. Had to love this time of year.

Jack yanked up the soft top and secured it to the frame.

The rain had already poured inside, soaking the seats. It would dry, and yet it seemed so unimportant compared to what was happening to him. His main concern was… Laurie.

What would she do when he followed orders and just disappeared? Would she miss him? Would she hate him? Would she ever be able to forgive him? Thinking about her reaction made his emotions spike.

If
only
I
could
tell
you… what you mean to me. I fucked up big time, and I don’t know how to fix it.

Instead, he would be the Navy SEAL jerk who
never
called her back, and he didn’t even have an Op as an excuse for the lack of contact.

I don’t mind being called tough, since I find in this racket it’s the tough guys who lead the survivors.

—Colonel Curtis LeMay

The morning had been extraordinarily dull. Sunbeams streaked in her window one moment and then were gone the next.

Wednesday—the hump day of the week—usually progressed at a snail’s pace, but today seemed even slower and more fraught with frustration. With only two appointments on the log, Laurie knew she should have done something to fill her time: taken a spin class, gone grocery shopping, anything but sit around, staring at the computer.

Lately, she felt miserable. There were very few things that could make her smile.

Scrolling through her cybercalendar, Laurie checked today’s date for the twentieth time. Over six weeks had passed without any word from Jack. Having run the gamut from rage to worry and then back again had been tough on her psyche.

She’d left ten voice mails and had sent him more text messages than was actually attractive, but she knew she had good reason. The last time she saw Jack, they had planned on speaking within hours of his meeting with the therapist. He had been so gung ho on having another session that he made her promise to keep time in her schedule for him.

Now, here she was, still waiting for any word from him and worried as hell! “The man is on medical leave. There is no reason for him not to get back to me ASAP.” Her words sounded flat in the empty therapy room. She wished she had giant windows to throw open and let the sunshine in. The subdued lighting and lack of something to concentrate on was eating away at her tiny amount of forced harmony.

With over three hours until her next two appointments, the only tasks at hand—that she could do in here—were pacing the confines of this space and worrying about what was happening to Jack. Anything else she could think of—organizing receipts for taxes, organizing her notes, updating all the files, getting a manicure and pedicure—had already been attended to.

Images of her dad kept invading her mind. They wove into the questions she had about Jack until her brain felt like it would explode. Was this why she’d never wanted to date anyone from the military? Being shut out was hard to take.

She asked herself the scariest question aloud. “Is he a player, like Dad?” She didn’t believe it. Couldn’t face it, even as a possibility. Yet the idea of having committed so much of herself to him made her stomach do flips. Falling for him had been almost unavoidable. One minute she had decided to keep her distance, and then Jack was there—making love to her in the shower, toweling her dry, and cooking for her, even bringing her breakfast in bed.

How could she deny this man who rained attention on her?

Jack couldn’t be… a man like her father…

Running for the bathroom, she threw open the door, flipped on the light, and made it just in time as the bile rose up her throat and exploded out of her mouth.

As quickly as the feeling came, it left.

Leaning her forehead against the cool porcelain, she was relieved that the pressure in her stomach was gone. Expelling made her feel slightly better physically, but confirmed something she could not deny any longer.

Priorities first. Unable to stand the taste in her mouth, she pushed herself to her feet, went to the sink, and splashed cold water on her face. Then she swished with mouthwash and brushed her teeth.

Staring in the mirror, she thought she looked pale. There were dark circles under her eyes and her neck was splotchy. The necklace she used to wear all the time sat on the edge of her sink. Twisting it at least a hundred times—like worry beads—had given her small bumps on her neck. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry that they looked like the hickeys Jack was notorious for leaving on her body.

“You’ve looked better, doll.” Patting her cheeks, she raised a little color and then added a few layers of lip gloss. The pampering helped her self-esteem, so she pulled out her makeup bag and went to work: mascara, eye shadow, bronzer, a dash of blush, and a double dollop of under-eye cover-up.

Pleased with her appearance, she reseated herself in front of the computer and logged in to the calendar program again. She selected the two-month display and counted the days again.

“I’m pregnant!”
Holy
moley! No fucking way! No, no, no.
“It can’t be. This is just nerves. I’ve made myself sick from emotional fantasizing. The lack of closure on this situation is making me loopy.” She took a deep breath.

Cradling her head in her hands, she closed her eyes and wept, trying to force all of the pent-up stress out of her system in one tear-filled session.

Maybe she should go out—kayak, swim, bike, or hike, anything to keep her mind from wandering. When the sobbing finally ran its course, she looked up, staring blankly at the computer screen in front of her as she backtracked through her memory files. “When did we have unprotected sex? We didn’t. We couldn’t have. Did a condom break and we didn’t know it?” she murmured to herself.

Her chin bumped her knuckles, sending a shimmer of pain up her jaw and focusing her mind. The only time she could think of was… after the incident in the parking lot between Gich and Jack, where she had been inadvertently struck in the jaw. She and Jack had gone back to his place. She’d been consumed by the pain in her jaw—okay, and by her libido, too, as well as seeing his space for the first time. She groaned. The Vicodin.

Crap, crap, crap!
If it were true, then they were both at fault here and there could be no finger-pointing.

“Please don’t let it be true. I’m not ready.” The words hung in the air as if it were something she could swat away.

She picked up her phone and scheduled an appointment with her gynecologist. “We’re not living in the Dark Ages. Rather than buy a hundred tests and freak myself out as they register either a plus or minus, I can be a smart soul and know for sure.”

Having made a grown-up decision to deal with the issue, she felt moderately better—more in control. Logging off her calendar program, she shut down her computer, grabbed her purse and keys, and headed out of the office. Nothing could keep her in this room for three hours if she didn’t need to be there.

Opening the door to her waiting room, she poked her head out. “Frannie, I’ll be back in time for the three p.m. I’m going to run a few errands. I’ll just sneak out through the back door.”

“Oh, Laurie. Right. Before you go, uh, Mr. Foster and Miss Hennessey canceled for this afternoon. Your schedule is completely clear. They both booked double sessions for next week.” Frannie smiled at her. “You can go now, dear. Since we don’t have anything scheduled, I’m going to take the rest of the afternoon off.”

“You’re leaving early?” Laurie was baffled. She stepped into the room.

“Yes, dear. Unless you have additional work.” Frannie batted her eyes and waited for Laurie’s response.

“Uh, no. You can go. Uh, Frannie.” Laurie needed more details. She hated to cross-examine the woman but the cancellations sounded suspicious. “Did they cancel or did you call and reschedule them?”

Her assistant sniffed and then turned around and began straightening her desk. She didn’t speak right away, paying enormous attention to her tasks. After she turned off her computer and retrieved her purse from the bottom drawer, Frannie stood and faced her. “I rescheduled them. These walls are thinner than you think, and sometimes a physical therapist needs some time off, too. I may not be a healthcare provider, but I work for one. I’ve learned a lot from you.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” replied Laurie after she’d figuratively pulled her chin off the floor.

“Well, you can fire me if you’d like. You know that I am very discreet, but I’m partial to you—been with you since you opened, and I plan on coming to work every day until they lay me in the ground. Unless you feel I need to be fired for my actions.” Frannie stood her ground, willing to take the consequences either way. It was hard not to admire a woman with such guts.

“Do you hear the clients when they are on the table or in the chair as they discuss their personal issues?” asked Laurie. “I’d really need to do something about the sound.”

“Of course not! When you have them sitting, I can barely hear a murmur, though occasionally I hear a scream or groan. Your desk is just on the other side of the door and, well, you’re like a daughter to me, or a younger sister.” Pointing her index finger in Laurie’s direction, Frannie said, “When my boss is pacing up and down the room, slamming books, bolting for the bathroom, and worrying aloud about being pregnant, I can certainly be enough of a friend and assistant to make sure she gets what she needs. Understood?”

Shock riveted Laurie to the spot. Nodding her head in a bit of a stupor, unaware that anyone else knew of her dilemma, she finally found her voice and replied, “Thank you, Frannie. Next time, though, please let me make the choice, okay?”

“Sure thing,” said Frannie with a wink and a big smile. Approaching Laurie with wide-open arms, she hugged tightly, holding on too long. The air felt like it had been squeezed out of Laurie’s body, but that sweet, tender Frannie smile was on the woman’s face when they pulled apart. “If you’re inclined, I’d like to know the outcome. You got me! I’m here either way, and I love little ones. I can bottle-feed and burp with the best of them, as well as answer phones.” With that said, Frannie trundled out of the office, locking the front door behind her.

The knot in Laurie’s throat was too big to swallow. She wanted to sit down on the couch and cry, but she had spent too much time doing that recently. Now was a time for action, and Laurie Smith was on the move.

Determined, with car keys and purse clenched in her hand, she headed back through her office and into her apartment and exited through the rear of her office/home. Getting in her car, she headed for the ultimate joy, one she knew would bring her comfort.

She sped along Rosecrans Street and onto the I-5 freeway. The best spot in the whole world was Gator Beach, with one pit stop along the way for an ice cream from MooTime Creamery.

***

A triple-decker ice cream in a waffle cone, loaded with all the candy fixings, was exactly what she needed on a hot November day. While the rest of the world was plunging into winter, Coronado residents were still enjoying a relaxing autumn heat.

Deciding to stroll along Orange Avenue, it occurred to her that leaving her wallet in the car might stop her from impulse buying. Whenever she was in a heightened emotional state, there was a temptation to buy everything she could get her hands on to comfort herself. The best control technique was leaving the plastic—her credit cards—where she couldn’t reach them. Stopping at her car, she stashed her purse in the trunk and pocketed her keys with a smile.

Ready for her relaxing walk with her luscious treat, Laurie strolled. Pausing at the bookstore, she noticed the display of new romance novels and mysteries. If the store had allowed ice cream, she would have been in there instantly, making a stack for her TBR—to be read—pile. But the sugar was providing so much comfort right now, she thought, she’d swing by the car and grab her purse and then stop in there on the way back. So much for willpower and good shopping techniques…

Hey, books are food!
she told herself.
I
can
spend
money
on
them.
Grinning, she knew novels would always be the only exception to her purchasing rules.

Her eyes caught a rather extraordinary display in the far window. The sign read Baby’s First Books. Many of the stories had been ones her mother had picked out for her, before she was born. Several of them had helped her learn to read. Precious memories teased her mind, bringing her overwhelming feelings of security and joy.

A hand went to her belly, and for the first time she consciously considered what it would be like to have a baby. Could she be a mom? She waited for the panic of uncertainty to set in, but none of it came. Instead, there was a calm that permeated her system—a sense of well-being and capability. Her whole life, she’d been around kids and babies and was always comfortable with them. Next was the realization and understanding that she could really do this—be a mom.

Seeing the reflection of herself in the window—one hand on her belly and the other holding an ice cream cone—she contemplated how she would look pregnant. She smiled. “I’ll be beautiful.”

“You already are! Very sexy, too,” said the coffee guy as he strode by her and into his little booth, positioned less than five feet away. “How about a date? Or would you like something to drink?”

Heat rose in her cheeks. She knew she was blushing. “No. Thanks. I’m good.”

She knew he had just been flirting, but it was kind of sweet. Nice to know she was still desirable. Continuing her stroll down Orange Avenue, she passed the Mexican restaurant with wonderful garlic and onion smells coming from inside. Next to that was a tourist shop selling Coronado and Life Is Good T-shirts.

Women dressed in workout clothes, pushing babies in strollers, passed by her, and she realized she was suddenly seeing children everywhere.

As she crossed the street, she heard laughter coming from McP’s.
Maybe
I’ll visit Greg. I haven’t seen him in months.
Oh, they have delicious potato skins, too.

“It was too fucking funny!” That voice! Was that Jack?

Her steps quickened, drawing her closer. Scanning the faces, her eyes found him before she fully believed it was actually he.
Yes! It’s Jack! He’s alive!
And he was sitting at a table in the McP’s courtyard, surrounded by women. The bastard was perfectly and absolutely fine.

That
motherfucking
jackass! I’m going to kill him!

Without realizing exactly what she was going to do, she parted the bevy of cackling women and walked right up to him. Jack Roaker stared at her as if a demon had just materialized.

Everyone was dead still as they stared at her. “Excuse us,” she said to the women.