A SEAL at Heart (9 page)

His voice sounded strained, as if he spoke through a mountain of pain. “At the time, I was a child and had only that perspective. I couldn’t understand why my father wasn’t there or why my mother found it painful to hold me. I was devastated when she died. I was angry at everyone and everything that crossed my path.” He coughed and then she watched him breathe slowly, drawing in the fresh ocean air. “My father died six months after my mother, from a stroke. He was only forty-one. I never got to know him. So much of that year is this red haze of uncertainty.”

He took her hand in his. “That is… until my grandfather brought me home. He taught me normal things that parents teach kids—coping skills, honor, courage, values to be proud of, and the ability to have faith in myself and achieve. After I finished high school, he passed, too.”
Crap! That fucking hurt, talking about Granddad!
“I have cousins on my mom’s side. We’ve never been close.”

“What was your grandfather like?”

“Old, crotchety, funny, fair, and kind. Every day, I learned more about him and grew to respect him even more. It was a rocky beginning, but I grew to understand him.” He rubbed his eyes. “He was a Navy veteran. I miss him. Damn, I haven’t thought about him for ages.

“I’m done.” He squeezed her. “Your turn in the hot seat. What about you? Tell me more about your life.”

The words tumbled quickly from her mouth, as if she had said them a million times before. “My mother died giving birth to me. Neither of my folks had any living relatives, so I was passed around from Team house to Team house when my dad was deployed. For the longest time, I believed I was related to everyone. In a way, I was and still am.”

“There’s more there. Spill it.”

She sighed. “I learned to keep my emotions to myself. To take care and share my basic needs, like food, clothing, et cetera, but to hide what bothered me and deal with it on my own terms. No one wants a child with problems. If I was happy, then I could hide behind the smile and let my mask speak for me.”

“Laurie, you know you can share with me, right?” He was so supportive. His voice with those honeyed tones eased through her defenses.

She shrugged. None of what he had said meant that she would tell him right now. Though it was precious he had been so forthcoming and open. Never in her life had she spoken her secret aloud; in many ways, she knew she must actually trust him.

“Okay, enough grilling. Tell me something funny.”

A smile grew slowly on her lips—that, she could do. “Did you know Gich gave me my first beer? I was four years old. He said, ‘If Laurie can open it, she can drink it.’ So, I did. It astonished everyone, and then after five gulps, I threw up on him. He’s never let me forget it, either.”

“Four! That’s crazy young.”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “He made a lot of mistakes with me, but I had him and he had me. Having someone is all that matters, you know?”

“I never really thought of it that way. I suppose it could be true.”

She pinched him.

“Ouch!”

“Just like a SEAL to be noncommittal. You’ve lost me now! I’m going for a swim.” She was up in a flash, peeling her clothes off. “There are advantages to living on the water. Skinny-dipping in the dark.”

“You’re not going anywhere without me,” he replied, leaping off the lounger and chasing her to the edge of the patio.

“God, I love this place.”

She assumed that Jack meant the best part of the whole building was her inviting garden. Filled with orange and lemon trees, roses, and other beautiful flowers, this was a place tended with a great amount of loving attention. Laurie had tried to stay in tune with the needs of the foliage, but it didn’t look like she had much of a green thumb. A few weeds that looked pretty were sneaking through and choking some of the plants. She’d have to deal with that at some point.

“It’s really great out here. Did you do all of this?” he asked as she perched on the short wall, preparing to slip over to the other side and into the ocean.

“No. The former owners planted everything. I do the best I can to keep it maintained, though Gich comes by now and then. He truly has a green thumb.” She stretched, letting the moonlight bathe her bare skin.

“This is terrific.”

“Yeah, I really lucked out when this place opened up. John Hatchett used to own this place. His wife had a small craft store up front. When she died, he wanted to buy an RV and travel the country. Gich told me about it, and we made a deal on the spot.” She waved her arms around in a circle. “I’m sure I got the better deal.”

“What happened to Hatchett?”

“According to Gich, Hatchett bought the camper, drove to Virginia, where his wife was born, and scattered the ashes in a field of daisies where she’d played as a child. Then he settled in a rental only a few miles from the spot. He passed within six months of her. I heard his neighbors sprinkled him in the same place. He must have loved her very much,” she said wistfully. Did all women want to find a man who would love them that much? Would he be able to do it? Would the idea make him uncomfortable?

“I’m sure he was just as happy with the deal.” Slowly, he walked toward her. “The community is good that way. I’ve seen it. We take care of our own.”

She watched his movements; he seemed ready to play. She still wanted to talk, because there was a lot she wanted to know. “Yeah. Speaking of which, I never hear you talk about your Teammates… what’s up with that? I remember my dad and Gich talking almost nonstop about their Team, especially when Ops went sideways.” Her blunt comment stopped him in his tracks. She studied his face, the angles looking somehow more shallow and sharp.

“Things aren’t that easy right now. When it first happened, when I took some shrapnel to the head, I spent most of my time in ICU. I tried to go see a couple of the guys, but they were bounced around to different places. Couple of them won’t answer my texts, but I’ve heard from one or two. Nothing major. Just stuff like ‘Hey, you’re alive!’ and shit like that.” He shrugged. “The guys know I want to touch base. They’ll connect when it works. In the meantime, everyone’s walking around on eggshells with me. The doctors chat the tough-love line—be in therapy or you won’t go operational again. That group crap doesn’t work for me. I’m not great at opening up to strangers.”

“Am I a stranger?” Laurie looked from beneath her lashes, intentionally flirting with him, attempting to ease the tough topic.

“Not unless you let all your patients chat from between the sheets.” The corners of his mouth turned up and slowly, lazily, pulled into a smile. His pupils were large and dark. In the moonlight he was such a handsome rogue. She knew his teasing was a sign of respect and adoration; it was how SEALs communicated. She could handle him and actually liked the banter, too. “I’m going in,” he announced.

“Don’t get lost. I can lend you some floaties, if you’d like them for your arms. Or maybe you’d like a life vest.” She watched him turn away, hop over the short wall, and run into the water, changing into a dive at the last moment.

As he emerged on the surface, he shouted, “Wiseass!”

“Ready or not, here I come,” she yelled with a laugh. Then she jumped the two-foot wall and felt the sand squish between her toes as she hurried down the tiny wedge of beach. When she reached the water’s edge, her steps slowed as she made her way forward into the gentle waves.

The water was warm from the heat of the sun. Walking into the ocean always stripped away her concerns and worries, as if there was only room for the sensation, and she relished those first baptizing steps.

“Mmmm,” she murmured. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her every movement. She didn’t care. She was in no hurry, now that the waves were lapping her skin.

Too soon, only her head was above the surface. Her body relaxed in stages as the salt water enveloped her, a familiarity that eased her even as it surrounded her in buoyant bliss. The ocean definitely held a healing magic.

Pushing off from the sandy bottom, she swam. She spread her arms wide and drew the water under her until her flawless breaststroke had her moving quickly and silently. Her eyes sought his—Jack, her macho tough guy—and he was coming toward her, joining her in the darker recesses.

He caught her to him. His arms wrapped tightly around her, drawing her body against his. Their wet bodies slid along each other. He kissed her, dragging her farther into the depths of the ocean, away from land.

“Let’s explore,” he murmured in her ear.

Kissing his ear, she replied, “Yes.”

His hands held her close as he rolled onto his back. She balanced on top of him now, like a queen riding a dolphin. Still, he swam, keeping her perfectly balanced.

She ran her fingers down his chest and watched him shiver.

His eyes were almost black in the darkness, but she could see the glint of mischief.

Spying the bank on the far shore, she knew he was going to a small alcove where they could make love. It was perfect.

Jack was a puzzle, one she enjoyed. But how prepared was she to accompany him into the unknown? More willing than she realized…

All right, they’re on our left, they’re on our right, they’re in front of us, they’re behind us… they can’t get away this time.

—Lewis B. “Chesty” Puller

Jack woke with a start. Standing next to the courtyard door, he had both hands on the door frame and his body was covered in sweat. His muscles were tense and his body was ready to fight or flee.

“Jack, can you hear me?” Laurie’s voice came to him from afar as if she were shouting down a tunnel. The tone, with its beckoning sweetness, lured him.

Mentally, he drew himself toward her, bringing himself closer and closer until her voice was clear. Turning to her, he sucked in a deep breath and tried to get it together.

He shook himself. His eyes were wide and it took a few seconds for the images in his head to reconcile with the reality around him. Lowering his arms, he turned and looked at her.

Patient. Quiet. And with a look of concern that filled her eyes.

He walked over to the bed and pulled her into his arms. He couldn’t find his voice, not yet. The visuals were bombarding him, and he couldn’t make sense of it all yet.

“I’m here,” she whispered, wrapping her arms tighter.

He nodded. Stroking her hair, he held her for a time.

Then he looked over her shoulder at his hands. The place he had to see. Relief eased through him. His fingers were clean. In his mind—in those raw images—he had seen them covered in blood. His best friend’s blood.

“Hey, answer me, Jack. Are you with me?” She prodded him.

“Yes.” The word felt strange—alien—as if it were something entirely separate from him. Dammit, he needed to snap out of it! “Just give me a minute. Okay?”

“Sure.” Nodding her head against his chest, she quieted down.

What had happened? It must have freaked her out, too. He didn’t have any reasonable explanation… other than that he was sleepwalking. Going where, he didn’t know.

Pushing her back, he held her by the shoulders. Her skin was pale. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, of course not.”

“Why are you so shaken up? I know why I am.” He didn’t want anyone else lying to him, and he always felt like the doctors were skirting the truth about his situation, reluctant to share the actual issue or stakes in play. “Give it to me straight.”

“Have I ever given you reason to distrust me?” She looked earnest as she spoke.

“No.” His hands dropped away from her. “You’re forthright with me. Stay on that track.”

She nodded her head and then reached for a mini audio recorder on the bedside table. “I reset this last night, before we went to bed.”

“Should have some racy stuff on it, then.” He grinned, knowing it was a sad effort to ease the tension. Grabbing his pants, he pulled them on.

Maybe he should just leave. Where the hell were his socks and shoes?

“Jack, please, let’s sit down. I’ll make coffee and we can listen to it.”

The recording from last night might hold the key he was looking for—but was he ready to unlock those memories?

Laurie placed the recorder on the table and went about the process of making coffee. His eyes kept straying to the small silver digital recorder. He wanted to listen to it now, and get it over with, but made himself wait. Coffee would ground him, wake him up, and give him something to steady his nerves.
Christ, I hate feeling this way!

Placing two steaming cups on the table, she sat down across from him. “Are you ready?”

He took a few sips of the hot brew and then settled his hands on the outside of the blistering mug. The pain was grounding. “Hit it.”

She pushed the button. For a long time, there was nothing, just sounds of their combined breathing. Jack felt frustration start to mount. Then it began… a word here and there.

Don. Blood. Bomb. Helo. Head.

His own mind searched through the cabinets of experiences he’d locked away. When he located it, he tried to open the file, but it was stuck. He wanted that trip down memory lane, but in dossier form, in order of action. Then, as if his subconscious from last night had heard him, his own voice began to speak from the recorder.

South
America. Intel. CIA. Don’s pregnant wife. Drop zone. Hike. Rain. Factory was fucking ghost town.

His hand reached for the recorder. He clicked it off as the images rearranged themselves in his head. So many times he had searched his mind for the memory of that last mission… this time he didn’t want to come up empty. He opened his mouth to speak, praying the words he wanted would come out. “I remember…”

Just as suddenly as he started speaking, the memories flowed like a movie to him. He could see it, down to the last detail and tree. Or at least part of it was there. He was thrilled that there was more than he had previously had. “It worked, Laurie. I remember the planning, arriving there, and…”

“Jack—”

He held up a hand to silence her. His first priority was that the pictures come together. He was almost there; then he saw it. He spoke, slowly letting the memories out. “The brass wanted us to go to South America to get some Intel that had been stashed. The CIA had tried and several agents had died, so they had gotten in touch with the Navy. Supposedly, this info would provide details on drug drops and the various relationships between political leadership and the cartels.

“This wasn’t the first Op we’d done with the spooks, but command insisted it be a solo deal. That we go in alone, get the info, and bring it back. SEALs are better trained—yada yada. So, the orders were signed, the details were sent, and then we worked with our Intelligence Officer to develop the best plan.

“Don was distracted. His wife was pregnant. They had a lot to do to get ready for the baby. A bigger house. Her parents would want to stay with them. Listening to his father-in-law talk about being a lawyer, and how stable and steady it is…

“The helicopter was dropping us off pretty far from our destination—fast-roping, of course. This was meant to confuse any pursuers, as there were a number of hot spots in the area. I was itchy and felt in my gut that things weren’t right. I spoke up, but no one listened. They blamed it on nerves. But I wasn’t scared—something felt wrong to me somehow. I just couldn’t put my finger on the problem.

“Well, we headed up and over the mountain, which could have been dicey but was pretty easygoing. Seeley kept stepping on snakes. He hates reptiles in general. Amused the hell out of Don and me, the fact Seeley had to slice their heads off before they bit him. That was his Achilles’ heel, but as a SEAL, you end up facing whatever you fear a lot until you are mightily desensitized to it.

“When we got to the top of the mountain, we saw the factory. Didn’t look like there were any guards, and it was mostly deserted. Obviously, there had been a bad fight there—bodies were strewn about and there were a couple of burned-out jeeps and trucks. I suggested two of us scope it out.

“Everyone wanted to stick with the plan, so we all pushed down the mountainside. Working our way down was tricky—there were IEDs (Improvised Explosive Devices)—but we easily entered the factory grounds. The place was a fucking ghost town. Nothing was there! Didn’t even see a rat, which is unusual for a place like this. Usually cats and rats are everywhere.” Jack looked at Laurie and grinned, happy that the memories were flowing.

“I was going to break radio silence and say, ‘Nobody has been here in weeks,’ when we saw lights on in the factory—down in the basement. Methodically, we made our way in. Don and I stayed outside to guard the rear, but Pickens called us in. So, we went in the door—” The memory cut off abruptly, making him physically jerk. Jack started coughing and his throat began to spasm. Standing, he rushed to the sink and turned on the faucet, cupping water in his hand. He scooped the warm water into his mouth and coaxed it down until the spasm stopped.

Bracing his hands on the sink, he reviewed the chain of events. “It’s correct. This is how it all began. I fucking remembered!” He turned to her. His eyes were bright.

Lifting her out of the chair, he held her tightly in his arms. “I did it. I have more information. Thank you!” The emotion was clear in his voice, but he didn’t mind her knowing how much he valued her. He trusted her, and for the first time in a long time, he trusted himself.

***

Walking into the Team ONE Quarterdeck with high energy—or at least an energized hop in his step—felt great! Jack realized how he had been going through the motions of daily living without connecting to anything positive until now. For so long, he’d lost his joy. Now, with the help of Laurie, a part of his memory was finally falling into place, and he could hardly wait to talk to his CO (Commanding Officer), XO (Executive Officer), and Teammates.

As he walked through the corridor where portraits of heroic brethren, fallen in battle, or acts of heroism and achievement had been documented, he couldn’t help feeling humbled. Whatever he had done in his life, these men had done more. They had willingly gone the extra mile, though he could honestly say his passion and desire to be in the fight was as great as their own.

The first time he walked in here, he had spent a great deal of time staring at the photographs, considering these men and their lives. Only the exceptional knew what it meant to be chosen for the Teams; the ones who made it through Hell Week and deployments were eager for an ever-increasing challenge. He was a SEAL Team ONE guy, and short of retiring, he wanted to serve for as long as his body held out.

The offices on the second floor of the Quarterdeck were unusually quiet. The daily bustle of activity was lacking.
Crap! Is there some kind of event I don’t know about?

A couple of Intel Officers entered the hall. They nodded at him.

He nodded back, but neither of these guys was the one he sought. He actually wanted to talk to the XO, and seeing his empty office did nothing to help Jack’s cause.

Screw
this! I’m not waiting around.

He walked down the hall. Fresh ocean air flowed in from the open back door. At least it didn’t smell as bad as the ST1 (SEAL Team ONE) Platoon Area. Where the cages were, that place usually smelled like feet and sweat, and the stairwell was worse.

Checking his watch, he read 0639 and was relieved to see that he was on time to meet a few buddies.
They
should
be
strolling
in
here
any
minute
now. C’mon guys!
The email that shot into his phone at midnight had made him feel like heaven was smiling on him when he read it. With a few more pieces of the puzzle courtesy of his buddies, he might be able to put this whole damn puzzle together.

Turning around, he double-timed down the hallway and exited down the front stairwell and through the front door of the Team ONE Quarterdeck building. He headed for the ST1 Platoon Area.

Entering the building, he climbed the stairs two at a time, going straight for the third floor. Briefly, he considered stopping on the second floor to pull some gear from the cages. The discomfort of keeping someone waiting kept him moving. As he hit the top of the landing he saw a familiar soul enter the Platoon 1-Alfa room.

Jack pulled the door wide and jogged down the hall, hitting the room at a dead run. He considered tackling Gerry, who was now seated on a couch with his nose buried in a manual. But that man was built like a steamroller, and Jack didn’t need his nose rearranged, so he stopped short a few feet.

Towering over the human “man-wall,” he shouted, “Hey Knotts!” Jack knew his smile must be at least a mile wide. God, it felt good to see a brother!

A corpsman from Bravo shut the door between the rooms, shaking his head at them before he laid the barrier in place.
To
hell
with
him!

“Red Jack, you slacker, what the hell are you up to?” Laughing, Gerry Knotts said, “If I were on medical leave, I’d be in Hawaii on Oahu, surfing along the North Shore, instead of hanging here.” Knotts dropped the manual on the couch, got up, and closed the gap between them. The guy was wide like a linebacker but all lean, hard muscle as he grabbed Jack and hugged him, giving him a painful backslapping embrace. “You missed the rest of the guys by an hour. We got back at 0530.”

“Shit! You lily-livered fish, I thought I’d made it here on time,” Jack said, mirroring his buddy’s gestures and then taking a step back. Man, seeing Knotts was like manna for the soul.

“Cell service sucks on base. We got pulled into an impromptu meeting. You know how it is…”

“Yeah.” Nodding his head, Jack didn’t know what to say or where to start with his next comment. His brain was a jumble of opinions, thoughts, and questions. “I need to… I wanted to…”

“Talk about what happened. Yeah, that’d be good. Fuck, you were a freaking Hercules, the way you tossed bodies into the helicopter.” Moving past Jack, Knotts went to the top of the landing and looked down. Confirming all was clear, he came back over. “Did you just see anyone on your way in—like the XO?”

Jack shook his head.

Pushing one of his hands into the other one Gerry kneaded them together, a leftover nervous gesture from their boot camp days. He spoke softly. “Dammit, you need to know this, Jack—we’ve been ordered
not
to talk to you about the Op, until you remember something yourself.”

“I get it,” said Jack, disappointed. “They’re covering their asses.”

Gerry’s cell phone beeped. He withdrew it, smiled, and then pocketed it.

Patting Jack on the arm, he said, “Listen, I gotta go. That’s the third page from the wife. If I’m not home in five minutes, she’ll come here armed to shoot bear, or just me.”

“Yeah, uh, Gerry. Could we, uh, get a beer later?” Jack couldn’t let go of this golden opportunity to fill in the blanks. He needed Knotts to help him. His swim buddy was dead, two more were still in the ICU and had been put into comas “for their own protection,” and the others had been routed from San Diego to Virginia for debriefing and other stuff no one would talk about.