On Distant Shores (Exiles Triology Book 1) (7 page)

              Mike was so grateful that Karen and Jo embraced Allison as an equal, and as a friend.  Allison may be his stepmother, but she was the only mother he had ever known.  His mother passed away when he was two years old.  Allison gave him nothing but love, kindness and understanding since she came into his life.  He had a step-brother and a step-sister, but to him,Craig and Sarahwere his brother and sister.  Since he was the oldest, he always looked out for them when they were in school, growing up.  When Allison met Jo’s mom, Karen, those two were fast friends.  They talked to each other more than they talked to Mike and Jo.

              It was different with Jo’s father, Vince, and Mike’s dad, Jack.  Jack was a State Trooper for Georgia.  Vince was an investment banker.  Plus, Mike’s dad was a Republican, and Jo’s dad was a Democrat.  Not a whole lot of common ground there.  So, they kind of ignored each other if they were in close proximity. 

              Still, both were pretty happy to be grandparents.  And, while Vince was a Democrat, he was more of an old school, blue collar Democrat, despite his work, and secretly pleased that his son-in-law was Special Forces.  Of course, neither family knew that he was a Tier 1 operator.  Mike’s dad was a soldier in the 82
nd
Airborne, and he had a pretty good idea of what Mike’s job entailed, though. 

Married life had been an even bigger change than Jo anticipated.  Right before they got married, Mike told her what his job was.  She knew he was Special Forces, but didn’t know he was Tier 1.  Jo learned that she couldn’t question too closely about what Mike did, what missions that he went on, but she had met all of the team, and she stayed in tune with what was happening.

              “So Rob went down to Mr. Owens office?” she asked, changing the subject.

              Mike nodded his head, relieved, knowing that, with this question, the crisis was over, and he was off the hook, “Oh yeah, he did.”

              Jo heard stories about the retired Sergeant Major’s capability for creative phrasing when describing the reproductive process.  She met Mr. Owens a few times, but never experienced his expertise.  Since Mr. Owens considered himself a gentleman, he never displayed his verbal capabilities to her.  Even the team wouldn’t talk to her about Mr. Owens’ extensive vocabulary, except in terms that did not adequately demonstrate his abilities.  Some of the other wives in the unit heard a few things, and relayed them to her.  What little she heard raised her eyebrows, and made her blush.

              “And,” she asked.

              “Well, what Rob described would have to be anatomically impossible unless you’re contemplating shackles, a teeter-totter, and a mission impossible style cat suit.  I don’t know how else you would be able to accomplish it.”

              Jo looked at him in all seriousness, “You’re making that up, aren’t you?”

              Mike shook his head, “Nope, I couldn’t even if I tried.

              Jo took a few minutes to try and wrap her mind around the possibility.  She just wasn’t able, and after a few minutes, shook her head as if she was coming out of a trance, “I can’t even visualize that, and if I did, I’m not sure I would want that particular image stuck in my head for the rest of my life.”

              Mike agreed, “Yeah, better for you if you didn’t.  I may have nightmares for the rest of my life.”

              Jo got up and walked around the island to Mike.  She still had a glass of wine in her hand.  Mike was just finishing up at the sink.  The dishwasher next to him was open, and stacked with dishes, plates, cutlery, and glasses.

              She stood behind him and put her arm around his stomach as he scrubbed out the sink, and washed his hands.  She laid her head against his back.  She wanted him to know that she appreciated him making dinner for her, and that she knew it wasn’t his fault that he wouldn’t be there for the ultra sound.  Mike continued with the dishes and just enjoyed the feeling of having her close to him.  He loved her so much, and anything that hurt her, hurt him.  He knew this was her way to apologize.  This feeling was his life, what he kept with him, this closeness, deep inside his psyche when he was out on mission.  It was this feeling that would ensure that he always came home to her, even if he had to walk through the gates of hell to do so.

              Jo knew this.  There was a stillness around Mike whenever she did this.  She could feel the way his muscles moved across his back as his hands and arms moved to finish the task at hand.  When he was done, he grabbed the towel and wiped his hands on it to get the moisture off.  He turned and put his arms around Jo.  She leaned into his chest, sat the glass of wine on the counter, and put her arm around him.  She looked up into his eyes.

              “You know, since I can’t visualize what Mr. Owens was talking about, maybe you could show me.”

              Mike looked up in contemplation and thought for a few moments.

              “Well, we may be able to use a sauce pan and the vacuum cleaner, but I don’t think we have a folding ruler.”

              Jo asked, “Well, I have a duster in the hall closet, will that work?”

              Mike replied, “That completely depends on whether or not we have a tennis ball handy.”

              Jo looked at him, smiling, “You’re so full of shit.”

              Mike leaned down to kiss her. “Yes I am.”

              The tenseness from earlier was completely gone, and emotions had shifted into a completely different direction.  Mike used his foot to slide the dish rack into the dishwasher.  He used the same foot to kick the dishwasher door up to close it.  He felt around on the dishwasher until he found the button to turn it on.  Feelings became intense.  Hands were roaming under shirts, and buttons were being unbuttoned.  Newly bared skin was covered in kisses.

              Jo yelped in a quiet, but not unpleased voice.

              “Your hands are cold.”

              “Hellooo, just did the dishes and washed my hands,” Mike replied.

              “Let me help you warm those up.”

              The intensity increased.  Clothes were coming off.  Mike picked up Jo and started to put her up on the counter of the island.

              “No, that’s wet and cold.”

              “Couch?” he asked.
              “Lazyboy?” she countered.

              Admiration entered his voice, “very daring, young lady.”

              She giggled.  Mike picked her up and she wrapped her legs around him.  He carried her into the living room, maneuvering to keep from tripping over furniture.  Jo continued pulling off clothes, hers and his.  The clothes landed on the floor, marking the trail to the Lazyboy.  Soon there were no more clothes, and there was no more talking.

--------------------------------------

              They lay on the couch, under a blanket, enjoying the aftermath, a trail of destruction marking the path they left across the kitchen and living room.  The sound of light rain on the roof added to the comfort of the moment.  They lay there, Mike on the bottom, Jo laying on top of him.  One of his arms was behind his head, the other around her.  Jo had both arms under her, one hand on his stomach, the other tracing a design around his nipple.  She lay with her head on his chest so that she could listen to his heartbeat.

              “I don’t think I put any soap in the dishwasher.”

              Jo smiled, “I think you were a little busy at the moment.”

              “True.”

              There was a pause.

              “Oh crap,” Mike said.

              Jo’s face went from content to curious.

              “What is it?” she asked.

              “I just thought about the table scraps for Moira and Fiona.”

              Jo thought for a moment, “Oh crap.”

              Mike nodded, “Yep.”

              Jo asked, though she already knew the answer, “They’re still outside, aren’t they?

              Mike answered, “Yep.”

              Jo sighed.  She listened to the rain, “Wet puppies.”

              Mike answered again, “Yep.”

              Jo sat up, glorious in her nudity.  Mike drank in the sight of her beauty like a thirsty man.  Mike was lying naked underneath her.  She ran one hand over his stomach, enjoying the reactions of his body.

              “Do you want the dogs, or do you want the clothes?” she asked.

              He thought about it, not wanting to let go of the moment.  He sighed, “I’ll take the dogs.  You get the clothes.”

              Jo stood up and started grabbing clothes off of the floor.  Mike sat up and looked around for his boxer shorts.  If the clothes weren’t picked up, there was a very good chance that the dogs would be running around the house with Mike or Jo’s underwear in their mouths. 

              Mike sat there watching her body.

              “Hey, perv.”

              Mike smiled, stood up and walked over to her.  He placed his hand on her ass and pinched her cheek.  He kissed her as he did so.  She squealed as he pinched.

              “It’s a good thing that the dogs were outside,” he stated.

              Jo laughed, “Yeah, there is nothing like a wet nose to spoil the mood.”

              Mike chuckled.  He found his boxers and put them on.  He walked to the kitchen door, and sure enough, there were two wet, bedraggled dogs sitting on the stoop.  Fiona whined as he looked out the door at them.Doggy smiles and wet tongues tickled his legs as he let them in.  He herded them back to the door so that they wouldn’t run through the house, getting everything wet. 

              “Babe, help, need towels.”

              He heard quick footsteps as Jo ran to the room, dumped the clothes on the bed, and then ran to get towels.  He was about to lose the game that the dogs were intent on playing, when she came in with the towels they use for the dogs.  She was dressed now, having taken the time to pull on shorts and a t-shirt when she was in the bedroom.  She wrapped Moira up in a towel and started drying her off.  Mike grabbed Fiona and started drying her.  The towels were bitten and tugged, by the dogs, more interested in playing than getting dry.  It took a while, but eventually, the dogs were dry, the floor mopped up, and the frenetic energy in the dogs wound down.  Mike put the scraps and food in the bowl for the dogs, and they were busy eating.

              Jo stood beside Mike.  He put his arm around her, and she leaned her head against him.  She sighed, “One more disaster diverted.”

              Mike smiled, “You know it’s going to get worse with two or three kids in the mix.”

              “Yeah, but they’ll be our kids, and our mess to deal with.”  She looked at him, “Think you can handle it, big guy.”

              He looked at her, “Honestly, it’s a little overwhelming for me.  I trained to deal with death and destruction.  Raising kids,” he looked back at the dogs, “and praying that I’m doing a good job, hoping that I don’t screw up and raise serial killers,” he paused, “that scares the hell out of me.”

              Jo stood up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek.  “Don’t worry baby, I’ll be right here with you.”

              “Thank God.  If kids are half as bad as those two, I’ll need all the help I can get,”Mike put his arms around Jo, and squeezed.

--------------------------------------

              He woke up thirty minutes before the alarm.  Whenever he had a trip or a mission, he woke up early.  Something in his psyche would bring him out of a deep sleep, so that he wouldn’t be late.  It was Monday, and Mike had to get on the road early.  He lay next to Jo, listening to her breath, chest rising and falling.  He moved carefully and turned off the alarm.  He didn’t want to wake her.  He lay motionless and listened to the stillness of the house, and the soft patter of rain on the roof.  He looked over occasionally at the alarm clock to see the time, and watched the countdown until he had to get out of bed.  The alarm clock displayed 0415 hours, 4:15 AM in civilian speak.  He moved slowly to get out of bed.  Jo stirred, then rolled over and went back to sleep.  He walked softly through the bedroom and out into the kitchen.  He shut the door to the bedroom.  Then he flipped on the lights. 

The dogs were in their kennels.  Jo took them on Friday to the vet, and they were spayed.  Mike and Jo went on Saturday afternoon to pick them up.  Neither one was very happy with the operation, andneeded a lot of attention on the way to the truck.  They walked into his legs, and tried to hide under vehicles, not understanding the source of the pain.  He and Jo spent the day feeding the girls drugs for infection and pain.  Jo sat with Fiona, and Mike sat with Moira, just petting them so that they would calm down. They watched movies and ate popcorn while they sat with the girls.  They spoiled them with doggy treats, and cuddled them.  The dogs slept intermittently while the movies played.

His bag was packed and sitting on the couch.  The clothes he was going to wear were laid out next to the bag on the couch.  He walked to the spare bathroom for his morning wash.  After a hot shower and shave, he was wide awake.  He came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist.  Jo was up and cooking eggs, sausage, and had putsome quick cooking biscuits in the oven.  She was wearing a robe over her usual tank top and pajama bottoms.