SEAL's Promise - Bad Boys of SEAL Team 3, Book 01 (10 page)

Her dad was devoted to her mother. That same attentiveness was what originally attracted her to Frankie, who would be the same kind of husband her dad was. Now without her husband, it made the visit with her dad all that more important.

The neighborhood looked just as she remembered it, except the trees were bigger and the houses seemed smaller. She’d ridden her bike up and down the level streets, where the curbs were all rounded to make that part of town “kid friendly,” or so her mother had touted to all her friends.

Her mother had been a social icon, PTA President and deeply involved in all of Shannon’s school activities. Mr. Moore’s devotion to her mother only widened the gap she felt growing up. Her mother’s events and parties made the local society columns, and Shannon was known as “Mrs. Moore’s daughter.” She felt more like Mrs. Robinson’s daughter from The Graduate, even though she didn’t suspect her mother of infidelity. But, she thought, her mother could have played that role well.

When she went off to college and then met Frankie, his easy-going manner and devotion made her the center of his universe, and for the first time in her life she didn’t have to share the stage with another Diva. Frankie was her ticket out. She’d never laughed so hard or loved being alive so much.

On this trip, she was hoping to extract some of her mother’s iron will and bask in her father’s love. She knew it would help her heal.

Not yet ready to face them, Shannon drove past her parents’ house. One by one, her childhood landmarks came into view. The town was known for having one of the first children’s libraries in California. It also had a children’s theater around the corner from where Shannon had taken her swimming lessons. On an impulse, Shannon parked and got out.

She remembered the lifeguard instructor with shocking white-blonde hair and brown eyes, the one who always had a thick layer of white zinc oxide on his nose. He wore dark-rimmed sunglasses and had the physique of Michelangelo’s David or Adonis. The worst memory was from when she was eight and would always belly flop if he tried to help her do a front dive into the pool. His habit of putting his hand on her tummy right before she launched her dive had flustered her and always landed her in disaster. Did he ever catch on?

She wandered over to the Children’s Theater, finding the doors open. Several children and one adult were on stage, with a director sitting three rows up from the stage, barking instructions.

She turned left, sure that the room was still there, and it was. The wardrobe closet was her favorite childhood memory. It had been guarded by Peg, who had worked there for thirty years. Peg, was enormous, but somehow made it up and down the narrow rows of sequins, feathers and silks, remembering every jacket, every pair of pants, every cummerbund, petticoat or pair of wings, and what size child they would fit. Her loving hands and generous hugs turned plain children, petrified to get up on stage, into magical creatures. In their finery, they would parade back and forth, becoming kings and queens, knights and dragons, butterflies and birds and pumpkins, and a host of other things they’d never thought they could be. The imagination and silliness of childhood were allowed to run free in the theater.

Shannon imagined Courtney taking an acting class. She hoped she might get her first kiss from a boy covered in greasepaint, her little heart going pitter-pat, just like she had.

At the end of the first row of costumes Shannon got to her knees. Carefully, on all fours, she crawled under the red petticoats of the can-can dancers and lifted the glittery finery. She was looking for her inscription written in pencil on the wall.

Shannon Loves Richard.

She recognized her handwriting. Sitting under the mass of red petticoats, with her back leaning against the wall, the baby kicking in her belly, she touched the letters she had scrawled. With one hand on her abdomen and the other pressing against her letter to her future self, she felt the distance between where she had been and where she was now.

This place could be good for Courtney.
She couldn’t wait to tell Courtney all the stories and adventures of her youth, the piano lessons with the teacher who had performed at Carnegie Hall when she was young, but who lovingly placed her gnarled and crippled fingers over Shannon’s small ones, asking her gently to stretch wide to reach all the notes her young hands struggled with.

“Grow into your piano hands, Shannon. You must stretch and grow into them.” And gnarled and crippled or not, her fingers had felt smooth and soft, her handwriting perfectly formed as she jotted down the lessons with a soft pencil.

Back in those days, it had been pure pleasure to ride her bike with the breeze running through her hair. She’d watch the big houses with the beautiful yards go by one by one. Imagining the stories, the families inside, and wondering what they were doing, she rode almost invisibly down the heavily tree-lined streets of a community of people who cared about their children. Her stories were her future, riding her bike up and down the rounded curves from the sidewalk to the streets and back again, trying to envision a life like the one she was leading now.

But she’d also felt confined here as a child, with her parents’ high expectations she could never completely live up to. Doing it her own way became more important the older she got.

Now, she appreciated the beauty of her childhood. She saw how it enveloped and protected her. She realized that this was the childhood she wanted for her daughter. The two of them together would find that safe, comfortable place.

She was alive and happy now, although a widow, with a child not yet born, living in a place that reminded her of a past she could not have any longer, wondering if it might be wise to move to a place where she could create a future all by herself.

She’d written down the address of a little house three doors down from the home she grew up in. Smallest house on the block, in need of the most repairs. But it would do. Shannon’s past would shield her daughter’s future.

She needed to do this. She needed to move away from San Diego. She was determined to be self-sufficient, but it made sense to have her parents close by, just in case. When she told herself that moving here would be no big deal, she knew there was a lie hidden in there, but quickly tamped down the feeling. She’d needed the space away from San Diego to make a clear-headed decision, away from the temptations of her body. Now that she’d decided, she was ready to face her parents.

And then she’d tell T.J. what she’d decided.

H
ER PARENTS WERE
thrilled with the possibility she’d move up north, and wanted her to move in with them, which she declined.

“Oh, honey, it would be so nice to have little Courtney in this house,” her mother had said.

Her dad’s face was all the encouragement she needed.

“No, not here, but perhaps close by. There’s a little house near the theater that’s for sale.”

They’d discussed it until late in the evening. She walked outside after her parents went to bed and looked up at the star-filled sky. The move wouldn’t be like the last time, when she had just graduated from college, an eager young woman off for her first job, a great adventure in a town full of hunky Navy guys.
A safe place to be
, her friends had said.
Lots of sunshine and mild climate. Nights full of stars.

It had been one of those starry nights when she’d met Frankie. He’d graduated BUD/S and was getting ready to deploy for the first time. She didn’t even know what a SEAL was until she’d met him. He was forever with his sidekick, T.J., and her distrust and dislike of him was instantaneous.

Now she knew why. T.J. had wanted to insert himself between her and Frankie. He was protective. Never having anyone to protect him in a system that had failed him miserably, he wanted to take care of Frankie, even if Frankie didn’t even know he needed taking care of. He’d fixed him up with girls T.J. liked, but who scared Frankie to death.

Shannon smiled at this. T.J.’d been so tender with her. She owed a lot to Frankie’s best friend. Without her intimate afternoons with him, when she explored the depths of her heart and soul, she would never have been able to find the strength to contemplate moving back home. She hoped he would understand. And that one fine day he would have a woman and a home of his own.

His quiet confidence had instilled in her something special, like Frankie had. T.J. had shown her the way to go on, to deal with life on life’s terms, that every day was a gift.

He would forever be special to her. And she’d make sure Courtney knew him as her daddy’s best friend, but probably not as her mother’s lover. Wrap up a few more details, and then she’d go home, sell the house, and get on with her life.

Telling T.J. he would be welcome to come visit, but not share her bed any longer, would be the hardest part. She hoped this gentle warrior would in time forgive her for parting them, even though she didn’t have a clear-cut future.

For the first time in her life, she didn’t have definite plans. Her plan was simply to live. To raise her daughter. To work hard to be the kind of mother Frankie would have wanted, give back to her parents the kind of love, through Courtney, she wasn’t able to show them growing up.

The next day, she went shopping with her mother for things for the new house. They talked over lunch like they had when she had her first department store job when she was still in high school.

Shannon went with her mother to interview a new doctor, a woman doctor this time, who didn’t ask where her husband was. She still wore her wedding ring, the simple gold band that was the only thing Frankie had been able to afford. She made diagrams and drew out the furniture she would bring up. She laid out Courtney’s nursery. She thought about the vegetables she’d plant, and she interviewed her realtor’s gardener. She found a new place to have her car serviced.

T.J.’s messages finally stopped, as if he’d had a premonition about her plans. Day after tomorrow she’d return to begin the packing and moving process. With her parents as co-signers on the loan, there wasn’t an issue about her qualifying. The death benefit was more than ample for her down payment. She knew Frankie would approve.

Now if she could figure out a way to tell T.J. without breaking his heart. Would he be able to support her in this decision? Would he understand?

Chapter Thirteen

‡

T.
J
.’S PHONE RANG
early the next morning. It was Shannon.

“Understand you’ve gone up north.”

“Yes, I came to visit my folks.”

He wanted to say something but held his tongue. He wanted to tell her what a bad idea that was, ask her why she had to go way up there when everything she needed was right here in San Diego. But he didn’t want to hear what she’d say.

“I’m actually considering staying here. I want you to think about that before we talk further.”

So, there it was. Confirmed. His worst nightmare.

“Sounds like you’ve pretty much made up your mind.”

“I think it would be good up here for Courtney and I.”

“Where do I fit in that picture?”

“I’m not sure yet. Where do you want to be?”

“Well, I can’t move up there. Sounds like you don’t want to be here, with me. So that pretty much tells me everything.” He thought he was prepared for this conversation, but now realized how inadequate he felt. He wished they were talking face to face, but realized perhaps that was Shannon’s plan.

“I’ve had some time to think, and maybe staying down in San Diego isn’t the best for me anymore.”

“Why, Shannon? I already said I’d take care of you and the baby. Why are you running away?”

“I’m not, T.J.”

“So you just don’t want to be around me, right? It’s me, then. Why don’t you just fuckin’ come out and say it?”

“Because that’s not the truth.”

“Why didn’t we talk about this?”

“You don’t owe me anything, T.J. I want to do this on my own. Away from the distraction of—”

He hated this. “So, now I’m a distraction?”

“You don’t have to take care of me. I want to know I can do it on my own.”

“I just have to ask you, Shannon. Is there someone else?”

“No. I wouldn’t do that.”

“I’m coming up to see you.”

“No, don’t. That’s not a good idea.”

“You saying you’ll refuse to see me? That what you’re saying?”

“Why do you have to be so in charge? Can’t you see I just need to process things a little?”

“You know what you’re doing to Joe and Gloria Benson?”

“T.J., that’s between me and them.”

“I’m fuckin’ coming up there to talk to you, period.”

“Fine.” She sighed. “But I won’t change my mind. You can’t fix this, T.J.”

T
.
J
. GOT PERMISSION
from Kyle to make a run up to the Bay Area and then took a transport to Moffet Field. He rented a car on the El Camino and rang Shannon.

“Where are you right now?” he asked.

“You’re here? Now?”

“What did you think, I was kidding?”

She decided to give him the address of the little house she’d just made an offer on.

Within a half hour T.J.’s hulking frame blocked sunlight coming through the small rounded window in the heavy oak door. He pushed it open with a loud creek that echoed off the bare hardwood floors and stucco walls. The place was similar in style to the home she and Frankie had bought in San Diego, a Spanish style bungalow, but even smaller.

The sight of her as she walked around the corner from the kitchen took his breath away. She’d developed even rosier cheeks, and her belly looked like it had grown dramatically. He found himself gawking and then remembered himself.

As he got close to her he could see her apprehension. He wanted it to be anticipation of a joyful reunion, but that’s not what she showed him. With her arms outstretched, palms facing him, she kept him from her, so he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

“Missed you,” he whispered.