Once a SEAL (11 page)

Her eyes met his. “Yes.” The smile was weak, but it was there. “I’ll be fine. I love you, too.”

He kissed her once more, so tenderly it tugged his heart, and then pulled out of the embrace. Picking up his gear, he left.

The bedroom door clicked closed. He let himself out of the front and relocked it before he left. Depositing the duffel into his trunk, he stared at it briefly. Filled with knives and guns that lay snugly in their cases, with the ammo locked away separately, he knew it had been as safe as he had been able to make it.

He slammed the trunk and slid behind the wheel. He knew he should have told Aria about them from the start, but there was never really any harm of anything happening to anyone, unless they got bullets somewhere else or spent a lot of time sharpening the knives. He supposed it could happen, but he was as careful as he knew how to be.

He should have warned her he was leaving the next morning for the jump. But he didn’t have the heart. If they were counting strikes between them, he was on strike two, and most likely he was in the doghouse.

As he turned on the ignition and sped away from the house, he prayed things would get easier between them, without this push-and-pull sensation, because this bumpy road—was not doing a lot to ease or improve his mind-set.

Stopping in front of JC’s house, he waited. JC was out of his front door and sliding into the passenger side of the Mustang in no time. “You look like someone gave you a sour gummy bear. What’s up, coconut?”

“Just stuff…” As Dan sped away from the curb he tried to put his mind in neutral. It felt as if he was getting bombarded with pellets of worry…something that had never happened to him before, and he didn’t like it.

“Ah, married life. It’s a gem, isn’t it?” JC teased, pulling a long sip of coffee into his mouth. “I remember when Jen told me she was pregnant. I was on cloud nine, and that morning while we were diving, I was running low on oxygen, and if you hadn’t alerted me, I’d be swimming with the fishes right now. Distractions can kill ya, man.”

“It’s not like that,” Dan said. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d be happy if Aria was pregnant. I’m…just not sure how to sort everything out. Parts of each other, we don’t know very well. The brother moved in. Being there, and being gone.”

“Is the bloom off the rose? Is she ready to dump your sorry ass? You already made it longer than some of our brethren.”

Dan’s hand gripped the steering wheel tighter. “No. I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not.” He sighed. “I’m just frustrated. Don’t worry, I’ll work it out.”

“I know you will.” JC toasted him and then chugged down the rest of the coffee. Placing the empty container in the passenger-side cup holder, he said, “Best advice I can give you is to get over it or let it go, because we have some flying to do.”

“I’m with you.” Even as Dan spoke the words, they felt distant, untrue, and dishonest, but maybe if he repeated them often enough, they would become a reality.

***

At the base they grabbed the necessary gear from their cages…getting psyched up for the HALO jump. Some of the guys were giving each other crap. Dan couldn’t quite get into the mood. His mind keep wandering back to Aria, identifying the issues and building strategies to fix them. He was used to attacking issues head-on, making them better, and moving on. The problem was, he wouldn’t always be there to help Aria out of a difficult situation or funk.

He leaned into the large metal locker and felt pain rip through his finger. Blood gushed from an inch-long slice. “Damn,” he swore softly. When he wasn’t focused, sometimes he did dumb shit, and this would be one of those preoccupied moments.

“What’s up, Mac?” asked Hammer as he grabbed Dan’s finger and looked at. “I can fix that.” Digging out a roll of duct tape from his locker, Hammer ripped off a strip and then opened a bag holding hunks of gauze.

“Left over from that knee thing?” asked Dan, who then abruptly sneezed.

JC sneezed, too, and yelled. “Buster, take it easy on the baby powder, you’re killing the ambiance in here. I like the fact it smells like feet.” He sneezed again. “Come on, give it up!”

People asked him what it was like being a SEAL. They were just a bunch of men, doing what they do. There was no ego. You gave each other a lot of crap, and you made sure everyone was watching the others’ backs. Pretty basic stuff, but a lot of the world had visions of grandeur. SEALs didn’t. The fact was, overly prideful guys didn’t make it in the Teams. This life kept them humble, and that humbleness, in his opinion, kept them alive.

The alarm on Dan’s watch beeped. He gave everyone a hand signal. “Grab and go. We need to peel rubber.”

***

The plane climbed up to 35,000 feet. Everyone in the cabin was Team THREE, Platoon 1, and they were a combination of Alfa and Bravo. High Altitude and High Opening, or HAHO, was a “Hop and Pop” 35K jump, and you opened the chute by 34.5K. Today they were doing High Altitude and Low Opening, or HALO, which meant jumping at 35K and opening at 1,200 feet, giving them six seconds to get it right, or “unfuck” and pull reserve in case of failure. Dan knew that most likely there wasn’t a man on this plane who hadn’t lost a friend in a HALO either in training or on a mission. HALO jumps required split-second timing and full concentration.

Waiting for that moment, most of them were cutting jokes left and right.

“Fly into the arms of your mama, Zankin. Maybe she’ll fit you for air wings.” Hammer laughed at his own joke so hard, it was punctuated by a loud gaseous fart.

“Oh, man, I want my oxygen. Anything has to be better than that smell,” said JC, waving his hand in front of his face.

The jumpmaster gave the signal and they placed the O
2
masks over their faces and strapped them tight. That meant they were five minutes out from the jump site. It was typical, too, for oxygen to be put on in the plane when it exceeded 18,000 feet, if the cabin was depressurized. But for these purposes, the C-130 would stay pressurized until their masks were set and it was close to the time they leaped.

Dan turned to the person next to him and checked his neighbor JC’s O
2
flow. It was sound. Hammer was next to him and checked Dan’s, and on down the line they all went.

Each of them had packed their own square, as opposed to the round chutes that normal airborne troopers use. Someone else usually packed the safety chutes. The practice was, if the square the SEAL packed failed and the reserve the parachute rigger packed opened, then that safety rigger was owed a case of beer.

The C-130 hit some turbulence, and they bumped around for a few minutes. Finally, the plane steadied out. Dan checked his watch. Three more minutes, then it was time.

He remembered the first time he did a high-altitude jump. It was at 35K and the sky was so dark blue above him, he felt as if he were leaping into outer space. There had been something cosmic about it, as if he had been more scared of staying in the plane than leaping. Back then he’d thought,
if
I
die, at least I had the courage to do it for something I believe in…SEAL Team
. The best part was, not only did he live, he found he liked to jump.

Spending a few weekends at Trident Field, he had gotten jump-qualified on the civilian side. A few of his friends’ wives had parachuted tandem with him. It was strange how none of the ladies would willingly jump out of a plane with their husbands, but they’d allow themselves to be lashed to him. Must have been his Boy Scout exterior or some kind of a marriage thing. He’d once broached the topic with Aria—before their wedding—and she had emphatically said, “No.” He still wondered if he should be offended that she didn’t want him to jump her.

One of their most recent jumps had been over the ocean, and they had leaped at about five hundred feet over a contested stretch of water and captured four terrorists on an eight-million-dollar yacht. Another jump had been made from 35,000 feet, inserting them behind enemy lines to rescue a diplomat’s daughter.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dan saw the light flash red. Those men who weren’t already on their feet stood. There were about fourteen of them.

The back of the plane began opening. To anyone outside the plane, he imagined that when they jumped, it looked like a giant hungry bird feeding its kids. Hammer always said it reminded him of an eagle taking a dump. He had a way with words.

The light changed to green and they ran out, leaping in a giant heap.

Dan cleared the ramp and hit his hard arch. Wind buffeted his body for several seconds. Then he brought his arms to his side and followed JC down in a rapid descent. Checking his altimeter, he was almost there. Dan couldn’t hear anything. He’d once described it to Aria as sticking his head out a car window at 120 miles per hour and doubling that experience.

His mind drifted to her. All the issues they were having. “Shit!

He almost missed the signal. JC was the low man, and he had done the wave-off—hand to ears and arms spread—to signal he was about to pull his chute. Low man had the right of way, and he could have flattened JC’s chute, killed his swim buddy and himself.

Get
it
the
fuck
together!
Dan pulled and his square popped. He kept himself focused, his mind clear as he landed about ten feet from JC.

Mentally, he was kicking his own ass!
Crap, Dan! Remember your fucking training!

His hands shook as he took off his mask and turned off the O
2
. He stowed the mask and pulled the tank from his side. The strap had been loose, too.
Why
the
hell
didn’t I see that?
If it had dislodged during the landing, it could have blown.
Shit! Where is my brain?

The jumpmaster landed. As usual, he’d brought up the rear and assured that everyone left the plane safely. Also, he tended to eyeball all of the jumpers. “McCullum, what the hell? That was almost a near miss.”

JC was at his side instantly. Putting an arm around Dan’s shoulders, he said, “Nah, he just loves me. That was choreographed. We wanted to see how close we could get without smacking face.”

Dan started to deny it, but JC had other plans. “I noticed a small tear in my chute. Can you take a look?”

“Really? Let me see.” The jumpmaster gave up reaming Dan out and became preoccupied with the tear. “Looks like a tension rip. Make sure you report it when we get back.”

JC nodded. “Aye, aye.” His swim buddy’s gaze tracked his movements. He could feel it on his back.

Dan collected his square and then headed for the truck that was waiting for them. He didn’t know what to say to anyone, let alone JC.
Thanks
for
keeping
an
eye
on
me, watching my six. Damn it, I almost fucked up. Let me take my lumps.
Either way, Dan couldn’t be more pissed at himself. Later he’d have to figure what was going on with Aria and everything.

Now, well, all he hoped was they’d get to jump again. He wanted to prove to himself that he could keep his mind on track, in the present, and not get waylaid with all the shit his brain thought he had to deal with right now.

Aria yawned and spread her arms wide. She’d fallen asleep after Dan left. Rolling onto her stomach, she wondered if this was what other women went through…missing their husbands and at the same time being frustrated with them, too.

She lifted the pillow on top of her head and buried her nose in the air mattress. She cuddled into the smell, and her mind and body ached for him. She couldn’t escape…his scent lingered everywhere.

She remembered the first time she had picked up the sensory cue… Their first meeting had been in Bay Books on Orange Avenue. She’d been searching out Cathy Maxwell’s latest historical romance and Nora Roberts’s latest contemporary when someone bumped into her, sending her tripping over a small stool and ending up sprawled on the floor.

Looking
up, she was prepared to bawl out the jerk who had ruined her day, when her eyes connected with his…a man’s gaze so penetrating that she’d hardly remembered being pulled to her feet or the way his hands had brushed over her legs and back.

“Are you hurt?”

“No. I mean, yes.”

His
hands
roamed
over
her
back
again, and as they touched her rear…she pulled away.

“I’m fine. Really.” Heat rose in her cheeks. Spice and something wild filled her senses. “You smell good. I mean…I feel good.”

“Okay.” He stood there, just staring. Finally, he put out his hand and said, “I’m Dan.”

“Aria.” When she took a step, she tripped over her own feet.

He
caught
her
and
held
her. “Maybe we should go get some coffee.”

Abandoning
her
book
search, she allowed him to escort her from the premises and down to a small bar called Danny’s. They both ordered ice
d
teas
and
in
the
semidark
of
the
place
talked
about
books
and
snorkeling, travel and trips… When dinnertime filled the bar, they ate burgers and fries, and still they talked.

As
noise
made
it
more
difficult
to
continue
the
discussion, they left…walking toward the beach. Words left her head when he took her hand. Then silence wrapped its comforting arms around them both as they strolled past the Hotel del Coronado, the Coronado Shores, and onto the Amphibious Base beach.

Dan
waved
his
ID
at
a
security
guard
and
directed
her
farther
down
the
empty
beach. Then he turned her toward him.

Wind
whipped
her
hair
in
a
frenzy
of
movement
as
he
leaned
in
and
laid
his
lips
on
hers. Heat seared her skin where he touched her, and her mouth responded to his as if he were pure oxygen.

Wrapping
her
arms
around
his
neck, she deepened the kiss, leaning her hips into his. Her heart raced as his hands splayed on her waist. She breathed in his scent…that indefinable Dan smell…and she knew it would be stamped in her brain and on her heart forever.

She sighed. So much for staying in bed.

Swinging her legs off the side of the makeshift bed, she got to her feet. Her phone was making noise from the bowels of her purse. Digging it out, she looked at the message. It was from Hannah. The first message said, “There’s a tea this morning. You’re invited. No Caybreena types here.” The second message said, “It’s less than two minutes from your house on the A. Base—on the bay side. Pick you up at 9:00 a.m.”

Heading for the bathroom and a shower, she wondered if she could leave Jimmy here alone. Could she trust him, after everything that had happened? Hell, did she even want to go to another military tea? The first one had been such a disaster.

Turning on the water, she put her hand underneath and felt the stream jet, warm and soothing. Stepping beneath the spray, she allowed the heat to relax her muscles. If these wives were anything like Hannah, it might be a relief. The other options for her day were 1) work, 2) gather more frustration toward her brother, or 3) stew about Dan’s being gone. She’d take the chance and go with Hannah.

“I can leave a note for Jimmy,” she said, thinking out loud. She needed something to get her back on track, and what she was doing now wasn’t cutting it. It was time to change her location and her procedure.

***

“Welcome, Aria, to our little group.” A short woman with a rounded figure, glasses, and long blond hair opened the door. She waved them in with a smile. “Hi, Hannah. Oh! Thanks for bringing the cupcakes and pastry. You can place them over there on the counter.”

The entryway was white, and the living room was a brilliant rustic orange. There were books and stacks of magazines in places as well as gorgeous paintings filling the way. Aria was immediately drawn to one of a small boy and girl in a sailboat.

“Do you like it?” asked Francis. Her friend Hannah had shared that their hostess was the CO’s wife.

Aria still wasn’t sure what that meant or how she should act, but she decided to be honest. “I’m not an expert, but I’m a fan of Impressionism. Whoever painted this…the brushstrokes so delicate and precise and the overall depiction breathtaking…it’s amazing. Who’s the artist?”

Everyone groaned. Francis shushed them.

“It’s me.” She took it off the wall and handed it to Aria. “I can’t give them away fast enough.”

“I couldn’t. It’s too…much. All of the work that went into—”

“If you like it, then please take it. My husband would be thrilled and I am delighted. Come, take a seat.” Francis escorted her to a spot on the couch next to Hannah. “Just give me a minute, ladies.” Hurrying to the kitchen, which was visible over the large open counter, Aria watched Francis pop the cork on a bottle of champagne and pull the cork from a bottle of chilled wine that was already beginning to sweat. “We don’t need red, right?”

“Too early,” said a tall, rather stout-looking woman who looked physically like a linebacker, yet her face had high cheekbones and gorgeous angles. “I’m Judy Parker, the XO’s wife,” she said from the other side of Hannah. “Don’t look so baffled. I didn’t know anything when I began this journey either. The XO is the Executive Officer, the second in command, who reports directly to the Commanding Officer or CO.”

“Thanks, Judy. Nice to meet you,” replied Aria. “I never believed myself to be acronym challenged, but there’s a lot to take in.”

“You’ll get the hang of it soon enough. If you have any questions, call one of us,” said Francis, returning to the room. “Our breakfast buffet is ready, ladies.” Everyone stood and moved toward the counter. Platters were filled with sausage, bacon, fried eggs, melon slices and assorted berries, oatmeal, and Hannah’s pastry and cupcakes. Aria’s stomach growled as she looked at the gorgeous food on stunning china. She genuinely liked the vibe of these ladies.

“Ahhh!” A woman in a sundress bent down quickly. “Francis, get a towel. Sorry, I spilled my champers.”

“No worries, you know everything has Scotchgard. With three girls and two boys, we usually are in a constant state of chaos. You just got here after the cleaning lady worked on this room. She’s still upstairs.” Francis laughed. Sniffing the air, she ran into the kitchen. Opening the oven door, she waved away the smoke. Withdrawing a rather burnt egg dish, she laid it on a cooling rack and laughed. “So much for the quiche. Someone hand me the wine.”

When everyone had food and drink, they settled back into the living room. Over thirty women chatted enthusiastically. Aria caught pieces here and there.

“How’s Jen?” Judy asked Francis as she gave her full glass of iced tea to a choking neighbor and went to the counter, where she picked up an empty glass and filled it with iced tea and added a lemon wedge.

Francis smiled, “Any day now. Her mother flew in last week, and she’s having a marvelous time bossing JC around. She’s practically stacked the entire nursery with diapers for the next year.” Aria knew those names. JC was Dan’s swim buddy, two peas in a pod was how Dan described them…except no one was
actually
peeing. God, that man’s sense of humor was bad!

Another woman, dressed in pink shirt, skirt, and shoes said, “Did you hear the awful news about Kelt Haussey, he’s from Team SEVEN? He talked to his wife Olivia at 0600 this morning, and two hours later he was shot. They had been planning their tenth-wedding-anniversary party and a second honeymoon in Oahu.”

The whole room was quiet. Several ladies wiped their eyes or whisked away silent tears. The tension was so thick, it could have been cut with a knife.

Francis cleared her throat, obviously shaken. She spoke first. “Whose kids have classes with the Haussey children?”

Three women raised their hands.

“Okay, you put together baskets for the kids. Judy and I will make casseroles.” A buzz rose from the women. Francis sighed. “Fine. I’ll go to Costco instead. After our meeting, I’ll call Pamela and see what else we can do to help. Hannah will put the phone tree into effect, if reinforcements are needed.”

Hannah nodded. She mouthed a silent prayer and crossed herself. Then she whispered to Aria. “Pamela Johnson is the Commanding Officer’s wife of Team SEVEN. She and Francis are good friends.” When Aria didn’t reply, she said, “This is what we do…support each other. If one person hurts, we all do. It might still be sinking in for you, but in essence we are one family.”

Judy added in a soft voice, “Only some people want to participate and others don’t. Just know, the faces or individuals who are involved may change, yet the spirit remains the same.”

A chill ran up Aria’s spine. She would be devastated if anything happened to Dan. Even with the issues they’d been having, she loved him dearly. Maybe she needed to let him know that more often, instead of sending him out the door with a fight and grumpy attitude.

Voices rose to an anxious pitch as wives sent texts to their husbands.

“Okay, that’s enough. Don’t get worried if you can’t reach your husbands. A bunch of them are jumping and another group is at San Clemente Island,” said Francis, raising her hand for silence. “Before we set our minds on helping the Haussey family, let’s touch base with everyone here. Gretchen, you start.”

“The in vitro took. I’m entering my third trimester. I know a few of you have been guessing…wondering…but we wanted to make certain this would happen before we announced it.” The woman named Gretchen couldn’t have been more than four-foot-nine, and she looked as if she were wearing a football strapped to her stomach.

Hannah announced, “Yeah, we all knew what was going on, Gretchen. We’re having a baby shower for you in two weeks, in case you pop early.”

Everyone laughed.

Gretchen blushed.

“Hi to our newest member. Aria, my name is Tristi.” She gave a little wave in Aria’s direction. “I just wanted to thank everyone who came out to help me when the in-laws descended without notice at the same time the septic system backed up all of the toilets in the house. The smell was horrible, but you helped me get everything in shape—and brought food—and the in-laws didn’t even know.”

The circle of conversation moved around the room until it landed at Aria.

“Me?” Aria had been listening so intently, she hadn’t planned on providing any comments, but how could she refuse, after hearing such personal secrets and comments from the whole room. Denying them would be bad form in her opinion. “I, uh, recently had a death in the family. My uncle passed.” She choked up for a few seconds and swallowed the pain down. “I’m left to care for my brother. Makes sense, I suppose, since I raised him from a baby. But he’s a tough one. Jimmy didn’t speak for the first four years of his life. At first our uncle thought he had special needs, and then one day at an appointment with a new doctor, she mentioned that his diaphragm was small and hadn’t finished developing yet. It shocked me completely.”

“I’ve heard of that,” said Hannah supportively. “How is he now?”

“Things are getting better. He’s fourteen. He can speak, it’s just that now he’s a teenager—younger and smaller than most of his classmates—and sometimes getting information from him is like pulling teeth.” There were murmurs of agreement around Aria.

“Be firm with your brother. ‘Toe the line,’ in Navy speak. Don’t let him walk away from you. Force him to sit and listen and communicate. You have to be the one making the rules, and those rules should make your life easier, not his.” Judy pulled her phone out of her pocket and showed Aria a picture. “I have four teenage boys—all sixteen, and yes, they are quads—and let me tell you, my husband was gone over two hundred and ten days last year, and it is clear to everyone, I rule my house and it is shipshape.”

“Wow.” Aria absorbed the directions like a sponge. “I might need additional tips on that.”

“Anytime,” said Judy, replying to a text that had obviously come from her boys. “Your brother is welcome at our house, too. We always seem to have more mouths over for dinner. We put scholastics and sports before games and TV. Also, they will be kind to him, too, or they will answer to me.”

“Thanks, Judy, but this might change your mind,” Aria continued. “Since we’re all being so honest and Hannah has stressed that this is the place to air such things… We recently had a scare; Jimmy took one of Dan’s knives to school. Something called a Ka-Bar? No one got hurt, but he got suspended. Luckily, he’s going to be working at the courthouse over break as part of his punishment, and I have a feeling it will do him a lot of good.”