SEAL the Deal (35 page)

Mick’s stared in disbelief.

“It’ll be forever before I hear back, and
God knows they probably won’t give it to you seeing as guys generally need to
be dead to get one these days. But I wanted it on record.”

“Sir, if you thought so highly of my
performance on that mission that you’d put me in for the Medal of Honor, then why
the hell am I teaching in Annapolis?”

“Your performance on the mission was
admirable. But afterwards…” The Captain crossed his arms. “…you fell apart,
Mick. You were dangerous.”

“To who? You?”

Captain Shey scoffed. “Hell, no. To
yourself. To your team if you were sent on another mission.” Leaning forward, he
took a long sip of coffee. “You overstepped boundaries. If I sent you to San
Diego in that condition, you would have ended up getting a month’s worth of
psych evals. You were too pissed off to be in black ops. We need level-headed
men, not hot-headed SOBs who mouth off and question their chain of command.”

Mick’s eyes narrowed. “May I speak
frankly, Sir?”

The Captain smirked. “You always did.”

“You deserted us under heavy fire, for no
reason I can guess, except that you were afraid of getting a dent in your Black
Hawk helicopter.”

“For no reason you can guess,” the Captain
repeated. “Will you listen to yourself? There are things that happen in the
field that even you don’t know. You may not have the clearance to know why we
had to pull out the bird and risk your team. But you’ve served with me on five
missions and you should have known that if I pulled out, then there were more
lives on the line than just your sorry asses.”

The Captain narrowed a steady gaze on
Mick. “You and me, Mick? We’re not friends. I don’t owe you explanations. If
you start thinking you deserve explanations from your CO then you better get
out of the SEALs.”

Mick shifted uncomfortably.

“Son, you better learn to stop jumping to
conclusions in your life and give the people who have earned your trust a lot
more leeway. Not everything’s in black and white.”

Mick’s eyes dropped. “I’ve been hearing a
lot of that lately.”

The Captain gave a curt nod, ending that
part of their conversation. “I’m not here for a social call or to put some salve
on your old wounds. I’m here because we’re recalling you for a mission.”

Mick’s eyes met the Captain’s, stunned.

“You’ll be briefed on the C-17 out of
here. There’s a car waiting outside to take you to Andrews. The Academy will be
notified that someone will need to replace you.”

“Will I be coming back?”

Captain Shey laughed. “You’d be crazy as
hell to start asking that question now. But you might. Right now, I’m just
interested in the next few weeks of your life. I could care less what happens
to you after that.”

“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, why
me?”

“Because we’re going back to that area outside
of Kandahar. No one knows the terrain better than you and Lieutenant Sully. Sully’s
out, of course, on account of his leg.” He stood from the table and reached for
his cap. “I’ll give you a couple minutes to grab your ID and tags. Might want
to take out the trash,” he suggested casually. “It’ll be a while before anyone
sees the inside of this place again. Welcome back, Mick. Don’t call me a pansy-ass
again.”

Mick jumped to attention and remained
frozen even after he heard the front door close behind the Captain. He felt a
stirring in his blood that he hadn’t felt in months, a surge of adrenaline that
shook him from his stunned stupor and sent him up the stairs to grab his
things.

ID and tags. Shaving kit. Desert cammies. He
stuffed them into his rucksack, and glanced at the phone, feeling the need to
hear Lacey’s voice on the other end. But he knew he couldn’t tell her he was
going.

He put on his khakis to travel to the
airport, knowing he would box them when he got to Andrews. Lacey would find out
eventually, he knew. Rumors were quick to spread, and Jack would do some
searching when he came back from Spring Break and didn’t find Mick in his
office.

Mick heaved a frustrated sigh. Why did he
and Lacey have to fight now? Was it like Maeve had said?

Damn it, he loved her. Funeral crasher or
not. He still loved her. She knew that, right?

Never let the people you love wonder
how you feel. It’s a waste of precious time.
Mrs. B’s words haunted him now. He could remember when she said it to
him, only days after Doc died. He hadn’t listened or understood.

God, I’m an a-hole, he thought, the
reality of it killing him.

He glanced at himself in the mirror as he
pulled his razor off the sink. He looked like hell. Of all the times to be
pulled into a SEAL mission. He hoped he could manage some sleep on the fourteen
hour flight to the Middle East.

Charging out of his bedroom, he stopped
for a second and looked over his shoulder. The house was a mess. No matter. No
one would touch his house while he was on a mission.

Unless he got killed.

Then it would be Jack, Mick imagined, who
would pack his things. He just hoped that Jack would break his word in this one
case, and tell Lacey that Mick had wanted to marry her.

Mick would want her to know he cared about
her that much, admired her that much.

Loved her that much.

A curious lump in his throat, he darted toward
a heap of dirty clothes in the corner of the room and searched the pockets of
the pants he wore last night. Pulling out the ring box, he opened it, and set
it on his dresser.

There.

If Mick couldn’t come home to her, she’d find
out how he felt.

He could hear the hum of the motor outside
his house as he turned off the lights, grabbed the kitchen garbage bag, and
locked the front door behind him.

***

Her puffy eyes hidden behind sunglasses,
Lacey trudged up to the door of Edith’s house picturing the sweet, unassuming
woman inside who had no idea she had befriended a vulture in Lacey.

Isn’t that what Mick had called her? A
vulture.

Hand outstretched, she paused a moment,
her courage waning, before finally ringing the doorbell.

“Lacey! So nice to see you, dear.” Edith’s
warmth resonated so naturally as she opened the door, making Lacey feel even worse.

She obviously didn’t know. At least Mick
had done the courtesy of letting Lacey be the one to tell her.

“Hi, Edith.”

Cocking her head to one side, Edith took a
long look at Lacey pulling off her sunglasses. “You don’t look well at all.”

“Edith, can we sit down and talk, please?”

“Of course.” The older woman had already
begun guiding Lacey to the sofa.

Lacey could remember sitting here the
first time. Seeing Mick walk through the doorway with his confident stride. She
remembered his surprise at seeing her. And that touch. That moment when he
shook her hand and she knew she never wanted to let go.

The tears poured from her eyes.

“My dear, what on earth has happened?” Edith
took Lacey’s hand in both of hers.

“I have to tell you something. Something
awful. When I met you, it was completely under false pretenses.”

“At Don’s funeral?”

“I didn’t know your husband. Not till I
read his obituary. I—I used to look in the obituaries for potential
clients.”

Edith looked confused. “You wanted work
from Don?”

“No. From you.” Lacey withered slowly into
the couch, spending the next painful minutes trying to explain why she was at
Donald Baker’s funeral all those months ago. And why if funeral homes offered
frequent flyer miles, she’d never pay for airfare again.

By the time Edith understood, Lacey was
slouched over the arm of the sofa from humiliation and exhaustion. Whoever said
confession was good for the soul had obviously never confessed. “I just thought
it might be a good way of getting my business cards out there to some people
who might actually sell.”

Edith raised her eyebrows. “But you practically
turned down my listing when I called.”

“That was because I didn’t think you
should sell. I’d never pressure someone into doing something like that.”

Edith patted Lacey’s hand, still in her
gentle grip. “A good choice. So why are you crying?”

Lacey’s face curled up. “Because it’s a
horrible thing to do—to try to benefit from someone’s death like that.”

Laughing, Edith’s eyes sparkled. “I should
show you the bill from the funeral home. That might make you feel better.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

The old woman’s smile was serene. “Lacey,
I didn’t know half of the people at that funeral and I’m betting if Don had sat
up in his casket he’d have said the same thing.”

“Mick thinks it was unethical.”

“It might be,” Edith admitted
noncommittally.

“He called me a vulture.”

Edith rolled her eyes. “That boy always
did have a flare for the dramatic. So he found out by accident?”

Lacey nodded.

“I can see why that might have caused him
to be upset. No one likes learning things by accident. But he’ll get over it. Now
about your—um—career direction, dear. We must be able to come up
with a better way of finding clients for you than attending funerals.”

Lacey sighed. “I’m not even sure if I want
to be in real estate anymore. I don’t know. I’m thirty years old and I still
don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.”

 A knowing look swept over Edith’s
face. “Do you know who has the answer to that? Little children. Ask children
what they want to be when they grow up, they don’t even think about it. They
just tell you.”

“Not me. When I was a kid, I kept changing
my mind.”

“Yes, but that’s just it. You ask them one
week, and they say a ballerina or a fireman. The next week it’s an astronaut or
a teacher.”

“I don’t get it.”

Edith tilted her head, her eyes shaded
with years of wisdom. “You don’t have to be one thing. Just be what feels right
now
. You don’t have to commit to a career the way you do a husband or a
child. Just follow your interests. Follow your heart.”

A heron outside the window caught Lacey’s
eye as it gracefully landed along the shoreline. She pressed her lips together
thoughtfully. “My sister Vi was never like that. She always had direction. She
always had her eye on the finish line. My parents, too, I think.”

Edith shook her head slowly. “Then I feel
badly for them. Life should be a journey, not a destination. Because otherwise,
you’ll discover we’re all pretty much going to end up in the same place.” She suddenly
laughed. “You should have at least learned that much crashing funerals, my
dear.”

“Life is a journey,” Lacey found herself
repeating. She smiled as she saw the heron dip his head into the water and
raise it again, a hefty fish in his long beak.

Could it really be as simple as that?

Bess eased herself into one of the soft
leather chairs at The Buzz, her senses absorbing the lovely aroma of coffee beans.
She looked at her tea steeping in front of her, and rubbed her belly. Thirty-seven
weeks as of yesterday. Less than three weeks to go. Soon, she’d sit here with
her baby girl and sip a cup of coffee.

“Mmm,” she murmured quietly at the idea. How
she missed high-octane coffee.

It was a slow day at The Buzz. With Spring
Break underway, the usual crowd of midshipmen and local college students was
replaced by a smattering of tourists.

She smiled a little. It was good to be
alone. Much as she loved Maeve and Lacey, they hovered over her like a couple of
mother hens since her stay in the hospital. It was endearing. Kind. Thoughtful.
And a huge pain in the ass.

But today, Maeve had taken Lacey on a day
trip down to Solomon’s Island to get her mind off of Mick. She hoped some time
away from Annapolis and a little shopping in the island’s quaint local
galleries might perk up Lacey’s spirits.

Bess couldn’t believe Mick hadn’t called
her yet. But then again, Lacey hadn’t called him either. They were at a
stalemate.

A young couple entered the coffee shop,
eyes filled with energetic laughter. Bess quickly slouched in her chair, recognizing
the man as the visiting West Point cadet Mick had introduced her to months ago
at the Chapel. She definitely didn’t want to be recognized right now, with her
huge belly and swollen ankles.

She watched him order for them both and pay.
“To go,” she heard him say. Thank God, she thought. They’d leave without seeing
her.

Raising her tea to her lips, Bess casually
gave the woman with him a quick appraisal. She was beautiful, of course. Perfect
blonde hair and a trim little waist that had Bess longing for her own.

Bess wanted to hate her. She really,
really did.