The SEAL's Best Man (Special Ops: Homefront Book 2) (17 page)

 “That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever
heard of.” With a stack of files in his hands, Mick stared at Jack, baffled, as
they packed their belongings in the small office they had shared for two school
years.

“Well, don’t tell that to Maeve. She
really likes it. And I’m betting Lacey will like it, too.” Jack wrapped packing
paper around the framed photo of his family. “It’s symbolism, Mick. Tons of
people do it. Just Google ‘tree planting ceremony.’ A tree is something
lasting, something that grows, you know the deal.”

Mick had been surly since he and Lacey
had arrived back from San Diego yesterday, still chest-deep in negotiations
over a house they had bid on, and grumbling about sellers with unreasonable
expectations. “Yeah, I understand the tree part,” he replied. “But wouldn’t it
make more sense to plant it?”

Shaking his head, Jack put the wrapped
picture in a cardboard box, gently pressing it down to make more room. He had
no idea he had accumulated so much stuff in his office. “Not with Lacey in a
wedding gown. Of course not.” He grabbed a coffee mug his niece had made him,
and dumped the pens that filled it onto his desk. “You take a sapling, put it
in a pot. You water it. She waters it. Sometimes couples have their parents
water it. And you’re pronounced husband and wife.”

“A sapling? I thought you said we’d plant
a tree.”

“A sapling is a baby tree. You know, a
few inches high.”

“Well, I think it should be a tree. Something
that won’t get mowed over by a lawnmower by accident. You know, about six or so
feet.” Mick dropped some papers into a box in front of him. “And how is it
meaningful if we don’t actually plant it the same day?”

“God, you’re difficult. I can’t believe
Lacey agreed to marry you,” Jack muttered.

“I’m serious, Jack. I like my idea
better. We get one of those crepe myrtles—you know, the ones that bloom
in late summer. Lacey always says they remind her of me because they were in
bloom when I got back from Afghanistan and proposed.”

Jack leaned back in his chair, stunned. “So
you
are
a sentimental, after all.”

“Not sentimental. I just remember that
sort of stuff. Gets me out of the doghouse when I do something stupid. You’d be
smart to take a lesson from me on that one.”

“So you want a crepe myrtle?”

“Yeah. And a nice big one. I’m a SEAL,
for God sake. I like things big. Freakin’ sapling? That’s just insulting,” he
finished under his breath.

Jack pressed his lips together in thought
as he wrapped another frame. He had to find a way to make this work. Surely a
man who had four sisters could manage to fuse male practicality with female
sentimentality. “Okay. So we can dig the hole beforehand so it’s ready. Then
you can put it in there. Won’t be too hard even in a dress uniform. Lacey will
toss a little soil on it with a shovel.”

“And we’ll do it at the end of the night
so it won’t mess up any pictures if Lacey gets a little soil on her. Everything
goes to the cleaner afterward anyway.”

“All right. We’ll run it by Lacey. It
would be a nice end to the night. Beats the hell out of a garter toss.”

“Yeah. No garter toss,” Mick said firmly.
“With a bunch of SEALs, it could get violent. They’re kind of competitive.” Mick
pulled out another file and weeded through the papers.

Jack sealed up the cardboard box with
shipping tape. The tape still in hand, he stared blankly at the wall for a
moment. “Have you ever thought about getting out?”

“Out of the SEALs? Or out of the Navy?”

“Either.”

“Nearly every day since Lacey came
along.”

“Really?”

“That surprises you?”

“Hell, yeah. You’re a SEAL. You know,
“Ready to Lead. Ready to Follow. Never Quit,’” Jack prattled off the SEAL
motto, putting emphasis on the last two words.

Mick eased back in his chair. “I know. And
that motto must have been written by a single guy,” he laughed. “Seriously, I’m
33. That’s getting old for Special Ops. There’s always an end to the road. I
can’t imagine mine is too far away.”

“You could command. Be the next Captain Shey.”

“And have no one to go home to at night
like him? Hell no. Truth is, if Lacey said she wanted me out tomorrow, I’d be
putting in my paperwork within the hour.”

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah. And I’ve told her that. She says
she knows what she’s in for. But no one ever does. She can’t imagine what it’s
like—sending me off to war. Sitting by herself for the next six months or
year. Wondering every day whether a Casualty Assistance Calls Officer will show
up on her doorstep.” He shook his head. “No one knows what that’s like till you
go through it. And if we have kids? Christ, I don’t know how women do it.”

“But plenty do.”

“Sure, and they have my admiration. They
do. But in my team alone, I’ve seen plenty of damn strong women leave their
husbands because it’s too much to take. I can’t blame them at all. I’ve heard
people say afterward, ‘Oh, she knew what she was marrying into.’ But that’s
utter bullshit.” His shoulders slumped, as if remembering something bad. He
gave himself a little shake. “If Lacey decides she can’t take it, then I’m
out.”

“That shocks the hell out of me.”

“Shocks the hell out of me, too. But I
love her. And there comes a time when someone else has to play the cowboy.” He
set a stack of files in a cardboard box. “Why? Are you thinking of getting
out?”

“No. Just wishing there was some kind of
balance.” He moved the box to the lateral filing cabinet and started filling
another empty one. “I’m worried about the cancer, Mick. Shit. What if it comes
back and I’m away? I can’t let her go through that alone.”

“Well, if something like that happens,
you can talk to your CO and hope for emergency leave. But you probably won’t
get it if she’s just your girlfriend. You’d have better luck if you were
married to her.”

“You think I should marry her?”

“I didn’t say that. I’m just saying that
wives have a lot more clout than girlfriends as far as the Navy is concerned.
You know the deal.”

Jack sat back down in his chair. “It’s
too early to think about marriage.”

Mick scoffed. “I know you, Jack. You’ve
been thinking about it since that day Lacey called me up screaming in my ear
that you two finally had sex.” He shook his head. “My ear is still ringing from
that.”

“And that was barely a week ago.”

“A week. That’s already about a month in military
time.”

“Military time?”

“Yeah. Military time. Kind of like dog
years. I figure us military guys have less time stateside just because we’re
deployed so much, so it speeds up the clock. We have to make decisions faster. Make
use of our time dating more efficiently. Get married. Plan for kids during a
time when we can actually be around for the conception.”

“You’re such a romantic.”

Mick grinned. “You know me.” He shut the
empty drawer in front of him. “A week dating a military guy is like, say, four
weeks dating a civilian.”

Jack stared blankly, doing calculations
in his head. So he had waited thirty-two years to get Maeve back into his bed?
No wonder he felt so frustrated. Jack shook his head.

“What? It makes perfect sense,” Mick
said, taking offense at Jack’s reaction.

“No. I mean, yeah. It sort of does, Mick.”

“And hell, you’ve been seeing her at
least two or three times a week since I got back from Afghanistan last summer.
Right?”

Jack shrugged. “It’s different as
friends.”

“I’m not saying to rush anything. But
it’s not like we all don’t know where this is headed.” Mick angled his head.
“Or am I wrong?”

Jack didn’t mistake the mildly
threatening tone. Mick played the role of big brother to Maeve well enough. “What?”

“I mean, Lacey told me that Maeve can’t
have kids. And everyone within ten-mile radius knows that kids were next on
your check-off list.”

“Christ, Mick, what do you take me for? I
could marry any woman and find out that we can’t have kids. I might be shooting
blanks myself for all I know. I’d like to marry a woman. Not a uterus.”

 “Ugh. Can you cut the female organs
out of the conversation, please? We all didn’t grow up with four sisters.”

Jack narrowed his eyes, spotting Mick’s
vulnerability. “You’re such a pussy. You break out in a sweat if Lacey even
tells you she has cramps.”

Mick held up a warning finger. “Quit it,
Jack.”

“What’s the matter, Mick? Not comfortable
talking about ovaries?”

Mick lunged for him, capturing him in a
headlock. Jack sputtered for air, laughing as he struggled, forcing his chin
down till he flipped Mick onto the floor in front of him.

“Damn, Jack.” Flat on the hard floor, Mick
was all smiles. “That was actually good. You finally started learning something
from me.”

Still laughing, Jack put his head between
his legs, catching his breath. “Took me two years. You’re an asshole, Mick. But
I’m going to miss the hell out of you.”

“Me, too.” He raised an eyebrow at Jack,
watching him lift a box and head for the door. “But I’m dead serious. If you
break Maeve’s heart, then she’ll go straight to Lacey for support, and that means
I’d be the one stuck hosting an ‘I hate men fest’ on my living room couch. I’ll
kick your ass for that.”

Jack stopped in the doorway. “If anyone’s
heart gets broken in this picture, I have a feeling it will be mine.”

Maeve held Jack’s arm as he escorted her
to their seats in the Navy-Marine Corps Memorial Stadium—his left arm, as
he directed, so that his right would be free to salute.

“That security was crazy,” she commented,
knowing her eyes must have been saucer-sized from the chaos and excitement that
engulfed her since they had arrived to watch the mids graduate. Her own
commencement ceremony from design school, in a small performing arts center
tucked away in Greenwich Village, had been nothing like this.

“It’s always tight, but having the
President here to speak this year makes it a little harder.”

The President. She couldn’t help but be a
bit dazzled by the idea of seeing him first-hand. It didn’t matter which way
she leaned at the last election, usually flip-flopping between parties because
neither seemed to get much done. But something about being this close to the
leader of a world power was just humbling to her.

Yet she couldn’t help noticing that the people
around her seemed more excited to see their loved ones receive their diplomas
than to hear the President speak.

“It’s not just about the diploma,” Jack
explained, when she pointed out her observation to him. “They’re being
commissioned as officers in the Navy and Marine Corps. It’s a huge moment for
them, taking the oath to defend their country. And it takes four years of
grueling work to get to this point for them.”

“Do you remember yours well?”

“I remember every minute. Taking the
oath. I graduated with distinction so I was one of the first to get my diploma.
But it still seemed like an eternity till they got to my name.” He smiled,
remembering. “I’m not overly emotional, you know. My sisters would razz me too
much if I were. But I got seriously choked up. It changes your life.” He looked
at her meaningfully. “And then I met you that night. I remember every minute of
that, too.” He touched her knee, and she longed to kiss him, but knew that PDAs
would be frowned on in this environment.

A bugle sounded in the distance.

They stood, and Jack saluted as the
President entered the stadium to the sound of “Hail to the Chief.” She jumped
with a start at the sound of cannons firing. Jack held his salute until the
last shot was fired.

They remained standing as they sang the
National Anthem, then lowering their heads in prayer as the benediction was
given. Maeve could feel herself getting choked up, just as Jack had been so
many years ago, hearing the words of the chaplain, words that reminded her of
the risk that awaited every one of the mids who stood in formation in the
center of the stadium.

No, this wasn’t any ordinary
commencement. And none of these graduates were ordinary. What did it take, she
wondered? What was the calling that made someone raise their hand and
voluntarily serve their country during a time of such uncertainty?

Maeve glanced around her to the families
surrounding her. There was pride in their eyes. She looked for the worry that
she imagined she would feel, if it had been her child taking this path. But she
couldn’t see it. It would come later, she imagined.

The Superintendent spoke first, with
words even more inspiring, in Maeve’s opinion, than the President’s speech that
came later. Then the moment that brought tears to many of the family members she
saw, when the mids took the oath. First, the Assistant Commandant of the Marine
Corps administered the oath to those who had chosen to become Marines. Then,
the Chief of Naval Operations administered the oath to those becoming ensigns in
the Navy.

She glanced at Jack and his eyes were a
world away, as if he was remembering his own moment standing at the center of
the stadium. The words he had said then had shaped his life. Still wearing the
uniform, he would say the words again today if he were called to do so. He was
Navy, through and through.

The oath was completed by a rousing “I
do” from the Navy’s newest officers. They were mids no longer.

Maeve bit her lip, blinking back tears. She
didn’t know a single one of the new Navy ensigns and Marine second lieutenants there.
But she felt immeasurable pride in being part of this moment.

Yes, this was hell-and-gone from a normal
commencement. It should be a day of national pride. And…
Crap
. She
hadn’t even thought to put out her flag.

“You okay?” Jack whispered.

“I’m fine. Just feeling like I take so
much for granted.”

He looked like he was about to ask her
something, when all attention went to the Academic Dean and Provost as he called
the first name to receive his diploma—with distinction, Maeve noted just
as Jack had been. In his uniform, the young man shaking the President’s hand looked
so much like Jack that first time they had met.

Families and friends stood as their sons’
and daughters’ names were called, a Navy tradition to recognize their role in
supporting the new officers.

After the last name was called, they rose
again, this time to sing “Our Navy, Blue and Gold.” Maeve looked to her program
for the words, and sang it, completely off-key since she had never heard it
before. But in this enthusiastic crowd, no one would ever notice or care.

The crowd gave three cheers, and then she
saw it—the moment that she had seen captured in photographs so many
times. The new officers tossed their hats up into the air.

She couldn’t stop smiling.

Even an hour later, stuck in a mess of
traffic on the way home from the stadium, she still had a silly grin on her
face.

Jack glanced over at her at a stoplight. “So
I take it you enjoyed it?”

“Oh, Jack—yes,” she answered. “Do
you know how remarkable it all is? All the tradition and patriotism? Most people
never get to be a part of something so great, so huge.”

Jack nodded sagely. “There’s a heritage that
comes with being in the armed forces. You are taught to think of yourselves as
being part of a long line of history that started in 1775, before the Revolutionary
War even began. There’s pride there, but also all the pressure that comes with
it.”

“I can imagine.”

“How about we go to Eagle’s Point again for
dinner tonight? You’re all dressed up. I want to show you off.”

“Too expensive. How about O’Toole’s?”

“I don’t care what it costs. Besides,
anyplace closer to downtown will be packed tonight.”

“If you’re sure. But do you think we need
reservations?”

“I’m in uniform. Do you think they’d say
no to me?”

Maeve glanced over at him, looking
delicious in his Navy whites. “I guess not,” she agreed.

Lord knows she had no intention of saying
‘no’ to him tonight either.