The Marine's Holiday Harbor

by Kirsten Lynn

  “Five-thirty. Ella was having issues in the different house.”

  “Sorry I slept through it.”

  “I’m not. You needed a good sleep.” I rub my cheek against his, enjoying the burn of his whiskers before dropping a kiss on his cheek. “Now get dressed—Audrey is coming for breakfast.”

  The scowl returns tenfold. “My father?”

  “No, just your mom.”

  He scrubs his hands over his face and flings the covers back, swinging his legs over the bed. “Thank God.”

  I’ve patched him up many times, but there are some wounds he carries I can’t heal even if I want to with all my heart. “I’m sorry he’s that way to you.”

  He angles his face over his shoulder and winks. “Don’t worry, Angel, I’ve got what I need.”

  Climbing back on the bed, I kneel behind him and wrap my arms around his waist, resting my chin on his shoulder. For a minute I just let myself absorb being next to him like I did the night before, praying it wasn’t a dream that he was there and really wanted a life with me and two children. “Caleb.”

  “Hmm?”

  “I just like saying your name and have you answer.”

  “It’s outstanding having your hands on me again, your voice in my ear, the scent of you around me. Everything, Brynn.”

  It’s not so much the words, but the ache in his voice sharing all he’s been through on a journey back to me that tears my heart. I press my lips to his shoulder. “And not sewing you up?”

  His chuckle is low and rumbles like thunder. He’d make a good Santa Claus. “True. Though I can’t say I minded your hands on me then either; I knew you’d save my ass and anything else bleeding.”

  He breaks from my embrace, standing, and I examine him from head to toe and then back up. He’s beautiful in his ruggedness, like the rocks that break a storm’s rampage. But he’s so much more than a form to admire—he’s been a fortress, protecting anyone who needed him, including me. And watching him with the children…

  I’ve been warring with myself since the moment I agreed to the engagement. One voice screaming, I should hold onto the hurt and anger longer. I should make him crawl and beg. The other reminding me before there was the pain there was twenty-seven years of friendship and love; of shielding each other in the most dangerous areas of the world as the family the Marines made us. That’s what makes the betrayal all the worse, I rail back. But what time does one put on forgiveness? On friendship? On love? On hope? How long does society require my righteous anger, before I can admit the wound is fresh, but the healing is coming being with him again, or that I’m not ready to say New Year’s Eve is a hundred percent go, but I need his help with the children and I’m elated to have him home.

  Releasing a deep breath, I lift my gaze to meet his; a melding of ice and fire he used to say. “I love you, Caleb. I love you, but I’m scared.”

  He cups my cheek with a hand and I lean into the calloused warm flesh. “I know. We have a few weeks; don’t try to decide everything right now. Why don’t you head on down? I’ll be behind you in a few minutes.”

  Nodding, I slide forward and step off the bed. He starts gathering his clothes, deep lines forming on his forehead. “Caleb, what’s—”

  “Aunt Brynn! I need help!”

  I cut a glance to the closed door and back to him. He lifts his chin, pointing to the voice behind the door. “Go take care of Ella. We can talk later.”

  “We will talk later,” I promise before opening the door just enough to slide out, missing his mumbled response. “Ella, what did you do to your hair?”

  “I braided it.” Sighing at the rat’s nest posing as a braid, I take her hand and lead her to the guest room she shares with Michael. “I want to see Uncle Caleb.”

  “He’s getting dressed. You’ll see him at breakfast.”

  “You got to see him.”

  I sink into a purple chair and turn her around, trying to comb through the knot as carefully as possible. “That’s different.”

  “Why? Ow!”

  “Sorry, but you made a real mess. And it’s different like with your mom and dad. Sometimes adults need to be alone in a room.” I drop a kiss on her head. “Thank you for knocking on the door instead of just walking in.”

  “Welcome. Aunt Brynn?”

  “Yes, baby?”

  “Uncle Caleb, he’s staying?”

  “Yes, he’s staying.”

  I finally get her hair untangled and start braiding. “Forever?”

  “Yes, forever.” I lift my gaze over her head to meet Caleb’s as he leans against the doorframe.

  “Uncle Caleb!” The squeal of joy cuts through the conversation we’re having without words, and Ella breaks from my arms and flies into his.

  “Good morning, Little Bit.”

  Swooping her up, he starts “eating her neck” as her peels of giggles must echo through the whole house. Michael peeks into the room. “Nana says you need to come to breakfast.”

  Pushing out of the chair, I comb my fingers through the boy’s dark brown hair. “We better get down there then.”

  Resting my hands on his shoulders, I follow Michael down the hall with Caleb and Ella behind us. Family pictures line the wall from the three of us kids in Acadia, to Mark and Liz’s wedding, and Mark, Liz, Michael, and Ella in Acadia; Ella so small she’s in a carrier on her mother’s back. Liz seems to smile at me through the images, and I pray I’m doing right by her children. A stone settles in my stomach thinking of them as hers, but I shake the feeling away.

  “Can I tell you something and you won’t get mad?”

  I stop and turn the boy who seems much smaller than he did a few seconds ago, so I sit on my heels to meet him at his height. “You can tell me anything, Michael, anything.”

  He lifts his gaze to Caleb’s. “Can I talk to Aunt Brynn alone?”

  “Of course.” He walks around us taking Ella with him.

  When they’re on the stairs, Michael turns back to me. “Gramma fixed the eggs with the sauce. I told her I didn’t like them, but she said I had to try them. I told her I tried them before, but she said I needed to try them again.”

  “I’ll fix you scrambled eggs, okay? I’ll explain to Gramma.”

  “I don’t want to embarrass Uncle Caleb—she’s he’s mom.”

  “Sweet boy, you never could. He’s the one who told you to speak up.”

  “Dad didn’t like it if we talked back to Gramma. He got mad like Granddad.”

  I take a couple breaths; no use getting mad at Mark now. “I assure you, your uncle Caleb will not be angry. I am not angry.”

  “Okay.”

  “You just take your chair and I’ll take care of everything.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Opening my arms, I wrap him in a quick hug. Then, standing, I follow him down the stairs, unable to use the railing since Mom already started decorating for Christmas. Entering the dining room, I catch Caleb’s look and his raised eyebrow. Michael takes his seat like I told him.

  Audrey, dishing out the eggs benedict, glances up. “Good morning, Brynn.”

  “Good morning.” She reaches for Michael’s plate. “Oh, Audrey, Michael doesn’t care for eggs benedict. I’ll just scramble him an egg.”

  She pins Michael with a look before returning her attention to me. “I told Michael he needed to try it.”

  Straightening my shoulders, I take his plate from her hand. “He has tried it and he doesn’t like it. It’s no big deal.”

  “Brynn I—”

  “Mom, he doesn’t like it. No big deal, we’ll get him a scrambled egg.”

  She nods in agreement with Caleb, and I smile and take Michael’s plate into the kitchen.

  My mom and dad are gathering up the waffles and bacon. Dad’s gaze drops to the plate. “Something wrong?”

  “I’m making scrambled eggs for Michael.”

  Dad shrugs. “Okay.”

  Mom’s forehead wrinkles in disapproval. “Shouldn’t he e
at—”

  I hold up my hand, stopping her. “He doesn’t like them. He doesn’t have to eat them.”

  “Well, okay.” Mom and Dad share a look.

  Ignoring them I quickly stir up an egg. Taking the plate with the egg to him, I set it in front of him and drop a kiss to the top of his head. “There you go, sweetheart.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You want bacon and a waffle?”

  “Bacon, please.”

  Snagging a couple pieces, I put them on his plate, pour him a little more milk and then sit and fix my plate. Dad says the blessing and I roll my shoulders a couple times, relaxing when the grandmothers seem to let the whole egg thing go. I frown when I notice Michael won’t look at Caleb, as if he still believes he’d find anger there.

  Caleb seems to sense it too. For only being around the children for a few days, he doesn’t miss a beat. “Good job speaking up, Michael.”

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely. I’m proud of you. You were polite, but spoke up.”

  It was like he filled a balloon as puffed as Michael gets. He starts cutting Ella’s waffle and once again this all feels real, like we’re not playing a part and can really make this work…a family.

  Breakfast passes without the tension of Hal’s presence, or any questions about how I’m raising the children or Caleb’s sudden return. Pushing my empty plate to the side, I pour another cup of coffee and topped Caleb’s cup off. “Thanks, Brynn.”

  “Absolutely.” I toss him a wink just because I can.”

  “Can we go play?”

  He’s almost out of his seat already, I wipe Michael’s face with a napkin. “Yes, but don’t make a mess; we’ll be leaving soon.”

  “Okay.”

  He and Ella run back upstairs and the table falls quiet. The tick-tocks of the grandfather clock in the adjacent living room boom like artillery getting closer and closer. Audrey smiles at Caleb. “It’s good to have you home, son.”

  Mom, Dad, and I turn to Caleb anticipating what? I’m not sure. The silence cut only by what seems to be louder ticks and tocks beats for fifty seconds, according to the clock. All of us continue to wait for Caleb to respond.

  Caleb

  “Good to be here.”

  “I’m sorry about your father yesterday.”

  “Not your responsibility to apologize for him.”

  She exhales a humorless laugh. “I’m not apologizing for him, I’m apologizing for me, for allowing him to hate his son. I probably shouldn’t bring it up after a nice breakfast, but I shouldn’t have waited this long.”

  My stomach roils hearing my mother voice the truth of what I’ve known since I was child and each of my choices, every interest clashed with my father’s. I feel Brynn’s hand on my thigh, and while offering support, comfort, whatever her words from earlier still sting. She’s scared. Scared I’ll leave? Scared I’ll fail? Either fear, while understandable after what I did, stings. I thought we were on our way to building something together.

  Still, I grab for her hand like it’s my poncho liner on a cold night and feel her warmth seep into all the hollow places in my heart. “I appreciate you saying that, Mom, I really do. But if you mean it, then help Brynn and me change the course with Michael and Ella. Dad’s rules don’t apply to them.”

  When I hold her blue gaze, I see she understands I’m talking about more than eggs benedict versus scrambled. “Agreed.”

  “Then let’s move forward and not get stuck in the past.” I squeeze Brynn’s hand, letting her know I’m talking to her too.

  Mom nods. Brynn frowns. Both reactions are expected.

  Brynn’s father leans back in his chair. “I know we weren’t part of the conversation, but Rose and I want to add our agreement. To be honest, when Brian told us you were back and engaged to Brynn, we had our doubts. And we can be a bit set in our ways about how children should be raised. On the first count, we were wrong. On the second, we’re willing to step back and let you two raise the children how you see fit.”

  Frank’s first count solidifies what I already knew when I sent Brynn away that day at Bethesda. I would be hurting her family, as well. As a teenager, I always puffed a bit when Frank or Rose would say I was “like another son.” Today, I’m feeling more deflated.

  “Thank you Dad, Mom.”

  Brynn’s voice brings me out of my thoughts, and I clear my throat. “Yes, thank you both. Now, we better get cleaned up and back to the lighthouse, don’t you think, Angel?”

  We’re halfway standing when Frank waves us back down. “Well, that’s another thing, we wanted to ask if we could keep the kids today. Brian said he can bring them back home tomorrow late-morning after his shift.”

  I know my answer, but, like the day before, I hold back. “Did you have anything planned for today?”

  Brynn nods to the ceiling where there are thumps from small feet moving around. “No, no plans, but what about Ella?”

  I frown, not comprehending. “She’s staying here.”

  Brynn’s look says she’s about ready to send me to the corner to color while the adults talk. “She won’t want to stay if Uncle Caleb leaves.”

  The picture becomes clear without crayons. I can almost hear the toddler screams. “True, and she was forced from the house yesterday. Guess that’s a negative, Frank.” Rose stands. “Give me a minute.”

  She walks up the stairs, and my mom smiles. “Rose will have them begging to stay in seconds.”

  “Sorry we didn’t ask you, Audrey.”

  Mom shakes her head. “I hate to say it, Frank, but I don’t think the children should stay with Hal. He’s too hard on them and it makes it stressful. But I’d love to stay longer today and join you all downtown.”

  “Of course.”

  I share a smile of understanding with Mom. It must break her heart to admit her husband shouldn’t be around her grandchildren for long, especially as over the moon as she was when she found out she was going to be a grandmother.

  “Okay, they want to stay,” Rose announces and starts cleaning off the table.

  The rest of us join in to help. Before the children can recover from the mind-altering technique Rose used, Brynn and I double-time it. I hustle Brynn through goodbyes with the kids, instructions to the grandparents. We make it back to the lobster boat and out of the slip in record time.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Brynn

  Stepping aside, allowing Caleb to enter with the basket of leftovers my mom sent, I pull off my boots, coat, and hat. He sets the basket down and follows suit. I flip on the lights and stand still and listen. “It’s so quiet.”

  He sidles up behind me and rests his hands on my hips. “True.” A shiver walks my spine when he pulls back my hair and presses his mouth to my neck. “So, let’s make some noise.”

  Turning in his arms, I wrap my arms around his neck and lean close. “We should put the leftovers away.”

  His mouth lifts in a grin hot enough to raise the temperature in the whole state of Maine. I definitely want to start stripping off some layers of clothing. He tugs me flush against him. “After round one.”

  I brush a kiss on his neck and smile at the warmth radiating from his skin. He’s not the only one who can bring the heat. “How many rounds were you planning on Staff Sergeant?”

  “Brynn, I plan on being inside you all night and all morning. If you’re lucky I’ll let you up for water and chow a couple times.”

  Laughing, I nip his chin, then let out a yelp when he lifts my legs before pressing me against the wall. When he moves closer and pushes against me, nothing seems funny at the feel of his erection through his jeans. Our gazes collide and there isn’t one thing amusing about the fire in his ice-blue eyes. Without a word, we share the memory of our last deployment together and how Thanksgiving Day ended like this, only in a barracks on a military base.

  His smile returns to his full lips before he lowers his head, and I part my lips as he captures them in a kiss so tender I wrap my arm
s tighter around him and cup the back of his head. The gentle way he tastes me is full of love, but also an ache I can’t understand, and I feel the sting of tears in my eyes. Trying to heal whatever brings him pain, I kiss him with all my heart and smooth my palms over the rough hair on his head from his high-and-tight cut. Both sensations add to the burn for him.

  He brushes kisses over my cheeks. “What scares you so much, Angel, that you’re crying?”

  His words have the effect as if he dropped me in Penobscot Bay in January. I startle and gulp in air. “Oh God, Caleb, you don’t scare me. I know you’re here for good.”

  He scowls. “Then what scares you?”

  “All of it. Since the call after the accident, all my plans vanished, replaced with a vast unknown. I’m a mother of two and that frightens the hell out of me. I’m trying to get my nursing degree but don’t want the children to feel like I’m ignoring them. I know I should move off the island so they can go to school proper instead of Michael going to school online. And I was most frightened of your father trying to take them away because he didn’t like what I was doing. And I’m frightened that you’ll hate living in Camden, but do it anyway and never be truly happy.”

  “That’s quite a list.”

  I frown, but then cup his face. “It’s been nice having you back. No, check that, it’s been amazing having you back in my life. And to be honest, I still don’t fully understand why you let me go. I’m trying to keep the children happy, and now keep you happy. Then reality hits and I can’t heal everyone and there’s no triage for what’s bleeding. You know how much I hate that, and it scares me most of all because it’s what I do. If I can’t heal then why am I even here.”

  He jostles me until I wrap my arms back around his neck and lock my legs around his waist. The sparks in his eyes are back in full force. I don’t know how the man could keep that spark after so many deployments, and being wounded so many times. But they were there the first time I patched him up and taped up shrapnel in his leg, and he winked at me. Or when I knelt over him, plugging the gaping hole in his chest. Or the other night when he came to me in a Nor’easter. But then again those sparks were there when he leaned his hip against my locker when we were fifteen and told me he’d come to the conclusion we needed to stop fucking around with friendship and start dating. I suppose the sparks remain through it all like my faith remains after being at war for ten years. We’ve had each other, so there’s always been hope.