The Lost Seal
A Seal Romance
Victoria Bell
The Lost Seal
Copyright 2017 Victoria Bell
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to a person, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
WARNING:
Due to mature subject matter, such as explicit sexual situations and coarse language, this story is not suitable for anyone under the age of 18. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older, and all acts of a sexual nature are consensual.
Prologue: Helmand Province, Afghanistan - 2011
“Is that rain? Like real rain or are we dead, and this is the best version of heaven we can hope for?” River asked, awe in his voice.
Jude looked up at the sky and blinked suddenly as droplets hit his face unexpectedly.
“Holy shit! It IS rain!” he declared, jumping to his feet and running around like a dog chasing its tail. “It’s rain! From the sky! The tears of God are falling on us in the shithole! Hallelujah!”
River chuckled, removing his helmet to watch his comrade dance around like a fool. He didn’t blame Jude for his over the top reaction; it had been weeks since they had seen any sign of precipitation.
“Two more weeks to go. This must be a sign from God,” he told Jude, shaking his head. “Good things are coming.”
“After how many bullshit tours in this country? Good things better be coming,” Jude muttered. “R and R is not what it used to be, am I right?”
The other members of their platoon nodded, muttering in agreement.
“We’ve been at war for eight years,” River replied optimistically. “How much longer can this go on, really?”
“You’re jinxing us with your sunshine and butterflies bullshit,” Jude muttered. “Stop talking.”
But River couldn’t keep his mind from traveling home to Vermont where his life was waiting for him.
Two more weeks and I’ll be on a plane back to the States where my girl will be waiting for me, and I’ll be home just like I promised her, River thought smiling.
His happiness was short-lived, and they jumped to attention as Captain Briscoe appeared, his face contorted in concern.
“We have movement across the way,” he told the squadron.
“What kind of movement?”
“I don’t know,” Briscoe snapped. “Wait for your instructions.”
“Everyone should have evacuated,” Jude muttered angrily. “Goddamn insurgents.”
“We don’t know they’re insurgents. Don’t make any rash moves, men.”
They fell into line, reaching for their weapons and River eyed his companion warily.
“Jude…” he whispered. “It could be anyone.”
“You know full well it isn’t a bunch of imams praying, Cortez. Shut up.”
“You heard the captain.”
“We’re going to kill those – “
“Galvin!” Captain Briscoe snapped at Jude. “Head up and shut up.”
The men fell silent and waited for instruction, but River had a terrible sense of foreboding as he felt the almost palpable hatred emanating from Jude.
He’s going to get us killed one day, River thought, the adrenaline pumping through him as they ducked against the whitewashed walls of the Qalla.
Slipping into the foreign rain of the arid land, River had no idea how prophetic his words would be.
Chapter One: Manchester, New Hampshire - Present Day
She was having one of those moments again, and she willed herself to be calm as she stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror, her heart racing wildly.
Looking back was an attractive woman in her late twenties with a mass of auburn curls and intense light brown eyes. A sprinkling of freckles tickled her nose, and if she were to smile, she would have seen a cute beam aligning a dimple on each cheek.
But she couldn’t smile. She didn’t recognize the woman staring back at her.
You are Marseille Galvin, the same woman you’ve always been.
It wasn’t true though, not really.
She wasn’t the same woman she’d always been. Something had changed over the years, something she couldn’t quite pinpoint.
“Babe, are you almost ready?”
His voice snapped her back to attention, and she wrenched her amber eyes away from the mirror.
“Yeah,” she called back. “Just grabbing my purse.”
Marseille grabbed her handbag from the dresser and hurried out the door to meet her husband who waited impatiently in the foyer.
“We’re late,” Jude told her flatly, and she could read the displeasure in his blue eyes, but she offered him a disarming grin.
“Is that such a bad thing?” she teased. “Since when are you in such a rush to see my family anyway?”
Jude scowled slightly and turned his blonde head so she could not read his expression, but his displeasure was clear.
“I just hate being late,” he muttered. Marseille had already known that would be his answer.
Getting him to smile seemed more and more difficult as the years passed but it didn’t stop her from trying.
“I know, hon,” she sighed, struggling to keep the exasperation from her voice.
Dr. Rainier had told her it would take time, but Marseille no longer knew what that meant.
How much time? Which one of us needs time? What is time?
She was having an existential crisis as she stared at Jude.
She forced herself to abolish the carousel of questions and follow Jude out of the house.
It's Sunday. Give your psyche a break for one day.
“Did you feed Marcus?” she asked suddenly, and Jude whipped his head back to look at her.
“Seriously?” he demanded. “You didn’t feed the damn dog?”
Marseille shrugged and turned back to the house.
“I’ll do it now,” she replied easily, determined not to let his foul mood affect her that day.
He’s already stolen too many happy moments from me, she thought, making her way back through the front hallway toward the kitchen. Guilt washed over her.
He's also made my life a lot less miserable than it could have been, she reminded herself. The only reason she could attend the weekly dinners was that of Jude’s willingness to relocate to New Hampshire where she could be near them.
Marcus tailed after her happily, his long black tail wagging as he realized he had not been forsaken in the Sunday dinner shuffle.
She laid out the food for him quickly, almost feeling her husband’s ire radiating toward her despite the distance between them.
“See you later, boy,” she told the canine, scratching his sleek head as she left. Her eyes caught a picture sitting on the buffet in the dining room, and before she could stop herself, Marseille slid toward it, lifting the silver frame to her eyes.
We looked so happy there, she thought wistfully, her golden-brown eyes misting with tears slightly. Or did we?
There was an unmistakable sadness in her expression, even on what was supposed to be such a happy occasion.
Marseille peered at the flowing white gown and pearls around her neck, apparently a Galvin heirloom.
&nbs
p; “They belonged to my mother, and if she was with us, she would have wanted you to have them,” Jude told her. “I know she is smiling down on us today with my dad.”
Jude looked so handsome in his tux, his hair just outgrowing his army crew cut, so the sunlight caught the hints of platinum. They stared into each other’s eyes, Marseille’s manicured hand on his cheek but again, she was overcome with the sense that she didn’t know the woman in the picture.
What is wrong with me? She wondered. Where is all this coming from lately?
She had no answer.
It wasn’t as if Jude had become much worse. He seemed to maintain the same level of aloofness he always had since coming home.
Maybe I’ve changed, she thought.
“Mars, what is going on with you today?” Jude grumbled, strolling into the dining room. “We’re already late.”
She glanced at him and showed him the photo in her hands.
“Look how young we were,” she sighed. “Were we ever this young?”
Jude’s face seemed to soften as he realized what she was staring at.
“Mars…”
“We should go on vacation,” she said suddenly, and he stared at her, his brow furrowing.
“Mars, I just started a new job. The last thing I can do is take time off. You know that.”
She sighed deeply and replaced the picture on the buffet.
“I know.”
He embraced her, and she buried her face in his broad chest, blinking back the tears in her eyes.
“You know what we need to do,” Jude told her tenderly. She knew exactly what he was thinking, but the idea filled her with inexplicable dread.
“Not yet,” she murmured. “Soon.”
He set her back, his cerulean eyes flashing with annoyance.
“When? You just said we’re not getting any younger,” he snapped. She cringed at his tone.
That’s not what I said, she thought with a flash of irritation, but she did not speak it aloud.
“I’m not ready yet,” she breathed. “I’m just not.”
“No one is ever ready,” he told her flatly. “If you’re waiting for some sign from God, you’re a fool.”
Marseille bristled at his tone, and she pulled completely from his arms.
“Let’s go. We’re late remember?” she muttered, not waiting for his response.
Jude grunted and followed after her, mumbling something she couldn’t make out.
Jude unlocked the Toyota Camry, and they climbed inside, neither looking at the other.
Marseille’s cell chimed, and she reluctantly looked at the message from her brother.
She typed back a response.
“See? Now they’re annoyed with us.”
I’m annoyed with us, she thought, but she did not respond, turning her reddish-brown head to stare out the window.
“Mars, we have to talk about this sooner or later,” Jude finally said after a few miles had passed. “Why are you so reluctant to start a family?”
There were so many answers to the question, some of them accurate but most of the arguments he had heard have been disregarded before.
How can I explain to him that it doesn’t feel right? She thought. It’s never felt right.
“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” she replied.
“You never want to talk about it,” Jude retorted. “You’re just a fountain of elusive silence, aren’t you?”
“Really? Do you want to start a fight before we get to my parents?”
“I am not starting a fight,” he groaned. “I am trying to get you to talk to me like I’m your husband for once. We’ve been married for five years, Mars. It’s about time to have kids, don’t you think?”
“I told you what I think,” she growled. “You’re just choosing not to listen.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his jaw lock, and she wondered how much further he would push the issue.
As they exited off Interstate 93, Marseille could feel the tension mounting in the car, but she began to breathe easier when they turned onto her family’s street.
“You think I don’t know what’s going on here,” Jude said, pulling into the driveway beside Drew’s truck. “But I am not stupid, Marseille.”
A fission of apprehension passed through her body, but she didn’t answer, quickly exiting the car before her husband said another word.
Of course, he knows. He’s always known.
What she had never understood was why he had married her in the first place. Or why she had agreed to marry him.
“What took you so long?” Patricia Hempsley demanded, crossing her arms over her wiry chest in annoyance. “We’re running out of propane waiting for you.”
“That’s why you should use charcoal,” Marseille quipped, kissing her mother dutifully on her cheek. “It’s better for the environment.”
Pat grunted and glanced at Jude who was lingering by the car.
“Are you going to come in anytime soon?” she yelled at her son-in-law. “Or do I need to roll out the red carpet for your arrival, your highness?”
Marseille rolled her eyes and scooted past her mother to enter the house.
She didn’t need to be party to any condescending exchange between Jude and Patricia. It was nothing she hadn’t heard a thousand times before. There was an underlying animosity between her family and Jude, something which Marseille was not entirely sure she understood.
She made her way into the backyard, tuning out Jude’s response to her mother’s caustic remarks.
“Honey!” he father called happily as she walked through the back door. He dropped the tongs onto the barbecue rack and rushed forward to envelop her in a warm hug.
“Hi, daddy.”
His kisses warmed her face, and she smiled. There was nothing like a father’s affection to wash the melancholy from her soul.
“It’s about time,” Drew growled from his spot by the pool. Marseille could see he was already a few beers in by the glazed expression in his brown eyes.
“Hi brother,” she replied dryly. “Hey, Sylvie.”
Sylvia barely glanced up from her cell phone to acknowledge her sister-in-law.
“Where are the kids?” Marseille asked.
“Napping,” Joel Hempsley replied, returning to his steaks. “They were asking about you.”
“Sorry we’re late,” Marseille told him apologetically, but Joel didn’t seem to care.
“Are you late? It’s Sunday. No one should ever be in a rush on God’s day.”
Marseille glanced up as Jude and Patricia entered the backyard. Like a switch had been flipped, Joel’s pleasant demeanor disappeared, and he eyed Jude coldly.
“Jude.”
“Hi, Mr. Hempsley.”
“There’s beer in the cooler,” Joel told his son-in-law. “But I would appreciate it if you kept it to a minimum. The twins are here.”
Marseille bit on her lower lip and glanced at her husband as his face turned crimson. Immediately, she jumped to Jude’s defense.
“I guess the same goes for Drew then?” she piped up sarcastically and her brother scowled.
“It wasn’t me who ended up telling racist jokes last week,” Drew snapped and if possible, Jude’ face grew redder.
“I’m not drinking,” Jude muttered. “But thanks.”
“Well thank God for that,” Pat announced. “Are you on the wagon then?”
“Jude is working tomorrow,” Marseille volunteered. “He needs to be bright eyed and bushy tailed at five a.m.”
Joel and Pat’s eyebrows rose in unison.
“They moved your shifts to day shift?” Joel asked, closing the lid to the barbecue and Marseille lowered her eyes.
She hadn’t told her family that Jude had changed jobs again.
“No…” Jude was looking to her for help, but Mars suddenly found fascination in a spot on the table where she had taken a se
at beside Sylvia.
“You got fired again, didn’t you?” Pat commented, sighing heavily.
“I didn’t get fired!” he snapped hotly. “I changed jobs because –“
“Let me guess,” Drew laughed. “They were a bunch of idiots who didn’t know anything.”
“No, no!” Pat interrupted. “It’s because they didn’t appreciate all of the hard work he did.”
“I bet it’s because he’s so much smarter than anyone who is stupid enough to take a chance on him,” Drew countered.
The family smirked at Jude and Marseille was filled with a sense of protectiveness.
“Instead of being a bunch of judgemental know it alls, why don’t you let him explain,” she shot back.
Jude scowled hotly at them, including his wife.
“Obviously they don’t give a shit,” he snarled, whirling toward the entrance.
“Language, Jude!” Pat yelled, either oblivious of or uncaring of the mounting tension. “We just told you the twins are here.”
He didn’t respond, his back to them and Marseille felt a stab of concern.
“Where are you going?” Marseille called after him. She cast a scathing look at her family who seemed satisfied with the reaction they had inspired, but Jude did not head into the house. Instead, he turned to the cooler and wrenched a cold beer from inside.
“Jude…” Marseille said softly. “You don’t need –“
“Don’t tell me what I need!” Jude shot back. “I told you what I need, and you don’t care about that.”
Drew and Pat glanced at her.
“What does he need?” Drew asked, and Marseille gritted her teeth.
“This is not the place for this,” she hissed at her husband who cracked open the beer can and took a defiant swig of his drink.
Crap, she thought, feeling defeated. It’s going to be one of those days.
“It’s never the goddamn time for it, is it, Mars?” Jude laughed mirthlessly.
“What is going on?” Joel interceded, finally recognizing that the family dinner was about to take a nasty turn.
“Nothing!” Marseille replied shortly. “It’s – “
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