Treasure Island SEAL: Pirate SEAL Rescues his Mermaid (Sunset SEALs Book 3)

by Sharon Hamilton

  But now the living room was packed with brightly colored canvases depicting beach scenes peppered with colorful shacks and crushed shell trails. She was working on several at once, just like the history of her love life.

  “You’re going big, Mom. How long have you been doing these?”

  “I just started yesterday morning. I stayed up all night long painting. Remember when we used to have those marathons, honey? I’ve got my mojo back!”

  Madison didn’t cheer because she wasn’t sure where this was all going.

  “What brought all this on?”

  “I smell Fall in the air. I was feeling just a bit down, frumpy. Very low energy. It was like all the fun had been taken out of life. I got fed up and decided to do something I hadn’t done. So, I walked the neighborhood until I found inspiration. I went to the art store and bought all the large canvases they carried. Bought some new brushes and acrylic paints I’d never tried before. I was seeing flowers, pretty houses all in a row. This place I love.” She smirked at her daughter. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  “No, it sounds exactly like you, Mom.”

  “This house holds the soul of my life. I’ve forgotten to celebrate it lately. That’s what I’m doing now.”

  Madison was heartened with the news. Her mother wasn’t old, barely sixty, and was very attractive still, though her attractiveness was—yes, there it was again—in her irresistibility! She did have some of the sparkle back. As she thought about it, Madison had noticed some kind of glum smoke bomb hanging over her head lately.

  “I’m glad. I worried. You didn’t answer your phone this morning.”

  “I turned it off so I didn’t ruin the inspiration.”

  “Yes, well, your usual appearance last night at the Dog was missing. You were missed. Noonan missed you too.”

  “Noonan? Gosh, I haven’t talked to him in months. What’s he up to?”

  “He says he might have work for me. A special dive. I wish it was a film.”

  “Oh that was a once in a lifetime event, Maddie. Those are like glass ornaments on your Christmas Tree of life.” She picked up a brush and pointed to her. “Something to be celebrated!”

  Then Madison remembered Noonan’s words.

  “He had a message for you.”

  “Who? Noonan? I hope he’s not considering trying to court again. This shop is closed while I explore my new full throttle mojo experience!”

  Madison stepped closer to her mother and whispered, “He says someone special has passed. He said you’d know what that meant.”

  Chapter 5

  Ned gathered with several other members of their team at the Rusty Scupper, their local Team hangout. Kyle, his LPO, was present, along with Cooper and T.J., but all the other guys were single or divorced, so it was mostly an unofficial pre-bachelor party. One of the newbies had gotten engaged. The divorced SEALs gave him advice, since this was his first rodeo.

  One of the first things any newbie did when they came to the Scupper was check out the Wall of the Fallen, originally over the bar but now nearly covering the back wall—a private “meeting” room with pictures of campaigns and team flags and mementos. Ned always swung through there if it had been awhile, just to check out if something new had been added. Sometimes the pictures were hard to find, like the time he discovered the photograph of a warlord they’d captured that the military had tried and executed. His disheveled face, with his hands tied in front of him in a dirty, wrinkled shirt and his hair all askew looked completely different than the military man they’d seen on TV with his chest covered in medals he earned while slaughtering, not protecting his people.

  The room was a shrine to who they were and what they stood for. To the average person, it might seem like some kind of sick reverence, but for every one of these bad guys they’d captured or killed—which wasn’t the goal like it had been years ago—thousands of American and Allied soldiers would be safer, as well as scores more of their own citizens. It was for the little people they fought. Not for the big wigs. Not even the big wigs in the military. After all, they were a force for good. There were bad guys lurking in the halls everywhere.

  He took a seat at the table, which was already knee-deep in advice to the new groom-to-be.

  “Make sure she shows up at the bonfires, man. She needs to make friends amongst the wives, not outside, or you’ll have trouble,” someone said.

  Kurt, the newbie medic-in-training, looked no more than eighteen years old. His eyes were big, and his ears stuck out as if shaving had made them more prominent. Ned could tell he was nervous as hell about the wedding but even more apprehensive of the bachelor party these guys were going to throw.

  It was legend, but rarely occurred, that sometimes grooms were sent away the night before the wedding, drunk, with a one-way ticket to someplace in Alaska or Greenland. But just the fact that it had occurred once or twice, causing brides and her parents to have a reception without the groom, later to be followed up with a civil ceremony, made many of the young, newly-engaged SEALs worry. And the stories were embellished and expanded to such a degree that no one could remember exactly who these fiascos had befallen. They became things of urban legend, a weapon the older guys used to mess with the heads of the tadpoles.

  Coop decided to intervene. “Nah, kid, don’t listen to those guys. As a matter of fact, don’t listen to anybody who’s divorced or not happily married after a divorce. You’ll ruin your career and your love life if you spend too much time hanging with them.” He pointed to the other end of the table with his mineral water and lime.

  That caused a ruckus as the hardcore group objected.

  Ned sat still, not having much of an opinion, which Kyle noticed.

  “I’m sorry about your dad, Ned. Christy called you?”

  “Yes, she did. Thanks, Kyle.”

  “I was real sorry. I try to get to all my guys things like that, but the briefing in D.C. took longer. I’d have rather been at your side.”

  “No problem. I totally understand. I was there mostly for my mom anyway. My dad and I weren’t that close.”

  Kyle nodded, tracing the bubbles scurrying up the side of his beer glass. “A common reflection, Ned.”

  The two of them listened to more of the banter before Kyle added, “You did good over there this time, Ned. You’re turning into a lifer.”

  Ned shrugged. “Never thought I’d spend so much time in Africa. When I signed on, it was all Middle East stuff. Now, things have changed.”

  “The world is changing. We’re changing our focus as a country too. Personally, I think we’ll see more things in the Caribbean and South America coming up. I think the training missions are a complete waste of time, teaching the bad guys how to kill us best.”

  “I don’t miss those. Although, sometimes they were fun. I guess some people were just not meant to carry telephone poles and wade around in little boats.” He was referencing a group of young recruits from Greece who had gotten shipped into a BUD/S class and refused to do any of the hard labor, especially the twelve-man teams carrying telephone poles down the beach. They didn’t earn a Trident, just a certificate, but none of the men thought they even deserved that.

  “Wish I had some videos to show the head shed,” Kyle mumbled. Then he asked, “You plan on taking any time to do something special?”

  “Nothing planned as yet. I’m helping my mom get her place cleaned up. You know, get all my dad’s stuff out. It’s hard for her.”

  “I’ll bet. How long were they married?”

  “I think they were pregnant when they did, so I guess thirty-one or thirty-two years. At least thirty.”

  “Well, your mom will get on her feet. You’ll see. If they were happily married, she’ll get married again. Just you wait.”

  Ned chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “It’s a matter of perspective. Honestly, Kyle, my dad was an asshole. My mom loved him anyway. Through her perspective, they had the greatest love story in
the world.”

  “Yeah. I sure hope Christy doesn’t have to fantasize like that with me.” Kyle took another drink. “How about you, Ned? I never see you bring anyone to our gatherings.”

  He shrugged again. He was doing a lot of that lately. “I’m thinking I’ll be more like Tierney. Heck, he was older than me when he got married. Worked out okay for him. I think I might have to retire before I settle down. It would be complicated trying to have a family and do what we do. But that’s just me.”

  Kyle nodded again and then slapped him on the back. “Well, then you stay single, hear? We need men like you. And while you’re at it, keep an eye on Kurt here and make sure he doesn’t wind up on a detour flight with a couple of hookers. He doesn’t deserve that.”

  Ned chuckled again. “No one deserves that.”

  Although he’d promised otherwise, right after Kyle and Cooper left, he abandoned the bachelor group and headed for his condo. He was tired. But he knew it wasn’t from any physical workout or regimen. It was from a whole lot of emotional energy he’d expended taking care of his mom. She was going to need some assistance before he would stop worrying about her.

  Tomorrow, she was going to visit a new memory center that had been built just north of San Diego where patients participated in advanced clinical trials, the stay partially being underwritten by a couple of large drug companies looking for cures for dementia and Alzheimer’s. He was proud she was taking such a measured approach, and although she’d invited him to come along, he knew he would be more needed when it was time to actually take Aunt Flo there. He promised her that. This was something she had to do on her own, he said, and she agreed.

  All the boxes had been dropped off today at the thrift store and library. He washed his truck, went for a short workout before heading to the Scupper, and then decided to retire early.

  His condo was very sparsely furnished. He just couldn’t decide what to buy and the down payment on the place had eaten up all his enlistment bonus, which left him with just a thin margin of savings. Like his old place living at home, his focus was never inside his small space, but outside. The reason he’d bought the condo was because it had a view of the water. A tiny sliver, but a view anyhow. He’d paid a twenty thousand dollar premium for that view. And he loved the bright orange and pink sunsets.

  He grabbed the book he’d brought from his mom’s house, slunk back into his couch, and propped his feet up on the coffee table.

  The small paperback was dog-eared. It looked like some do-it-yourself publication without a lot of fancy embellishments or anything on the back cover but another picture of a long, white sand beach.

  ‘Gifts From The Sea’

  He read farther, ‘A compilation of short stories and poetry from the Gulf Coast.’

  Ned knew his dad had a friend who lived there still. He was the buddy who had partnered with him that day when his dad found the pendant. Ned had been to several trainings on the east coast of Florida, probably near the old Spanish Galleon wreck they’d explored. He remembered seeing a map of the coastline littered with wrecks, some of them with undiscovered treasure. His dad told him he loved it there. Ned wondered why the family hadn’t moved to Florida, since it would have been so much less expensive.

  But for some reason, Pirate Jake stayed away and let himself go.

  Inside the back cover flap was a picture of a group of young people standing in a cluster with parrot drinks in their hands, toasting the camera. On the photo credit, Ned saw his father’s name.

  ‘Photo courtesy of Pirate Jake Silver.’

  Suddenly, Ned was interested. He flipped through the pages, letting his fingers smooth over the paper, scanning the short stories and poems written by different people with names he didn’t recognize. He came to a page that had been folded over.

  ‘Amberly’

  It was written by a man named Darrell and was a glowing, gushing description of a woman named Amberly who had captured his heart. He described her swimming through the water and lying in the sand. Without being overtly sexual, it was a passionate piece and hinted of deep intimate knowledge. He likened her to a beautiful mermaid he could never capture.

  Ned knew his dad liked this piece. He wondered if this was his dad’s mermaid as well, the secret love he’d whispered about so long ago, embodied and captured in the silver pendant that was the only thing his dad had given him unselfishly.

  He glanced at other poems and saw one written by Amberly Drake.

  I am following so close I fear you’ll see me,

  And the secret love I hold will be revealed,

  Before I can even bring the words to my lips.

  Is it true that you can fall in love,

  The first time you look into someone else’s eyes,

  And feel their soul meld with yours?

  As one who is used to seeing the door close behind those I’ve loved,

  This time it will hurt.

  Forever.

  Chapter 6

  Madison hadn’t wanted to leave her mother, but she was due to be at work, and they’d had several no-shows lately with the wait staff.

  Her mother’s face had gone from a look of pure delight to that split-second expression of horror, followed by her quick adjustment as she donned her mask and covered up all feeling, which wasn’t her usual style. Madison knew it was self-preservation. No amount of inquiry would bring out what her mother wouldn’t tell her. It was hard to do, but she had to be good with it. Her mother promised she might stop by later on and asked if she could tell Noonan to look for her.

  It was past the lunch crowd, a lull before the early diners, usually older patrons, came for the seafood specials. Washington Jones was meting out his private brand of fear on the younger Latino kitchen help, working his way through the usual turnover statistics. With the clanging of pots and pans and shouts, it was murder and mayhem in that hot little kitchen—barely big enough for Jones’ girth, let alone other man-boys trying to avoid crashing into him with their platters of food prep.

  The sounds were oddly calming. Normal life.

  She stocked the bar, and wiped down the countertop and all the stools again, even though it had been done by the previous crew. She cleaned all the tables and cleared someone’s salad lunch that had been forgotten. All of this felt like gardening, painting, or walking along the beach, these simple routines that gave her time to think. Funny how cleaning up someone else’s mess was soothing to her, but it was.

  There was a new musician playing tonight, and he came in early to make sure everything was set up properly so he could start at five. He’d come highly recommended by a friend when they watched him perform at another crabby joint along the peninsula.

  He was tall and extremely handsome, slightly older with grey hair at his temples. His quiet demeanor and wonderful manly scent didn’t overpower her. It did make her long for the arms of someone who could cherish her, even if it was for one night.

  His sly smile and dimpled chin were disarming, not that she was putting up any resistance.

  Garrison Cramer was a born horse trainer, if there ever was one. Her heart raced, and she tried not to let their eye contact linger or he’d get the message she wasn’t ready to deliver.

  “You get a big crowd on Fridays?” he asked as he set his guitar against the stand.

  Madison had been re-wiping the tables out on the patio near his “stage” right in front of the dartboard and several other children’s games.

  “Yes, it’s one of our busiest. But this time of year, the snowbirds haven’t returned, so it’s mostly locals getting their fill of the nice beach vibe after the craziness of the summer, and before the craziness of the holidays.”

  “That mean you’re local?”

  She held out her hands, one clutching her wet rag, the other with her spray bottle of cleaner, “That’s me. Born and raised.” She wanted to ask where he was from but pegged him for some place in the South. He didn’t have a Florida accent, and he definitely wasn’t Texas.<
br />
  “Good to know.”

  Okay, dammit. She had to ask. “You’re from Tennessee, North Carolina or—”

  “All over. I’ve lived in Nashville, Memphis, Mobile, Atlanta—you name it. I’ve played there.”

  She decided to give him slight encouragement and just play it out. “One of the original rolling stones, then, is that right?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said softly.

  His words hit her chest like the gentle gulf wind. Then he raised the stakes.

  “At your service.”

  He probably noticed she’d grabbed a plastic menu and fanned herself. She couldn’t look him in the eyes any longer because it was going too fast. But that had never been a problem before. This quiet man was taking full control.

  “More of that where it came from, darlin’.”

  Her little smile was pathetic. “I’ll bet. Well, you make a helluva introduction. Don’t you give a lady time to adjust herself?”

  He slowly perused up and down her body and whispered, “No adjustment needed. But I would like your phone number, if you don’t mind.”

  That was a little over the top, and she needed the breather. “How about we settle for a crab salad, as promised and on the house, and then we can take care of that business later?”

  “Suits me fine. Am I allowed a beer? Just one?”

  “Monty has a policy he allows one an hour, but if you fall off that stool, you’re done.”

  “No problem. I’ll be in full control.”

  I’ll bet.

  She turned to go when he called after her. “By the way, I’m Garrison Cramer. And you are?”

  “I’m Madison.” She turned quickly before her cheeks flamed further and heard his soft whisper behind her back.

  “Of course you are.”