Sweetheart for the SEAL

by Alexis Abbott

  “Wow,” she says, blinking. “That’s... a lot.”

  “I wasn’t about to just leave you to ride out the storm on your own,” I chuckle.

  “How’d you know I was here, though?”

  I was hoping she wouldn’t ask that. Just like now isn’t the time to think about her daughter, it isn’t the time to be explaining the big, stupid romantic gesture I tried to put in motion by surprising her with a visit.

  “Well, I-”

  I’m cut off by the sound of someone knocking loudly at the front door, or what’s left of it. My eyes snap down the hall, and I see a man standing there, sticking his head in.

  “Hello? Crystal, are you in there? Are you okay?”

  My jaw drops. I’d recognize that voice anywhere, and his face hasn’t changed much either.

  “Jake?” I call, and he freezes. He looks down the darkened hall, but just as he does, one of the lights flickers back on in the hallway, illuminating us. He looks confused for a moment, then his face becomes unreadable for another as he steps inside. Then, his face lights up.

  “Duncan?! Is that you?”

  I move down the hallway to meet Jake as he steps in, and I grab my best friend from high school in a tight hug as he laughs.

  “Duncan! Oh my god, man, of all the times... how are you here right now? Thought you were off being a big shot SEAL?”

  “Just thought a hurricane was a good time to drop in and say hello, make sure nobody’s drowning just yet,” I joke with a wink. “What about you? I thought you’d be out of here by now, the way you were talking at graduation.”

  “Hah, well, life ain’t always what you plan,” he chuckles.

  Jake Johnson was inseparable from me in high school from day one. We played sports together all four years, and half the summer jobs we took on were gigs we did together. In short, Jake is good people. He was never as ambitious as me, but I’m not going to fault a guy for that. Besides, Jake comes from money. He doesn’t need ambition. The guy has a trust fund bigger than some of the bills I’ve racked up on my missions over the years. That never got in the way of our friendship, though. Seeing him and Crystal here together at the same time feels like a blast from the past in so many ways, all of them making me wish there weren’t a hurricane over our heads.

  “We’ll have to save that story for later,” I say.

  “No kidding,” he says, looking past me to Crystal. “I heard the banging at the front door and wanted to come make sure you were okay. Everything good?”

  “Well, besides the fact that I’ve got the kids here stranded, I guess so,” Crystal says with a smiling yet sarcastic undertone. She turns to me and explains, “Jake lives a couple townhouses down from here.”

  “Just making sure maniacs like you don’t bust in,” he says with a chuckle.

  “Alright,” I say, “this is a hell of a reunion, but it’ll have to wait until after we get everyone to safety. Crystal, how many can we fit in your car?”

  She winces, which is what I was afraid of.

  “It’s a two-door sedan,” she says. “And I have car seats for the kids. That means I can safely fit three of them in there.”

  I can see by the look in her eyes that she’ll be firm about using the car seats, and frankly, I don’t blame her— they’re not even her kids, which means that if something happened to them that got them hurt, it would be even more devastating to everyone if it happened because we weren’t being safe with the seating arrangements.

  “Then I think I see what we need to do here,” I say, frowning. “But I don’t like it.”

  “I don’t follow,” Jake says.

  “There are four kids,” I say, nodding back to the bathroom.

  “Three from the daycare, plus Dakota,” Crystal explains. “And we need to get the kids out of here, ASAP. And I’m not letting Dakota away from me for a single second,” she adds, looking to me cautiously.

  “I’d never ask you to do that,” I say, shaking my head. “But we don’t have enough room for all of us.”

  “I’ll stay here with Crystal and Dakota,” Jake speaks up quickly, looking between both of us. “Dakota knows me, she’ll feel safer that way.”

  “That would be good,” I say, nodding to Crystal. “How do you feel about that?”

  She looks reluctant, and she bites her lip nervously.

  “These are my kids. I really shouldn’t be leaving them with someone else, even if it’s someone I trust. Maybe I should go, and we make two trips.”

  “The second the Coast Guard sees you, they’re not going to let you go back to the house,” I say. I recognize the look in Crystal’s eyes. It’s her instinct to take all the responsibility on herself as much as possible, including the blame when things go wrong. I have to reassure her that it’ll be okay, and I’m hoping the jarring shock of everything going on right now will at least make her more compliant. “I might have some sway with them. I’ll go make sure the kids are in safe hands, give the personnel the parents’ numbers, and they’ll be able to get calls out to them. How does that sound?

  She hesitates, but finally, her face softens.

  “Works for me,” she concedes with a relieved smile. She hurries over to the table and picks up a purse, digging through it and pulling out a set of keys and handing them to me as thunder rolls overhead again. She gives me a cautious look. “Are you sure about this? I don’t know how often you work with kids.”

  “I’ve got you covered,” I say. I look to Jake with a serious nod. “What about you, all good?”

  “Definitely,” he says with a thumbs-up. I nod.

  “I’ll be back in less than an hour,” I say, and I mean to deliver.

  Ten minutes later, the three kids are all in the car, fastened snugly, and Crystal is giving me a terrified wave as I pull out of the driveway. Her car is tidy, almost impeccably so, but there are still hints of her all around—the faint scent of her perfume, a hastily-hidden chewing gum wrapper, and a yoga mat rolled up in the back seat. It’s all Crystal, the same girl I left behind four years ago.

  “Are you a man or a seal?”

  I pause and slowly turn my head to look back at Grant, who’s peering at me completely seriously.

  “What do you think?” I ask him back as I pull out and start driving northward up the road. The rain is pouring down heavier now, and the windshield wipers can’t keep up.

  “Can you be both at the same time?” Weston suggests.

  “No,” Hailey says simply, but the boys seem to take the humble reply seriously.

  “I did make it here through a lot of water,” I say with a smug smile as I carefully drive around a series of branches that are strewn about the road. I see water gushing around the car as I drive it through a few inches of sea and rainwater, and I wonder how much longer this stretch of road will be passable at all.

  “What’s a seal?” Hailey asks.

  “It’s like a dog but in water! They’re so fat,” Weston says. This kid’s going places, I can tell.

  “A Navy SEAL is a little different from the kind of seal you see at the zoo,” I say. It’s a silly conversation, but considering how bright the flashes of lightning are against the black sky up ahead, it’s better than letting the kids cower in silence in the back.

  “How?” Hailey asks.

  “We’re not as cute,” I say with a chuckle.

  “Seals are ugly,” Hailey says thoughtfully.

  Ouch! What does that make me?

  Before I can come up with a cute reply, something catches my eye off to the right of the road. There’s movement, but something in my gut tells me something’s wrong. It’s too dark to see much, but lightning flashes long enough for me to see pale faces illuminated around the house. One of the men is holding a baseball bat in front of a shattered window, the other holding the crowbar that pried the plywood off.

  Looters? Already?

  As I drive by, I see one of them starting to walk toward the car, trying to conceal the baseball bat. I speed up, drivi
ng on the opposite side of the road and keeping a clear distance. Just as I’m about to pass him, he breaks into a run and takes a swing at the car. I hear a metallic clank and the sound of breaking glass as he gets one of the tail lights.

  I want to spin the car around and see how brave he is when I’m barreling at him at 40mph, but I have children in the car.

  I speed up and race down the road as fast as I can without scaring the kids. But as they go quiet, I start to think that damage was already done by the fucker who took a swing at us.

  “What was that noise, Mr. Duncan?” Weston asks cautiously after a few moments. I start to think up a cutesy answer, but instead, I decide to turn it into a teaching opportunity.

  “That was a man, Weston. Sometimes bad guys like to take advantage of bad situations.” I glance over at him with a serious look. “Don’t be a bad guy when you get older, okay? People should help each other out. Always.”

  The kids look thoughtful at that. Well, Hailey doesn’t, but she’s obviously the youngest, so she was busy looking out the window.

  Eventually, we make it to the roadblock. The men out there look like they’re fully aware of what a shitty post they’re working, but they’re determined to stay put. They flag me down before I’m even close enough to slow down. One of them marches up to my window as I roll it down, rain soaking me within seconds.

  “Sir, the roads are closed,” he barks as he approaches. “What are you-”

  “Master Chief Petty Officer Duncan Anderson, US Navy SEAL. I’ve got three kids from the daycare down the road,” I cut him off, flashing my ID with the SEAL notation. The young man raises his eyebrows and opens his mouth to speak before I beat him to it again. “I’ve got the numbers of these kids’ parents, and you’ve got the vehicles to get them to the mainland. I’m taking care of three more civilians. Are you qualified to get these kids where they need to go, or do I need to ask your CO why you’re holding me up?”

  Crystal

  The second I watch the door close after Duncan rushes out into the rain with the three children, I can feel my heart go flying out after them. Even though my own daughter is still here, safe with me in our home, I’m still petrified for Weston, Grant, and Hailey. They are all such good kids, and I spend so much of my time with them that I almost feel like they are at least partly my own children, too. I love them almost as much as I love Dakota, and the thought of my sweet little angels out there in the cold, pelting rain and the flashes of violent lightning makes me want to curl up on the floor in the fetal position and weep.

  It’s like three little pieces of my heart have just disappeared through the front door, which now sits crooked in its rectangular frame after Duncan shattered the locks. The guilt I am feeling right now is pulsating higher and higher, nagging at the back of my mind and threatening to drown my entire soul. These kids belong to me. During the work hours, while they are entrusted to my care, they might as well be my own children. I love them. I care for them. I teach them. I laugh with them, cry with them, help them through difficult struggles and celebrate their successes.

  When Grant finally overcame his (admittedly irrational) fear that a shark was going to come swimming out of the bathtub drain to chomp his legs off during bath time, it was cause for celebration. I hugged him and kissed his sweet little face, congratulating him on how brave and strong he was. When Weston managed to put together a big 150-piece jigsaw puzzle over the course of a week, I high-fived him and complimented his problem-solving abilities. When Hailey accidentally dropped Whailey in a dirty, oily puddle in the front yard, I held her and rocked her as she cried. The poor little thing was convinced that the gross puddle water had “killed” her best friend. Now, where she got that idea, I have no clue. But kids are often so much smarter and deeper-minded than you’d expect. I put Whailey in the washing machine, then tumbled him dry, and presented him to her good as new. That was another cause for celebration: Whailey had survived a near-death experience.

  I have watched these little ones grow, just like all the kids I look after at my daycare, and they are a vital part of my life. I can’t imagine seeing them hurt or lost. The storm has rendered our little town dangerous, with obstacles and closed roads and rough patches all over the place. It hurts my heart to picture them all huddled up in their respective car seats in my little sedan, all of them no doubt crying and whimpering in fear as Duncan drives them… to what? To safety?

  The evacuation centers are across town. Their parents are god only knows where. If I don’t have cell service, I’m sure Duncan doesn’t either. Besides, he doesn’t know their parents. Hell, he doesn’t even know the kids themselves. And that is why I feel so guilty. Am I a bad caretaker for entrusting these three innocent little souls to a man I have not seen in four years? Sure, he was a stand-up guy back then, but what if something has changed? What if the heroic, good-hearted, gentle Duncan I loved in high school is gone, to be replaced by some big, beefy mystery guy?

  Who knows what he’s learned, what he’s seen, what he’s had to go through since joining the Navy SEALs. I am so sure that he’s still the same guy, but maybe just tougher and stronger. Maybe even wiser, if he’s lucky. But what would their parents say if they knew I’ve just carted off their children with some near-stranger?

  Then again, if there’s anyone in the world I should be able to trust, it would have to be the father of my own child.

  I tend to be a very good judge of character, and I have never seen anything but goodness in Duncan’s eyes. He’s a prince charming. He’s a savior of the beaten-down and the broken. Even before he got all that specialized training and experience, he was a good man. Even at the age of eighteen, when most boys are just reckless, selfish bundles of hormonal energy, Duncan was so courteous and high-minded. He wanted to make the world a better place. He treated everyone around him with love and patience.

  And then there’s Duncan himself. I am terrified for his safety, too. Even though it has been a long, winding four years since he and I were last involved with one another, my heart still beats for him the same way. Every single day. I think of him all the time, so often that it’s less like a conscious memory and more like a constant underlying reminder. He never really disappeared from my life, not completely. And not for lack of trying, on my part. I never wanted him to feel tied down by me or by Dakota. All I want is for Duncan to be happy and successful, to live the daring, risk-taking lifestyle he always dreamed of.

  So I did my best to push him away, to keep my heart guarded by high fortress walls. I wasn’t going to let any other man get inside, but I knew I couldn’t hold onto Duncan either. I tried not to think about him. Especially during those early days, when Kota was just an infant. It was easier then, I’ll admit, to keep myself distracted. I had a newborn. She cried. She screamed. She nursed. She took up all of my time and all of my heart.

  I thought only of her during the days, and thoughts and worries about her consumed many of my nighttime hours, as well. But sometimes, still, when I would lie awake in my bed at night, just listening to Dakota softly breathing through the baby monitor, my mind would wander. And without fail, no matter how many forks in the road and no matter how many obstacles I set to avoid it, my thoughts would mosey on back to Duncan.

  I remember in high school when the two of us would meet up under the bleachers by the football field. Not to smoke or drink illegally like most of the kids who huddled there. We just wanted a quiet place away from the prying eyes of our parents, teachers, and other authority figures. A place where we could be alone. Specifically, alone together.

  We would hold hands and make out for hours, his hard athlete’s body curling around my much smaller, slimmer frame. He could kiss away every dramatic teenage worry that crossed my mind. When I tried out for the cheerleading team and didn’t make it, he was there to comfort me. Every year on the anniversary of my father’s death, I would hold in all my tears, all my emotions until I could get to those bleachers with Duncan. And then I would let it all out. H
e would hold me, promise me everything would be alright. He has always possessed an almost supernatural ability to calm me down and make the world seem a little bit brighter, more hopeful.

  No wonder I’ve missed him so much.

  And no wonder I feel so damn guilty for hiding the truth about Dakota from him. Sometimes, over the years, I would be overcome with the guilt. I would tearfully open up my social media accounts and search for Duncan’s name. There was never very much there— he rarely updated his feed. I would write out a long-winded message to send him, an explanation of why I’ve hidden Dakota’s existence from him, why I’ve never told him he’s a father. But at the last second, I always deleted the message. I let the moment pass.

  But now that he’s here in town, how can I keep it a secret from him any longer?

  Doesn’t he deserve to know?

  Would he hate me for hiding the truth from him?

  If the positions were reversed… if someone had hidden my child from me for almost four years…

  But what if I was right in the first place, that his life is better without Dakota and me to bog it down. He’s having the adventures he always wanted. He’s protecting our country! I could tell that much just by looking at him, by reading the history and memory in those gorgeous green eyes so similar to Kota’s eyes. How could I rain on his parade?

  I’m interrupted from my thoughts by a haughty, almost indignant male voice from behind my left shoulder. “What are you doing?”

  I gasp in surprise and swivel around to face Jake, who’s regarding me with a sort of an amused expression, his arms crossed over his chest. He tilts his head to one side and looks me up and down, grinning. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” he chuckles.

  I quickly force a smile and tuck my hair behind my ears— a nervous habit I’ve had since high school. “Sorry. I’m just anxious about Duncan and the kids,” I admit.

  Jake clucks his tongue with sympathy, only it doesn’t feel wholly genuine. “Ah, don’t worry about them. They’ll be fine. Besides, you’re safe here with me,” Jake says, waving his hand dismissively.