by GJ Fortier
She knew Ted was right. She had tried to resist Carla's approach at first. And then fencing with her had almost become a game. But more recently, she had begun to feel a bond with the woman who had tried so hard to be her friend. Cursing herself for getting emotional about the situation, she turned toward Rob. She knew he was preparing himself for the confrontation. He turned to face Carol across the yard, smiled and nodded. She knew it was time.
“Danny and Carla.” She said it again under her breath. Her expression then softened a bit. “What a shame.”
* * * * *
“HEY, DANNY.” ROB caught him as he was bringing a bag of trash out of the house through the open patio door.
“Yeah?”
“You and Carla got a minute?”
“Sure,” Danny answered. “Just let me put this in the trash.” Finally, we can get this over with. He was relieved at the opportunity to finish their business with Rob and Carol, no matter how painful it was going to be.
Carla heard the exchange, too. She laid the sponge that she had been using on the table and sat down as she noticed Carol walking toward her. Uh oh.
When the four were seated, Danny was the first to speak. “Before you get started,” he glanced at Carla, “we need to confess something.”
“Oh?” Rob sat back in his chair and laced his fingers over his mid-section. He looked at Carol. “Well, be careful what you say because 'when words are many, sin is not absent'.”
Danny uncharacteristically shifted in the chair uncomfortably. He was a professional. He wasn't supposed to get nervous. But this was a very different state of affairs than he was used to. He wasn't in his office. He had lied—even if it was a lie of omission. And worst of all, he had come to respect and admire Rob and Carol immensely.
Carla, seeing Danny's difficulty, spoke up. “We didn't get transferred to Charleston.”
“You didn't?” Rob asked as a smile grew on his face. Have they read my mind?
“No.” It was Danny again. “We've been on TDY.”
“Really,” Rob said flatly, his amusement growing.
Carol sat motionless and stone faced as she watched the three. She wanted to say as little as possible, letting the officers duke it out verbally if it came to that.
“Yes,” Danny said, not wanting to pass this responsibility on to his wife. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he glanced to Carol and then back at Rob and continued. “We were sent here to evaluate you. Both of you.”
“Evaluate us?” Rob feigned ignorance. “Evaluate us?”
“I'm sorry, Carol,” Carla said, looking at Carol. “We didn't have any choice.”
“We did have a choice.” Danny corrected her. “But …” He searched for the words. “Captain Walsh said that you and he were friends.”
“Captain Walsh?” The mention of his friend and mentor confused Rob. “Benny Walsh?” The last he had heard, the captain was at the Pentagon in weapons development. What could he have to do with this?
Danny nodded, affirming Rob’s question.
“We're friends.” Rob was somewhat on the defensive now. This was not at all how he had envisioned this conversation going.
Carla had a look of genuine remorse on her face as she searched Carol for some indication of her feelings. But Carol simply continued to sit silently as the conversation went on.
Danny continued. “We could have turned this assignment down, but Captain Walsh made it clear to me that it was something he considered very important. I think it was important for him personally, as well.”
Rob glanced over Danny’s head at the patio door. He saw Sack and his father there, watching as things unfolded.
Danny wanted to tell Rob that he was sorry. To explain that he had developed a deep sense of friendship with him. But he wouldn't allow himself to say the words. He had been ordered to do a task and he had completed that task. That was all there was to it.
Rob contemplated Danny's words for a moment. It made a boatload of difference that Benny was somehow part of all of this. In an instant, Rob was forced to alter his perspective of the past ten months, and of the couple sitting before him. He gathered his thoughts and organized them to a point where he felt in control again. He looked Danny in the eye and said, “We knew why you were coming here before you arrived.”
It was Danny's turn to be confused. He glanced at Carla who was looking at Rob in disbelief. Turning back to Rob, Danny started to ask how they could have possibly known, but Rob stopped him. “I've spent comin' up on twenty-four years in the Navy. I have friends all over the world, even Washington.” He looked the lieutenant commander directly in the eye. “I keep informed of what's happening, especially when it involves me.”
Danny accepted the statement as fact. He had come to know that Rob was not a man to make bold claims he couldn't back up. The only thing that confused him now was that Rob had gone along with the charade for so long. He furrowed his brow and asked, “If you knew, then why—”
“An instructor’s life can be a little …” He searched for the right word, “… boring.”
Again, Danny accepted the statement without question, but he became suddenly concerned that Rob might have been merely play-acting the entire time. He just as quickly dismissed the thought. Rob couldn't have possibly hidden his personality from him for so long. No. He gave himself at least some credit as a psychologist. He glanced at Carol, who hadn't moved. It was becoming clear why Carla had had such a difficult time trying to befriend Rob's wife.
Carla turned her attention back to Carol. “You knew?” She still held a look of disbelief on her face.
It was all Carol could take. She stood quickly and looked into Carla's eyes. “Don't you dare try to make yourself out to be the injured party here.” She stuck her palm in Carla's face and stormed off.
“That's not—” Carla started. After watching Carol walk off in a huff, she stood up and followed, calling after her.
Danny watched the two go through the gate and toward the front of the house. He turned back to Rob with a look of great concern on his face.
“I'll put twenty on Carol,” Rob said with a smile.
Danny briefly considered going after them, but Rob suddenly addressed him formally. “Lieutenant Commander Carter. Are you going to tell me what this whole thing has been about or—”
Danny held up his hands defensively. He stayed with the formality introduced by Rob with his answer. “Commander, I'm afraid I can't tell you any more than I already have.”
Rob looked at him doubtfully. “You can't or you won't?” There was just a bit of an edge to his voice. He was growing tired and wanted to end the conversation, but to his satisfaction. Danny wasn’t cooperating.
Danny sensed Rob's growing impatience and wanted to comply with his request. “We came here, observed you and Carol, and reported back to Captain Walsh. I don't know what this is all about.” He produced the envelope containing Rob’s orders. “But I think this might answer some of your questions.” With that, he handed the envelope to Rob and stood. He was satisfied that his job was done and all he wanted to do now was collect Carla and get back to Washington. To get back home.
Rob accepted the sealed envelope. He knew Danny hadn’t read what was inside. He doubted Danny knew any more than he had already told him. He stood up and faced the man. “You were following orders.” It wasn't a question.
Danny answered anyway. “Yes, I was.”
Rob studied him for a moment, and then he chuckled and said, “I'm impressed that you stuck with me during our workouts.”
Danny smiled. “It was challenging, I have to admit.” He tapped himself on the chest. “But I feel great.”
Rob furrowed his brow again. “You know, you're only supposed to do it twice a week.”
Danny laughed. “I know. I found that out six months into it.” He gave Rob a sideways glance. “Couldn't let an old man show me up.”
“Commander!” Rob shouted, suddenly serious.
> Instinctively, Danny came to attention, “Sir?”
Rob put his face threateningly close to Danny's. After a moment, he smiled widely. “I'm just messin' with ya.”
Danny relaxed. He was ready for a dressing down right there on the spot. But Rob was a man with a dry sense of humor. His deadpan personality, obviously gained through the close tutelage of his father, changed gears faster than a stock car driver at the Daytona 500.
There was an awkwardly long silence as they stood there. Danny sensed something over his shoulder, and when he looked back he saw Sack and Ted standing on the patio, looking his way. Suddenly looking uncomfortable, they turned to go into the house, closing the door behind them. Sack returned to the couch where Becca and the kids had passed out, and Ted went to the kitchen where Mary was finishing up the dishes.
Something Rob had said earlier suddenly popped into Danny's head. “Hey, what you said before, about too many words can be sinful, or something like that. That was a pretty cool line. Shakespeare?”
Rob smiled. “Nope. Solomon. Proverbs twelve nineteen. When words are many, sin is not absent, but he who holds his tongue is wise.”
“Huh,” Danny said.
There was a creeaak from the gate as Carol and Carla came back into the yard, arm in arm.
Rob watched them as he cupped his elbows and frowned. “That woman has a feisty temper, but she cannot hold a grudge.”
Danny mimicked Rob's stance. “Well, Carla can be pretty good at groveling when she feels guilty.”
“I've always found that groveling produces excellent results.”
“Jewelry works pretty good too,” Danny said with a straight face.
“Yeah, yeah,” Rob agreed. “Also, foot massages.”
Danny nodded. “I can see that.”
The girls saw them standing there and started to giggle. They joined the men again and the four talked for a few more minutes. Danny and Carla expressed their regret at having intruded on their lives. Carla vowed never to do this kind of work again. Carol asked if they could continue to be friends, and they all agreed. But this time, business would be business, and pleasure, pleasure. They were all disappointed when Danny announced that they were on a flight at oh six hundred the next day. So, the two couples said their goodbyes amid handshakes and hugs.
As they watched the Jeep drive away, Carol turned to Rob. “Becca kept asking everyone why Stacey calls you Rot.”
“What'd you tell her?”
She screwed her face up. “Nothing. That's a disgusting story. You or he can tell her that one.”
Rob thought for a moment. “Naw, it adds to my mystique.”
“You mean mistake don't you?” She turned and put her arms around his waist. With her face somber, she asked, “So, what’d ya find out?”
Rob reached for his back pocket and produced the envelope Danny had given him. He held it out for Carol to see. She had seen envelopes like it many times before. “CONFIDENTIAL: COMMANDER ROBERT ORSON TYLER, EYES ONLY.”
She looked at her husband. A tinge of disappointment showed in her green eyes.
Without a word, Rob used his thumb to open it. He pulled the documents out, unfolded them and read to himself.
“Please don't tell me they're sending you overseas again.”
Rob continued to read and then flip back and forth between the pages. Carol could see through the patio's floodlight that the first page had only a single short paragraph on it, but she couldn't make out the writing. The second page appeared to contain several lists.
“Okay, I won't,” Rob finally said.
“Then, what?” Carol asked, even more curious now.
“Looks like I'm going to Washington.”
Carol scrunched her eyebrows together. “State?”
Rob looked back at the first page. “D.C.”
“Washington, D.C,” Carol said incredulously.
“Yeah,” he said, looking at her disdainfully. “And goin' on a diet.”
11 Harry's Tap Room
6 July 2010
ROB WORE HIS WHITE C-class short-sleeve uniform as he stood in the midst of a grove of paper-bark maple trees. The warm wind rustled noisily through the leaves in the mid-afternoon of this overcast day. He was standing on holy ground outside the Pentagon close to the center of the nearly two acre Pentagon Memorial in Washington D.C.
He glanced at his silver and gold Seiko. It was just after fourteen hundred hours. He always found the white face and silver hands of this watch more difficult to read than the Luminox model 3001 he normally wore, especially in the light of the outdoors. But the Seiko was a wedding gift presented to him by his father. Thus, he treasured it and wore it only on certain occasions. He thought that his first visit to the Pentagon in over a decade was about as appropriate as occasions got.
The orders he had received two days ago simply read that he was to meet with an old friend, Captain Benny Walsh, at the Pentagon for a late lunch this afternoon. He had flown commercially out of Charleston that morning. After a quick stopover in Atlanta, he flew on to Baltimore-Washington International Airport where a young ensign, Bill Murphy, had been waiting to pick him up.
Although this would be a very short turn-around, he felt he should at least take a minute or two to see the memorial and pay his respects to the fallen while he was in town. The memorial had been dedicated and opened to the public on September 11, 2008, in remembrance of the 184 victims at the Pentagon who lost their lives in the September 11 terror attacks seven years earlier. The monument itself was situated at the southwest corner of the building near the highway interchange.
As Rob stood among the trees, he tilted his head back slightly and closed his eyes, listening to the breeze and thinking of the souls who had died that fateful day. As expected, unwanted memories intruded on his solitude. Memories that he tried to forget, but that still haunted him nine-and-a half years later. He had still been attached to SEAL Team Six then. In fact, it was his last operational assignment while in their ranks.
It was January 2001 when he and Sack, his long-time spotter and friend, had been sent on a covert mission to Afghanistan. They were there to monitor one of the possible hiding places of the man who was now, at present, the most wanted man in the world. Osama bin Laden. That day, bin Laden had been in the crosshairs of his scope. But the kill order never came and the man lived on. Rob was certain that bin Laden had been instrumental in the 9/11 terrorist plot. Would it have made a difference if I had killed the man that day? Could I have prevented that massive loss of life and chaos? In the moment they had been stood down, Rob had felt only relief. Relief that the burden of taking another life was lifted from his shoulders. He had made the decision to leave the SEALs because he had become a follower of Jesus and no longer wanted to kill for a living. But the unknown results of a task not accomplished had troubled him since that awful day in 2001.
And to add insult to injury, September 11 was his birthday.
Members of the intelligence community had assured him that it wouldn’t have made a difference if he had killed the terrorist leader that day. One of bin Laden’s lieutenants would have taken over the organization, and the attack would have happened anyway. In fact, it was later proven that the mastermind of the attack was not bin Laden at all, but a man named Khalid Sheikh Mohammed. Still, all of the reassurance had come after the fact. There was no way Rob or anyone else could be sure that events wouldn't have unfolded differently had he been given the order to carry out the mission all those years ago. If the U. S. military had ordered the kill that day, and thereby sent the message to all terrorists everywhere that they were at risk, that there was nowhere for them to hide—would that have changed the playing field?
Rob had since learned that no matter how much he wanted to stay in control of any situation, life was in God's hands and his alone. He even came to trust that he didn't have to understand. But the memories couldn't be put aside.
Bill was standing about fifteen yards behind Ro
b. As he watched the superior officer, he wondered if the commander had known the person whose monument he was standing before.
The monuments themselves were benches formed to resemble the graceful swoop of a gull's wing, arranged in rows according to the birthdate of the person it represented. There was one for each of the 184 people who perished on that day. Rob was standing in the row dedicated to the victims who were born in the year 1957.
The sound of a chirping robin perched on a nearby branch snatched Rob away from his thoughts. The red-breasted bird was happily singing, completely unaware of the significance of its surroundings. Rob considered that to be a good thing. Even after such an evil act, life continued in all of God's many wondrous creations.
Ceremoniously, he snapped to attention and raised his hand slowly to the visor of his cover in salute to all of those who had been honored with the sculptures situated all around him. After a moment, just as ceremoniously, he lowered his hand to rest against his thigh. He then looked down and read the name of the man whose memory the bench nearest him had been dedicated to.
Sergeant First Class Jose Orlando Calderon-Olmedo.
He didn't know the man. He knew none of those memorialized here. But he felt a kindred spirit with each of them, and a deep sense of indebtedness to both them and their families for the sacrifices they had made. He looked to his left and slightly behind. The benches had been positioned offset to one another. He read the name Sandra L. White. To his right, Patricia E. (Patty) Mickley. He considered reading the name on each bench to pay his respects to each person whose memory was honored here. But the sound of the ensign’s voice brought him back to the reality of his purpose for being in D.C.
“Excuse me for interrupting, sir.” Bill had moved up silently behind the commander. He spoke softly as he continued. “The captain is expecting you at fourteen thirty hours and it's nearly a quarter past.”
“Thank you, Ensign,” Rob replied.
He took one last long look around. “Rest easy, my brothers and sisters.”
With that, he turned and looked at the young man. “Lead on, McDuff.”
