Sign, SEAL, Deliver

by Rogenna Brewer

  “Turn that off,” his mother said.

  “It’s okay,” Zach said. “I’m over her.”

  “Of course you are,” his mother agreed. “Oh, here are the pictures of rock portage.” His mother handed him the package. “I had them developed at a one-hour photo place.”

  “You mean you didn’t develop them yourself?”

  “My equipment is at home. Thought you might like to see them right away.”

  “Okay, Mom, I’ll bite. What’d I do, fall flat on my face in the sand?” He flipped through the photos, looking closely at each one for his snafu.

  Him in a raft.

  Him in a raft.

  Him out of the raft, waist deep in water.

  Him falling flat on his face in the sand.

  Woman at the rail…watching him fall flat on his face.

  “Michelle was there?”

  “We promised not to say anything. Pictures are worth a thousand words though, don’t you think?”

  “Where is she now?”

  His mom shrugged. “We’ll understand if you can’t make dinner tonight.”

  “Right. I’m keeping this one.” Zach dropped the rest of the pictures and bolted for the door. He stopped at the front desk long enough to ask if they had a guest by the name of Dann. She’d checked out that afternoon.

  Zach tipped the valet. But sitting behind the wheel he realized he didn’t have a course of action.

  Should he crawl back because she’d crooked her finger? He was the injured party here, and he was still pretty damn mad at her. Besides, she’d made it clear that the engagement was over.

  To be fair, she hadn’t exactly crooked anything. And he knew she’d ended the engagement because she thought he’d want that once he found out she’d lied to him.

  And she had lied to him.

  But did that really make everything that came before and after a lie, too? Didn’t he owe it to himself to find out?

  I was scared. We were stupid.

  She’d wanted to see him today. But she hadn’t wanted him to see her. Did that mean she still cared?

  This line of thinking was driving him crazy…. For once he wasn’t going to try to second-guess her needs.

  He knew what he wanted. Why not go for it?

  Why not? Well, he would piss off just about everyone he really cared for.

  Of course, everyone who really cared would understand, eventually. Zach pulled away from the hotel with purpose. He knew exactly where he was going and what he’d do when he got there.

  Several minutes later Zach pulled into the training facility and parked near headquarters. Floodlights illuminated the grinder. The place they’d drilled day after day. But with most of the guys out partying, the barracks were quiet. The cable of the empty flagpole marked time until morning with a steady clink.

  Next to the flagpole was the bell.

  The ringing of the bell sliced through the night.

  The few trainees and instructors still hanging around came running. Hell Week was over. Who’d quit now?

  And why?

  2315 Sunday

  DANN FAMILY ESTATE,

  Middleburg, VA

  FORTY-NINE HOURS and three minutes after ringing out of SEAL training, Zach rang the doorbell to the Danns’ home. He expected the maid, but the admiral opened the door, wearing a bathrobe and a scowl.

  “I drove straight through,” Zach offered in an attempt to apologize for the lateness of his arrival. He could have flown, but the road trip had given him time to think about this moment. And he’d decided to get it over with rather than wait until morning.

  “I can see that. How many speeding tickets did you get?” The admiral’s gaze shifted to Zach’s loaded car.

  “Pulled over once, out West. No ticket,” Zach answered sheepishly because the highway patrol officer happened to have been a woman. “Would you mind putting me up at the guest house for a couple of weeks?”

  “You’re always welcome here, Zach. You know where we keep the key.”

  “I appreciate it.” He brought up the subject he’d been dreading. “I take it Marc called.”

  “The minute you quit.”

  “In my defense, sir, I want to say I know you’re probably disappointed, but you’re wrong if you think I’m a quitter. I’ve never given up on anything important in my life and I don’t intend to start now.”

  The admiral studied him for a moment. “I’m sure you don’t know what I’m thinking, Zach. Breakfast is at 0700. If you sleep in, it’s up to you to sweet-talk Consuela into fixing you something to eat.”

  “Thanks. That won’t be necessary.”

  “’Night, then.”

  Zach stopped the man from closing the door.

  “Just one more thing—”

  “Michelle’s sleeping, let’s keep it that way,” the admiral said in anticipation of Zach’s next words.

  “I’m not going to be bothering Michelle while I’m here.” The admiral raised a questioning eyebrow, and Zach asked his original question. “Do you still have the old Curtiss Bi-plane? I’d like to buy it.”

  “That old thing? Never has run, you know. It came with the property.”

  “Yes, sir, and I’d still like to buy it. For whatever you think it’s worth.”

  “You drive a hard bargain,” the admiral said sarcastically. “I’ll tell you what. You let me get back to bed before my wife falls asleep and I’ll let you have the damn thing. Now, good night, Zach.” The admiral closed the door in his face.

  Smiling, Zach backed down the steps. Not exactly the confrontation he’d been expecting. Whaddaya know, the world didn’t come to an end just because he’d rung out of SEAL training.

  He got back in his car and drove the short distance to the guest house. Running his hand along the door frame, he found the key right where he knew it would be. He grabbed a few essentials from the Mustang and let himself in.

  In spite of the week of sleep deprivation and the long drive, he was too hyped up to sleep. He turned on the tube, but couldn’t sit still long enough to watch a program. Before an hour had passed he’d unloaded his entire car, fixed himself a sandwich and headed toward the barn.

  The huge door was falling off its hinges and it took some effort, but he managed to prop it open. He’d brought along a flashlight because he wasn’t sure of the wiring inside the barn.

  He tried the switch near the door. Nothing.

  It could be something as simple as burned-out bulbs, but he knew where the generator was and decided to try that first. Once he got the juice flowing, he found that only half the bulbs were out. He’d replace those tomorrow. Tonight he had all the light he needed to see his first love.

  He circled the 1934 Curtiss Bi-plane. They didn’t build them like this anymore. Although, after fifty-some years of neglect, her first blush had faded to a rusty brown. She’d need a lot of work. Probably a new engine. But the structure was basically sound.

  All the trouble would be worth it in the long run.

  Zach climbed onto the wing and settled down to look around his old haunt. This barn held a lot of good memories. And all the shadows of his past.

  The hay was older and scattered, but he knew the exact site where he and Michelle had made love for the first time. He shined his flashlight on the spot…

  “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.” Michelle sat next to him in the apple grove.

  “I thought you were still mad at me.” His back was against a tree trunk. After they’d gone their separate ways at the air show, Zach had returned to the Dann property.

  “I am, but that’s no reason for you to miss the fireworks tonight.”

  “I can see ’em from here. Maybe I’ll even climb the roof of the old barn.”

  “And get yourself killed.”

  “I like to live dangerously,” he teased. “You sure you’re still mad at me?”

  “No.” She studied her toes poking out the end of her sandals. “You just don’t get it, Zach. T
his is probably our last summer together. We’ll go off to separate colleges, get different jobs, marry other people… And it’s never going to be like this again.”

  “You apply wherever you want. And I’ll apply to the same colleges.” He thought that sounded reasonable.

  She threw the blue bear he’d won for her at him and stormed off. He picked up the stuffed animal and followed her winding path through the apple grove.

  “What?” he yelled after her. She was so hard to figure out, hot and cold like running water.

  She stopped. Hands on hips she glared at him. “What do you want to be when you grow up, Zach?”

  “You know.” They’d only had that conversation about a hundred times. “A fighter pilot.”

  “Well, that’s what I want to be, too!”

  “I know!”

  “And where had we planned on going to college?”

  “Annapolis. The naval academy.”

  “I’ve already been accepted. You haven’t even applied. I’ll be stuck going to the academy without you. And they don’t even let women become fighter pilots. I’ll wind up flying some kind of supply plane or something.” She sniffled and swiped at her eyes.

  “I’ll get my application in right away. I promise. My dad’s alum, my sister’s there, my grades are good enough, it’s not going to be a problem.”

  She stopped sniffling. “Promise?”

  “Yeah, we’re best buds, right? We’re in this together. And if you wind up flying a supply plane, I will, too,” he said, glancing up. “Looks like rain—” he started in what was almost immediately an understatement.

  A flash downpour started. A crack of lightning flashed. Thunder followed.

  “Let’s make a run for it.” He gestured toward the barn.

  “Race ya!” She took the lead, then lost her footing in the mud.

  “You okay?” He stopped to help. But she used the moment to get to her feet and knock him over. He caught on quickly to her game. And they ran laughing and sliding downhill toward the barn.

  “I won!” Michelle touched the door first.

  “Only because I let you,” Zach boasted.

  He had a streak of mud up to his thigh to match the one on her bottom.

  “You did not,” she teased, trying to squeeze under the eave and make room for him at the same time. “It doesn’t matter anyway. The door’s padlocked.”

  “When’d the admiral do that?”

  “A while ago. But maybe there’s a window out—”

  “Stand back.”

  “You’re going to break down the door?”

  “Have you got a better idea?”

  “This I have got to see.”

  She stepped out of his way, brushing at the water running down her face. “Hurry up, I’m getting wet.”

  “I hate to be the one to inform you, but you look like a drowned rat.” He sized up the door.

  She sized up him. “You look delicious.”

  He turned to her. “I take back the rat comment.” He voice became a husky rasp of awareness. “You look incredible wet.”

  “So are you just going to stand there? Or are you going to kiss me again?”

  “I’m going to break down the door. Then I’m going to kiss you.” He gave her a cocky grin. She leaned in and kissed him. Just the lightest touch, but enough to make him forget what he was supposed to be doing. By the time they came up for a breather, they were soaked to the skin and huddled together as one shivering mass.

  “Shelly, do you know why I know you’re going to be a fighter pilot?” he asked. She shook her head. “’Cause I can’t imagine heaven without you.”

  “Zach, sometimes you say the sweetest things. Now, could you get the door open. I’m freezing.”

  Breaking in proved to be a challenge. But a couple good lock-high kicks left the door hanging from its battered hinges. “After you.”

  “This place is in pretty bad shape.” Broken glass crunched beneath her feet. There were rotten floorboards, falling rafters, empty crates and bales of smelly hay.

  “Look! There’s our plane. The Renegade.” She walked over to the biplane. “When we were kids we’d sit in here for hours. Remember? I think that’s why my dad finally resorted to the lock. This place is so old, he probably thought we’d get hurt playing around in here. You’re staring at me,” she accused when she noticed he hadn’t moved.

  “Yeah,” he admitted, sticking his hands into his back pockets. Her wet T-shirt clung to her body. The white material had become transparent. He could make out the lacy pattern of her bra and the darker area of her nipples.

  She knew what he was doing, but instead of calling him on it, she reached for the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it off.

  His hands came out of his pockets, but he remained frozen to the spot by her boldness. She wrung out the T-shirt and hung it on one of the wing cables.

  “Do you want to try and dry your T-shirt?” she asked with enough innocence in her voice to have him doubting his previous assumption.

  He whipped off his T-shirt and tossed it over the nearest cable, then he closed the gap between them from a few feet to a few inches. But his gaze never strayed from those lacy-cupped breasts.

  “Maybe I should take it off to dry.” She reached behind her.

  “No,” he snapped.

  She looked stricken. But he didn’t want to play this game. The stakes were too high. And he’d already felt as if he’d lost. He’d be damned if he was going to act out some role as she teased them both out of their clothes.

  He brushed his thumb over her lace-covered nipple, then cupped the underside of her full breast. He heard her suck in her breath. An incredible feeling of control came over him, even though he was close to losing his. Shyness was not her natural state.

  He bared the pink tip of her nipple by pushing aside the fabric with his thumb. He looked into her eyes. “Only take it off if you want me to touch you.”

  She backed up a few inches until the wing left no room for her retreat. He started to remove his hand from her breast. Not because he wanted to, but because he knew enough to let the girl set the pace. No meant no, even if you were dying for that first yes.

  But she surprised him by pressing his hand to her. The she unhooked her bra, though she didn’t drop the lacy undergarment completely.

  “You’re beautiful, Shelly.” He wanted to chase away the uncertainty he saw in her face. He was ready, he was more than ready for this to happen.

  “Only because you make me feel that way. I’m not even pretty.”

  She kissed him. Touched him. And the next thing he knew, she was pushing him across the barn toward the hay, leaving shoes and clothes in their wake. He fell backward into the hay. She landed on top of him, straddling him.

  “It’s my first time, Zach. Be gentle.”

  She was ravishing him, yet begging him to be gentle—as if he even knew what that meant. He knew the basics, of course. He’d taken sex ed when he was twelve, and he could remember not being all that interested at the time. Now his body was humming on pure instinct.

  “I’ll be gentle, if you will.”

  “Oh, Zach. I love you…”

  Zach’s eyes were forced open one persistent drip at a time. Rain beat down on the roof. He wasn’t surprised to find he’d spent the night in the barn. He had a lot of lost sleep to catch up on, but not today.

  Gray light leaked in with the drizzle. It could have been morning or afternoon. At least this time he didn’t have to put on damp clothes after spending the night with a warm body.

  1000 Sunday

  DANN FAMILY ESTATE,

  Middleburg, VA

  “WHAT DOES he do out there all day and night?” Michelle used her fork to push the eggs around her plate.

  “Don’t know,” her father answered from behind his newspaper.

  Brunch was always served at this time, and in good weather like today, out on the patio. Zach knew the routine. But in the two weeks since he’d been back he hadn�
��t taken a single meal with them. In fact, she hadn’t even seen him except for the few times she’d hear his Mustang either coming or going and would run to a window to have a look.

  “Have you tried inviting him?” she asked. “Maybe he doesn’t think he’s welcome.”

  Her father just flipped a corner of the newspaper down and then up again.

  “Of course we’ve invited him.” Her mother joined them, leaning in to kiss her father who finally put his paper aside.

  “Sí,” Consuela added. “I even tried to bring him out with one of my cherry pies.”

  Michelle stabbed at her eggs. She was feeling irritated because of last night, her second dinner at the White House in as many weeks.

  Asad had been there. And while she found him charming, she’d grown tired of the media speculation surrounding their recent public appearances—all of which had been arranged. And since the commitments came to her from up the chain, she felt as if she had no choice but to accept them.

  Something Asad did nothing to dissuade.

  She’d gone along at first, thinking herself a goodwill ambassador, but now things were getting out of hand. She did not want to sit at the breakfast table and see her own image splashed across the society pages.

  Michelle shoved her plate aside. “Consuela, could you show me how to bake a cherry pie?”

  MICHELLE DECIDED to walk from the main house to the barn. She’d spent the past two hours in the kitchen boning up on the art of pie making. Consuela had then helped her pack a picnic lunch for two. But the special touches, the delicately folded napkins and the chilled bottle of champagne with flutes from her long-abandoned hope chest were all her own idea.

  “I thought you might be hungry.” She rehearsed small talk as each step brought her closer to her destination. “You missed breakfast, are you hungry? Consuela baked…I baked you this pie.”

  Just the thought of returning to the scene of the crime—the twelve-year-old crime of passion—made her insides turn to jelly. At seventeen, she’d had the nerve to seduce him; at thirty, she barely had the courage to speak to him.