Small Town SEAL's Saving Grace: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 45)

by Flora Ferrari

  “Yeah, he’s really preparing her for life. He’s a great dad.”

  “I’ve heard from the other teachers at school. And I think the single ladies would love to get to know him better too.”

  “Maybe later. Right now isn’t the best time.”

  “I understand. But you know what it is time for now?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Cookie dunking battle!”

  “I’m in!”

  My phone buzzes.

  “Grace. Sorry. I’m expecting a very important phone call. One that could get the gym back to full steam. I’ve got to get this.”

  “Please. I totally understand.”

  I look. Sure enough. I hit accept call and before I can even speak…

  “Jackpot!”

  “What ‘cha got?” I say.

  “Three years ago you did that full week of off base training at Pendleton, remember?”

  “The joint training with the Marines?”

  “That’s the one. Says here you completed it and were awarded a certificate.”

  “I got a certificate?”

  “Caleb, did you ever save anything that represented an achievement?”

  “Not really. Can’t rest on the past. Have to be forward looking.”

  “Yeah, but those things can at least make good bragging material for a mom.”

  “Guess you have a point, but my mom’s not one to talk a lot.”

  “I get your point. Anyways, that was just a certificate of completion, but it says here that represented about three months of civilian training up to and exceeding a black belt. I bet that qualifies. And I have the number of those guys here. They do a lot of government contracts so you could surely give them a call and find out.”

  “Sounds perfect. You’re the best. I knew calling you was the right thing to do.”

  There was no response.

  “Laura. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, and I’m glad you called earlier, but I have something more serious to talk about now.” She says.

  “Something heavy?”

  “As heavy as it gets.”

  I knew what she meant. Captain Culver had not addressed the reason for my discharge. We all knew the 600 pound gorilla in the room when we spoke, but neither of us wanted to name it. Laura was about to dart into that forest, grab that gorilla, and put it right in my face. But why?

  “Caleb.”

  “Yes.”

  “You might want to sit down.” She says.

  I felt a lump in my throat. I look at the kitchen table. The same table where I’ve had breakfast so many mornings with Jill and Jeremiah. A place of laughter and joking. Now it was about to be anything but. But I couldn’t sit here. Grace was here. I made the motion with one figure that this might take a minute. She moved her hands sideways indicating a no problem response. I walked up to my room. I sat on my bed. I didn’t look out the window as I usually do. I looked down. The phone pressed to my ear in my right hand. My forehead in my left. My left elbow resting on my thigh. My eyes closed.

  “There’s some new information about the incident in Kandahar.”

  “Is this nightmare ever going to end?”

  “Stay with me, Caleb.”

  I didn’t reply.

  “Caleb?”

  “I’m here.”

  Laura spoke slowly. She was sensitive to my feelings from the incident. I didn’t speak the entire time. Just listened. After about 10 minutes she finished. I raised my head from my hands. Stood up and looked out the window.

  “Thank you, Laura. For everything.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad we gathered this intel and were able to get it to you. And in regards to the martial arts certification…I’ll email you the contact information.”

  “Thank you. Really. Thank you for everything.”

  “You’re welcome. You sound very tranquil. Should I let you go? To process everything?”

  “Yes. I really need to take this in now.”

  “Totally understand. I’ll check in with you next week.”

  “Ok. Talk to you then.”

  “Until then.”

  I hang up the phone and continue staring out the window. Grace. She was still downstairs waiting to begin the cookie battle. I smiled. A cookie battle. How simple and different could that be from the news I just received? To say completely the opposite would still be an understatement.

  I walk downstairs and into the kitchen.

  “You look like you just saw a ghost.” She says.

  “I think I did.”

  “Are you OK? Do you want me to leave?”

  “Strangely, I’m perfect. I don’t want you to leave. In fact it’s perfect that you’re here.”

  “Are you sure? You don’t look like everything is perfect.”

  “I’m not in shock, but it’s probably looks like that.”

  “That sounds about right.”

  I sit down at the table.

  “Something just happened. Something that’s really life changing. Literally.”

  “Want to talk about it?” She says.

  “I do.”

  Grace leans in and intertwines her hands with mine. She looks at me in such a supportive way. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to. Her look simply tells me I can begin whenever I’m ready.

  “I’ve been battling PTSD for awhile now. I’m getting better, but not fast enough. It’s why I had to leave town. I went to Coronado to get news regarding my future as a SEAL. The news wasn’t what I wanted, but I can’t say it was a surprise. I saw it coming. The Navy decided to discharge me. I understand. Although I’m making progress there is no way they can put me back in the field anytime soon. They were great about it. They’re here to help me get better, but just not as a SEAL. I have to recover as a civilian and transition back to civilian life. I don’t like the decision, obviously, but I understand it. They can’t take risks with potential lose cannons in the field. Right now I’m viewed as a loose cannon. I’m not exactly, but I’m not 100% either. To be a SEAL I have to be at 100%. Mentally and physically. And I’m not going to be at 100% for awhile. The Navy probably wonders if that will ever happen.

  I can take a lot. Process a lot. But something happened in Kandahar that was a lot for me to process. Too much really.”

  I stop for a moment. Grace was still silent. She was going to let me speak when I was ready. I could feel her grip tighten just a little more in mine. Her support was amazing. She deserved to know. She was 100% invested in this relationship. I knew that. If she’s all in, I’m all in. And for me to be all in she gets to know the good with the bad. She’s my future and she deserves to know about my past. I’m sure of this.

  “I was on lookout one afternoon. We had a transport van meant to look like it was just transporting some local goods to the village, but in fact it was transporting SEALs into the area. We were restocking so to speak. They would transition in and our current group would transition out and back a few days. To unwind. It was supposed to be a simple maneuver. Until it wasn’t.

  We had three seals in bird’s nests scattered about the village. That just means we were perched in areas to watch the van. Provide any cover if needed. Keep an eye out for anything suspicious. That kind of thing. It was mid afternoon on a hot day. A time when a lot of the local people take naps, have a coffee, and just generally have some downtime. It was a good time to execute the plan. Everything was sound.

  I saw the van coming in my binoculars. I scoped the nearby area and everything was calm. The radio said everything was clear. All three of us that were providing look out radioed in that we were good-to-go.

  Through my scope I noticed a kid on a side street. He looked a bit nervous. Kind of fidgety. He was obviously hiding from someone or something, but I couldn’t put the pieces together. What was he doing? Was he in trouble with mom and dad or was it something bigger.

  I watched him. He seemed really nervous. He kept looking around to make sure no one was watch
ing from the rooftops. He was looking for something underneath his clothes. He found it and pulled it out. It was one of those old Nokia brick phones. The kind you haven’t seen in the States in over 15 years, but that are still very popular in other parts of the world. They’re also very popular with bombers, and although this kid was on a secluded side street he had a perfect view of the incoming van.”

  I pause again. Just telling the story took me back to that day. To that moment where everything changed forever.

  “I radioed him in. We didn’t have much time to make a decision. If we u-turned the van it would be obvious something was up. If we continued we weren’t sure if we were walking right into a trap. Less than 30 seconds before everything was perfect. Now we had a life and death decision to make…in less than 20 seconds.

  They asked me if I had a clear shot and if I could confirm the kid was a hostile. I did have a clear shot, but I had no idea about the kid. He looked suspicious as heck, but suspicious of what? If I’m wrong it’s not just me who’s hung out to dry. It’s the whole SEAL team. The whole operative. And it’s not even just the military side of it. It’s the human element. I’ve got what appears to be a nine or ten year old kid in the cross hairs of my scope. He’s younger than Jill. And there’s a decision to be made. A decision that’s going to come from above me, but one that’s going to be made based on what I tell them I’m seeing. And I’m not 100% sure what I’m seeing.”

  I stare at the ceiling. I could feel the hair stand up on my entire body. Goosebumps everywhere. I exhale hard.

  “We couldn’t make the kid out as militant with 100% certainty so I was ordered to just keep him in my sights and continue providing updates and act immediately upon any orders coming through my radio.

  The kid is watching the van. He’s holding the phone in his right hand. The van’s coming closer. I can see him look at the keypad. Look back at the van. Then he looks back at the keypad. His thumb moves over the keypad. It hovers above the call button.”

  My head drops. I stared at the wall straight ahead.

  “Do I terminate the kid? Do I terminate this kid before he presses the button?”

  I continue staring at the wall. My foot taps uncontrollably.

  “He presses the button.”

  I close my eyes. The visual is still there. Strong.

  “Boom! The van explodes. The kid takes one big side step that kind of resembles a horizontal jump and he’s gone. Six SEALs dead. I blew it. I was responsible. I didn’t accurately make out the kid. I just killed six of my brothers. Six guys I’ve went to hell and back with for the last three years. They’re gone. Just like that. Because of me.”

  I stop. Look down at the table. Look back up again.

  “I was just on the phone with a friend of mine. We served together. She’s still serving. She’s the eyes and ears of a lot of our missions. She’s in the background, matching up intel with technology. She’s vital. She’s getting information from all sides so she knows everything. She knows what the big brass wants. She knows what the media wants. She even knows what we want in our MREs and what time we want them. She brings it all together. And just a few minutes ago she brought my story all together. She received some new intel. Boots on the ground intel. The best kind. The kind you don’t have to second guess.

  It started when they found photographs of that kid with one of the guys who was in the van. They dug a little deeper and found out one of our guys had befriended him one afternoon while he was herding goats. The kid really liked the SEAL uniform and was interested. Our guy spoke Arabic. It was a hot day. He sat down with the kid under a tree and they just talked about nothing and everything. Our guy offered him some water from his canteen. The kid was amazed by it. That was it. Our guy ran into the kid later a few times and the bond grew. Eventually the kid started giving him little chunks of intel. We weren’t recruiting kids to help us, but the thinking is, hey, if this kid possibly knows something that’s going to save lives we’re going to listen to him.

  That day he had overheard some elders in the village outlining a plan. They were suspicious of vehicle activity and wanted to take one down. The kid immediately tried to find a quiet place to alert our guy. He was calling our guy. The cell tower records confirmed it. He had called our guy in the van to warn him. At that same moment the van hit a roadside bomb. An IED. The phone wasn’t a detonating mechanism. That phone, that kid, almost saved six lives. He was just a few moments too late.

  Since that day he’s been even more active. He’s very upset over the loss of his friend. He’s been doing everything he can to help us out. If I would have terminated him I would have cost a lot more lives.

  That little guy has saved so many lives in fact that just this morning the U.S. has decided to offer him and his immediate family asylum. They’re even approving a medal for him. He’s a hero.

  Since that day I’ve thought I was responsible for the death of those six men. It’s been destroying me from the inside out. The military loves acronyms. PTSD is one that gets thrown around a lot. I always thought I knew what it was, until I really knew what it was. I was diagnosed with it. It’s in my file. It’s a battle. Just now I received some back up in my battle with it. Some mental backup. You can’t take away what happened. You can’t bring those guys back. But now I know it wasn’t my fault. I’m still processing it. I mean I just took the call so it’s fresh. I heard the words, but they’re going to need some time to properly register. But just hearing those words, it wasn’t your fault, and actually being given the intel that backs them up, is a huge step in the mental battle with this monster of a disorder.”

  I stop. Look directly at Grace.

  “So that’s why I’m here. I came here to try to get right. I was ordered to get away from it all. Try to decompress. Jeremiah had this place and it seemed like a perfect refuge. The Navy agreed. And I was here awaiting their decision. First I got their decision, and now I have some very, very small semblance of guilt removed from my shoulders.”

  I laugh. I almost couldn’t stop. I thought back to the events of the morning and how serious they had been. In the last few moments they had almost become an afterthought. Now they were fresh again.

  “And this is all after losing my gym this morning. I almost forgot about that in the moment.”

  “So that’s my story. I’m just a regular guy now. A regular guy who’s in the process of healing. And as part of that healing I’m finding this place suits me. Everyday it feels more and more like home here. And everyday I realize home is not where you are or where you live. Home is who you’re with. Anybody can live in a house, or an apartment, or whatever. But a home. A home is something you make with others. And that’s exactly what I want to make here with you, Grace. A home.”

  A tear streamed down her face, past her cheek and falls to the table. She leans forward and gives me a big kiss on the cheek. She pulls back.

  “And that’s exactly what we are making together, Caleb. A home.”

  She leans back in and gives me a big hug.

  She was right. We were making a home. I never felt so good as when we were together. I would do anything for her. And right now that meant making good on my promise to those kids at her school. I had to get my gym back.

  CHAPTER 24

  “One minute, Mr. Callahan. Let me pull your records.”

  The receptionist at Optiforce placed me on hold. A strange, but somewhat logical name for an elite fighting academy. It lets you know who they are, without too much Hollywood or marketing in the name. If you need to know what they do you know. If not, you don’t. Less than one minute later she returns.

  “Yes, Mr. Callahan. I can confirm you completed the course, which is the equivalent of the licensing requirement for all 50 states. The training is within the allotted time period so we can issue you a teacher’s instruction license that will be recognized by the appropriate governing bodies wherever you might find yourself within the U.S.”

  “That would be great. What do I
owe and what do I have to do.”

  “I just need your address where I should mail the certificate and license. You took our course while on active duty. There is no way we are going to accept any payment for the certification process. We don’t charge service members for this.”

  “Perfect. And how long will it take.”

  “It’s still a few hours before 5 p.m. here so we can overnight it and you’ll have it in the morning.”

  “You’re a lifesaver.”

  “As are you, Mr. Callahan. A very soon to be licensed one.”

  We both laugh. I always like it when someone who is very professional can inject a little humor at the right moment. She did exactly that.