A SEAL at Heart

by Anne Elizabeth

  Now, here she was, still waiting for any word from him and worried as hell! “The man is on medical leave. There is no reason for him not to get back to me ASAP.” Her words sounded flat in the empty therapy room. She wished she had giant windows to throw open and let the sunshine in. The subdued lighting and lack of something to concentrate on was eating away at her tiny amount of forced harmony.

  With over three hours until her next two appointments, the only tasks at hand—that she could do in here—were pacing the confines of this space and worrying about what was happening to Jack. Anything else she could think of—organizing receipts for taxes, organizing her notes, updating all the files, getting a manicure and pedicure—had already been attended to.

  Images of her dad kept invading her mind. They wove into the questions she had about Jack until her brain felt like it would explode. Was this why she’d never wanted to date anyone from the military? Being shut out was hard to take.

  She asked herself the scariest question aloud. “Is he a player, like Dad?” She didn’t believe it. Couldn’t face it, even as a possibility. Yet the idea of having committed so much of herself to him made her stomach do flips. Falling for him had been almost unavoidable. One minute she had decided to keep her distance, and then Jack was there—making love to her in the shower, toweling her dry, and cooking for her, even bringing her breakfast in bed.

  How could she deny this man who rained attention on her?

  Jack couldn’t be… a man like her father…

  Running for the bathroom, she threw open the door, flipped on the light, and made it just in time as the bile rose up her throat and exploded out of her mouth.

  As quickly as the feeling came, it left.

  Leaning her forehead against the cool porcelain, she was relieved that the pressure in her stomach was gone. Expelling made her feel slightly better physically, but confirmed something she could not deny any longer.

  Priorities first. Unable to stand the taste in her mouth, she pushed herself to her feet, went to the sink, and splashed cold water on her face. Then she swished with mouthwash and brushed her teeth.

  Staring in the mirror, she thought she looked pale. There were dark circles under her eyes and her neck was splotchy. The necklace she used to wear all the time sat on the edge of her sink. Twisting it at least a hundred times—like worry beads—had given her small bumps on her neck. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry that they looked like the hickeys Jack was notorious for leaving on her body.

  “You’ve looked better, doll.” Patting her cheeks, she raised a little color and then added a few layers of lip gloss. The pampering helped her self-esteem, so she pulled out her makeup bag and went to work: mascara, eye shadow, bronzer, a dash of blush, and a double dollop of under-eye cover-up.

  Pleased with her appearance, she reseated herself in front of the computer and logged in to the calendar program again. She selected the two-month display and counted the days again.

  “I’m pregnant!” Holy moley! No fucking way! No, no, no. “It can’t be. This is just nerves. I’ve made myself sick from emotional fantasizing. The lack of closure on this situation is making me loopy.” She took a deep breath.

  Cradling her head in her hands, she closed her eyes and wept, trying to force all of the pent-up stress out of her system in one tear-filled session.

  Maybe she should go out—kayak, swim, bike, or hike, anything to keep her mind from wandering. When the sobbing finally ran its course, she looked up, staring blankly at the computer screen in front of her as she backtracked through her memory files. “When did we have unprotected sex? We didn’t. We couldn’t have. Did a condom break and we didn’t know it?” she murmured to herself.

  Her chin bumped her knuckles, sending a shimmer of pain up her jaw and focusing her mind. The only time she could think of was… after the incident in the parking lot between Gich and Jack, where she had been inadvertently struck in the jaw. She and Jack had gone back to his place. She’d been consumed by the pain in her jaw—okay, and by her libido, too, as well as seeing his space for the first time. She groaned. The Vicodin.

  Crap, crap, crap! If it were true, then they were both at fault here and there could be no finger-pointing.

  “Please don’t let it be true. I’m not ready.” The words hung in the air as if it were something she could swat away.

  She picked up her phone and scheduled an appointment with her gynecologist. “We’re not living in the Dark Ages. Rather than buy a hundred tests and freak myself out as they register either a plus or minus, I can be a smart soul and know for sure.”

  Having made a grown-up decision to deal with the issue, she felt moderately better—more in control. Logging off her calendar program, she shut down her computer, grabbed her purse and keys, and headed out of the office. Nothing could keep her in this room for three hours if she didn’t need to be there.

  Opening the door to her waiting room, she poked her head out. “Frannie, I’ll be back in time for the three p.m. I’m going to run a few errands. I’ll just sneak out through the back door.”

  “Oh, Laurie. Right. Before you go, uh, Mr. Foster and Miss Hennessey canceled for this afternoon. Your schedule is completely clear. They both booked double sessions for next week.” Frannie smiled at her. “You can go now, dear. Since we don’t have anything scheduled, I’m going to take the rest of the afternoon off.”

  “You’re leaving early?” Laurie was baffled. She stepped into the room.

  “Yes, dear. Unless you have additional work.” Frannie batted her eyes and waited for Laurie’s response.

  “Uh, no. You can go. Uh, Frannie.” Laurie needed more details. She hated to cross-examine the woman but the cancellations sounded suspicious. “Did they cancel or did you call and reschedule them?”

  Her assistant sniffed and then turned around and began straightening her desk. She didn’t speak right away, paying enormous attention to her tasks. After she turned off her computer and retrieved her purse from the bottom drawer, Frannie stood and faced her. “I rescheduled them. These walls are thinner than you think, and sometimes a physical therapist needs some time off, too. I may not be a healthcare provider, but I work for one. I’ve learned a lot from you.”

  “I… I don’t know what to say,” replied Laurie after she’d figuratively pulled her chin off the floor.

  “Well, you can fire me if you’d like. You know that I am very discreet, but I’m partial to you—been with you since you opened, and I plan on coming to work every day until they lay me in the ground. Unless you feel I need to be fired for my actions.” Frannie stood her ground, willing to take the consequences either way. It was hard not to admire a woman with such guts.

  “Do you hear the clients when they are on the table or in the chair as they discuss their personal issues?” asked Laurie. “I’d really need to do something about the sound.”

  “Of course not! When you have them sitting, I can barely hear a murmur, though occasionally I hear a scream or groan. Your desk is just on the other side of the door and, well, you’re like a daughter to me, or a younger sister.” Pointing her index finger in Laurie’s direction, Frannie said, “When my boss is pacing up and down the room, slamming books, bolting for the bathroom, and worrying aloud about being pregnant, I can certainly be enough of a friend and assistant to make sure she gets what she needs. Understood?”

  Shock riveted Laurie to the spot. Nodding her head in a bit of a stupor, unaware that anyone else knew of her dilemma, she finally found her voice and replied, “Thank you, Frannie. Next time, though, please let me make the choice, okay?”

  “Sure thing,” said Frannie with a wink and a big smile. Approaching Laurie with wide-open arms, she hugged tightly, holding on too long. The air felt like it had been squeezed out of Laurie’s body, but that sweet, tender Frannie smile was on the woman’s face when they pulled apart. “If you’re inclined, I’d like to know the outcome. You got me! I’m here either way, and I love little ones. I can bottle-feed a
nd burp with the best of them, as well as answer phones.” With that said, Frannie trundled out of the office, locking the front door behind her.

  The knot in Laurie’s throat was too big to swallow. She wanted to sit down on the couch and cry, but she had spent too much time doing that recently. Now was a time for action, and Laurie Smith was on the move.

  Determined, with car keys and purse clenched in her hand, she headed back through her office and into her apartment and exited through the rear of her office/home. Getting in her car, she headed for the ultimate joy, one she knew would bring her comfort.

  She sped along Rosecrans Street and onto the I-5 freeway. The best spot in the whole world was Gator Beach, with one pit stop along the way for an ice cream from MooTime Creamery.

  ***

  A triple-decker ice cream in a waffle cone, loaded with all the candy fixings, was exactly what she needed on a hot November day. While the rest of the world was plunging into winter, Coronado residents were still enjoying a relaxing autumn heat.

  Deciding to stroll along Orange Avenue, it occurred to her that leaving her wallet in the car might stop her from impulse buying. Whenever she was in a heightened emotional state, there was a temptation to buy everything she could get her hands on to comfort herself. The best control technique was leaving the plastic—her credit cards—where she couldn’t reach them. Stopping at her car, she stashed her purse in the trunk and pocketed her keys with a smile.

  Ready for her relaxing walk with her luscious treat, Laurie strolled. Pausing at the bookstore, she noticed the display of new romance novels and mysteries. If the store had allowed ice cream, she would have been in there instantly, making a stack for her TBR—to be read—pile. But the sugar was providing so much comfort right now, she thought, she’d swing by the car and grab her purse and then stop in there on the way back. So much for willpower and good shopping techniques…

  Hey, books are food! she told herself. I can spend money on them. Grinning, she knew novels would always be the only exception to her purchasing rules.

  Her eyes caught a rather extraordinary display in the far window. The sign read Baby’s First Books. Many of the stories had been ones her mother had picked out for her, before she was born. Several of them had helped her learn to read. Precious memories teased her mind, bringing her overwhelming feelings of security and joy.

  A hand went to her belly, and for the first time she consciously considered what it would be like to have a baby. Could she be a mom? She waited for the panic of uncertainty to set in, but none of it came. Instead, there was a calm that permeated her system—a sense of well-being and capability. Her whole life, she’d been around kids and babies and was always comfortable with them. Next was the realization and understanding that she could really do this—be a mom.

  Seeing the reflection of herself in the window—one hand on her belly and the other holding an ice cream cone—she contemplated how she would look pregnant. She smiled. “I’ll be beautiful.”

  “You already are! Very sexy, too,” said the coffee guy as he strode by her and into his little booth, positioned less than five feet away. “How about a date? Or would you like something to drink?”

  Heat rose in her cheeks. She knew she was blushing. “No. Thanks. I’m good.”

  She knew he had just been flirting, but it was kind of sweet. Nice to know she was still desirable. Continuing her stroll down Orange Avenue, she passed the Mexican restaurant with wonderful garlic and onion smells coming from inside. Next to that was a tourist shop selling Coronado and Life Is Good T-shirts.

  Women dressed in workout clothes, pushing babies in strollers, passed by her, and she realized she was suddenly seeing children everywhere.

  As she crossed the street, she heard laughter coming from McP’s. Maybe I’ll visit Greg. I haven’t seen him in months. Oh, they have delicious potato skins, too.

  “It was too fucking funny!” That voice! Was that Jack?

  Her steps quickened, drawing her closer. Scanning the faces, her eyes found him before she fully believed it was actually he. Yes! It’s Jack! He’s alive! And he was sitting at a table in the McP’s courtyard, surrounded by women. The bastard was perfectly and absolutely fine.

  That motherfucking jackass! I’m going to kill him!

  Without realizing exactly what she was going to do, she parted the bevy of cackling women and walked right up to him. Jack Roaker stared at her as if a demon had just materialized.

  Everyone was dead still as they stared at her. “Excuse us,” she said to the women.

  Without uttering a single syllable to the accused, she dumped her favorite ice cream treat on his head—cone and all—and then turned and walked away. That was it! She had nothing more to say to him. That rat bastard!

  “Laurie! Wait! Laurie, I can explain everything.” Jack caught her arm, stopping her retreat. “You owe me that much.”

  “I owe, you? Fuck you, Jack. I owe you nothing!” She held a hand on her belly. A noise was buzzing in her head, and she desperately wanted to throw up. I am the daughter of a SEAL. I will not cry, and I will not throw up!

  “Wait. Please let me talk to you—face-to-face.” As he turned her to look him in the eye, she felt her gut convulse as she threw up all over Petty Officer First Class Jack Roaker. “These ladies are from…”

  Chunks of chocolate and strawberry streamed out of her mouth, landing all over his navy-blue running shorts and white T-shirt with the words Doing It Dirty written in gold. It seemed oddly appropriate to her, because Jack was all about mucking around in the dirt and with the ladies…

  The chunks and liquid slid down his shirt and shorts and onto his golden skin. His grip was firm. He kept holding her arm, not moving. She had to give him a tiny amount of credit for not thrusting her away. She wasn’t sure she could have been still while someone threw up on her.

  “Shit! Laurie, are you okay?” Rather than wait for an answer, he scooped her up—carrying her at arm’s length—and placed her in a chair. After she was seated, he brought her a glass of ice water from the waitress bar located only a few feet away from the table, at the back gate.

  Grabbing a wet bar rag, he wiped himself off, and then seated himself across from her. He propped his elbows on his thighs, those heavily muscled legs that begged for a woman’s touch. “Laurie. Listen to me. There’s a lot, so much, I have to tell you…”

  At this point, she was so numb, she didn’t know what to say. She could see his mouth moving, but his words didn’t penetrate. Wavering between anger and attraction, her brain was just too confused. What could he possible say that would resolve this intensely crazy situation?

  Literally, she had caught the man red-handed…and blond-handed, and brunette-handed, too.

  Heaven help her! The worst nightmare she could ever imagine had just come true: being knocked up by a military guy who screwed around and was completely dishonest with her. What could be worse?

  The bevy of ladies drifted by them as tears filled her eyes. The brunette frowned at her and stuck out her tongue.

  Laurie did not care one whit as the ladies left the bar. She just stared at Jack as he babbled on. Shaking her head, she decided she just didn’t want to hear one more syllable come from his mouth. It was a jumble of discordant noises, and she couldn’t take it one second longer.

  “Don’t worry! I’m not asking you for a damned thing. I want nothing from you!” Gulping in air, she attempted to steady her nerves, but she had so much more to say. “Stop! Just stop, Jack. Please. I don’t want to hear it! I might be pregnant, and this is my choice, my decision.”

  Jack was trying to say something even as his eyes looked like they were popping out of his head. He looked shocked beyond words.

  Taking several deep breaths, she said, “Listen. Don’t talk to me. Don’t come find me. Not at home. Not at work. Just let me be.” Standing up, she wavered for a minute and then steadied herself. “I’m a strong woman, Jack. I’m just disappointed, and very sorry; you’re not the
man I thought you were. I don’t need a person like you in my life. One SEAL that dicked around was quite enough in this lifetime. Good-bye, Jack.”

  Keep walking. Don’t look back. This is for the best! She repeated the phrases as her feet took her forward and walked her out of McP’s.

  The pub had always been a safe place. As a child she had played on the patio; when she was a teenager, dates had taken her there for a meal; in the summertime, Gich and her father had brought her to enjoy the music on Sundays; and now, she’d just told the man she loved she might be pregnant and never wanted to see him again.

  Had she come full circle? Or was life very much like the past—doomed to repeat patterns?

  In the car, she started the engine and pulled into the rush of traffic. Cars sped by, beeping their horns at her. The speedometer read twenty miles per hour, and she pushed the accelerator to make the car go faster.

  Everything felt out of sync as she squeezed the steering wheel. Her fingers ached at the pressure and she had to loosen her grip. Fishing in her purse for her cell phone, she contemplated calling Gich and ratting on Jack. Rarely had she allowed herself to push that particular panic button, but was she justified here? What if she changed her mind and wanted to get together with him? “It’ll never happen. I’m too angry.”

  Images ran through her head of the men brawling. “He’d kick Jack’s ass if I asked him to.” Staring at the ten digits, she just couldn’t bring herself to call. Gich would be so disappointed in her, and Jack would be toast. Years ago, he had told her he wanted love, marriage, and a happily-ever-after for her. Now, she realized she wanted that, too, but fate seemed to have a different plan.

  Dropping the phone on the passenger seat, she abandoned the call. In her heart of hearts, she just could not believe that Jack was a player. Something else must be wrong! Without the answer, though, her heart was breaking one tiny piece at a time, and pretty soon there would be nothing left.