“You want to help me get the kids to the car? If we load them up now, we might be able to get a bit more nap out of Liam and Zoe.” And get one for you, he wanted to add, but didn’t. Mark was clearly still fighting jet lag, but he wasn’t ever going to admit to it.
“Okay.” Mark made a few goodbyes then followed Isaiah to the couch, where Zoe was still snoozing.
“Can you get her?” Isaiah asked.
“You want me to pick her up?” Mark sounded like Isaiah had asked him to perform open heart surgery right there.
“Here. You take him. I’ll get her.” Isaiah thrust Liam at Mark, not giving him much chance to say no. It was the first time he’d seen Mark hold one of the kids, and while Mark looked distinctly ill at ease, eyes darting around, he also looked endearingly cute, big hands carefully cradling the baby. Not that Isaiah was gonna get a complex about him again, but he’d need a fever or something to not stop and appreciate a big giant SEAL in dress uniform holding a sleeping baby.
He took a moment to save the image in his brain, then carefully lifted up Zoe, who cuddled into his chest. “Okay, Daphne, you ready?” he asked as she walked over.
“Yeah. I wanna ride too,” she pouted.
Mark might be the one with muscles for days, but Isaiah’s own back had gotten good at the double-kid carry in a hurry. He wasn’t going to need the gym with these guys around. He hefted Daphne with his other arm and headed for the car. Daphne fell asleep in her booster seat before he even turned onto C Avenue.
“Quiet.” Mark sucked in a deep breath. The tension in his shoulders and face said he could use a nap himself. “But I bet they wake up the second we hit the driveway.”
“So let’s drive.” Isaiah made an executive decision and headed for the bridge. “I’ve got an almost full tank of gas, we don’t have to be anywhere until tomorrow’s lawyer meeting, and neither of us are eager to go back home.”
“It’s not home,” Mark said so softly that Isaiah had to strain to hear him. “I thought it would keep it like it was, letting Danielle raise the kids there, but it feels...different. Strange. Everything’s like I remember, yet it’s all changed too.”
“First time I went back to Dad’s house after Aunt Cecily moved in with Aunt Louise and Grandma two years ago, felt like that. Like someone had rearranged the foundation when I wasn’t looking. Like whatever made it home was gone.”
“Yes. That.” Mark’s tone was almost grateful. “Same bricks, same shingles, but the feel is all off. Maybe that’s why I didn’t visit much the last few years. House never felt right. Fuck, what an idiot I was.”
“Hey, now. No beating yourself up. You’ve been deployed a bunch. Danielle and Cal understood.” It was true, however, that Mark had missed a ton, but now wasn’t the time to get into all that. Instead, Isaiah headed north on I-5, away from this hellacious day. In the back seat, all three kids slept on, and glancing at them made the tender places in his heart feel scraped raw all over again.
“All day. All damn day people kept coming up to me, saying ‘what a tragedy’ and telling me how damn sorry they were. And so many of them said, ‘Don’t feel guilty.’ Or, ‘Don’t blame yourself.’ Like is that maybe what I’m supposed to be doing right now? What I’m supposed to be feeling? Maybe this is just the part of the program where I figure out how worthless I am.”
“You’re allowed to feel whatever you feel.” Isaiah pitched his voice to be soothing. “And I think everyone’s feeling a lot of guilt right now. Danielle and Cal both made some awful choices. Don’t think I’m not wondering every third moment if I could have told them not to go to that party. Refused to come watch the kids since the nanny quit and they had no childcare. And everyone at the party is wondering if they could have told her not to drive.”
“It wasn’t her first DUI,” Mark whispered. “First one was in college. Dad’s lawyer got her out of it. Should have lost her license on the second one before Daphne, but again, good lawyer. But then she had the kids...”
“And she did good with each pregnancy. Gave up the drinking and partying, threw herself into parenthood, but it never lasted. And Cal was the same way.” Isaiah followed I-5 out of the city, toward La Jolla where he’d grown up, but he wasn’t planning on stopping there. “If she was driving, chances are good he was even more wasted.”
“Why didn’t someone tell me? Why didn’t you tell me? If they had a problem with alcohol, I should have known about it.”
“Seriously?” Isaiah had to fight to keep his voice level. “Mark. You wanted me to call you? You’ve spent six years making sure we were never in the same room more than five minutes, that we never had a deeper conversation than burger toppings, refusing to acknowledge me the few times our paths have crossed socially. And I’m supposed to call you up, have a real talk about Danielle and Cal’s drinking problems with you, when you won’t give me the time of day?”
“Someone should have.” Mark thumped his head back against the headrest. “I should have known.”
Yeah, maybe he should have, but Isaiah wasn’t going to kick him when he was already feeling shitty. Instead Isaiah reached over, quickly patted Mark’s thigh. The suburbs were rushing by, and the closer they got to the beaches Isaiah loved, the more he felt able to deal with Mark’s anger and guilt and grief.
“You were a good brother. She thought the world of you, but you couldn’t have stopped this. Probably no one could have, which is what makes it a fucking tragedy.”
“Out in the field, I don’t believe in tragedy. I believe in didn’t try hard enough. Didn’t get there fast enough. Didn’t have the right skill set. Didn’t make the right judgment calls.”
“Mark. You’re a medic. Not God.” Isaiah gave a bitter laugh because Mark wasn’t the first SEAL he’d met to confuse his amazing set of skills with superhuman powers. “Sometimes bad shit happens. And this, this is killer bad shit. The fucking worst. But even if you’d seen it coming, you couldn’t have prevented it.”
Mark was quiet for a long time, to the point that Isaiah thought he probably drifted off. Isaiah headed for Torrey Pines and his favorite stretch of coast to drive. And yeah, he’d been near the ocean the past few weeks living in the house, but that was different, being surrounded by other multi-million-dollar houses and crowded Coronado beaches. He loved the state parks where Aunt Cecily had taken them growing up—fewer crowds, less pretentious, and rocky cliffs and white sand as far as the eye could see, no buildings and businesses to interfere with the natural beauty.
“I don’t know what to do with this...not even sure what to call it,” Mark said right as the ocean finally came back into view, a gorgeous vista that Isaiah had been coming to since he was Daphne’s age, after the death of his mom, Aunt Cecily taking him to Torrey Pines or another state park to “get our heads back on,” as she’d say after a bad day.
“Does it help if I say I’m pissed too? I loved them too. So f—freaking much. And I’m pissed as hell.”
“I guess that’s it. Anger. But... I need a plan. Some direction. A way forward. I hate feeling like this.”
“Me too.” Liam was starting to make squawking noises in the back seat, so Isaiah pulled into one of the parking areas, beach beneath them, vast blue ocean in front of them. It was far quieter than the Coronado beaches, making the roar of the ocean seem louder, more untamed somehow. And besides, Coronado had always been Mark and Danielle’s thing, the neighborhood full of families like theirs who came from serious money. Isaiah had been visiting for six years now and still didn’t feel at home there. Not like he did here. This place was special for him, and he felt a weird compulsion to share it with Mark and the kids. “We’re going to walk on the beach now. That’s the plan.”
* * *
“You want to walk on the beach? Here? Now?” Mark was struggling to keep up with Isaiah’s sudden leaps. But Isaiah was already out of the car, reaching over Zoe to extract the baby
from his bucket carrier seat in the middle of the back seat.
“Here.” He brought the baby around to Mark’s side of the car along with a bottle. “You give the big guy his snack, and I’ll get the other two to the restroom before we hit the beach.”
“I should feed him?” Mark blinked as Isaiah opened the door.
“Well, he’ll do most of the work.” Isaiah laughed as he deposited the squirming baby in Mark’s lap. “He can usually hold the bottle even, but he likes being held while he eats.”
Mark wasn’t so sure about that as the kid was reaching back for Isaiah and making squawking noises like a full-on fit might be looming. Isaiah stuck the bottle in Mark’s hand. “Just offer him this. You guys will figure it out.”
And with that Isaiah and the girls were off to the rustic building that housed the restrooms.
“No!” Liam protested.
“I hear you, kid.” Mark tried to settle him into a more comfortable position on his lap. “You hungry, huh?”
“No!” But he batted at the bottle.
“I know. I’m not Uncle Ikey. Or the nanny. Or...” His throat closed around the words. Fuck. He hadn’t cried at the funeral, hadn’t teared up at the endless parade of friends and family offering sympathy, but here he was, eyes burning and throat thick from nothing more than trying to get the kid to eat.
“Bah, bah,” Liam chanted.
“Okay, okay.” Mark pulled himself together. He offered the bottle, which the baby grabbed eagerly. The kid settled himself back in Mark’s arms like a little old man arranging himself in his recliner with his favorite drink, making a happy sigh. Mark racked his brain for his limited knowledge about babies. “Are we supposed to stop and burp you or are you too big for that?”
The baby continued to drink happily, head resting in the crook of Mark’s arm, so Mark figured burping could wait. Like the other kids, the baby had a thick head of curly hair, but unlike the girls, Liam had light eyes, almost silvery. His mouth, however, was pure Danielle—perfect rosebud, and like her, he’d have dimples. He gave a grunt when Mark forgot to do his part and tip the bottle, and that sound and demanding facial expression was so Danielle that Mark’s eyes burned again.
“We’re going to work this out, you and me,” Mark promised him as he adjusted the bottle. There was something weirdly soothing about holding the kid. He’d posed for pictures with Daphne when she was born, a teeny bundle in his hands for a quick snapshot while he prayed he wouldn’t sneeze or drop her, but this was the longest he’d ever held a baby, and Liam’s trust hit him smack in the center of his chest. He was depending on Mark to do the right thing here.
Isaiah walked back up, holding the girls’ hands, a grimace on his usually easygoing face.
“What happened?” Mark’s arms prickled, same as they did when something was about to go sideways on a mission.
“Mean man said we shouldn’t be there,” Daphne reported. “Asked if Uncle Ikey had permission.”
“It was okay.” Isaiah looked away, going to the trunk of the car, clearly lying. “I handled it.”
“Point him out to me,” Mark demanded, getting out of the car with the baby still in his arms.
“What? No way.” Isaiah shook his head. “We do not need you going all commando on this. You’ll see if you take the kids out—the looks are coming your way too. No good way to go pee unless there’s a family restroom, and even then, you get comments.”
“I hadn’t thought that far,” Mark admitted. He hated that anyone had made Isaiah and the girls feel bad, especially today, which had already been hard enough. Like Isaiah, the girls were biracial, but they all had different skin tones. If a stranger was making a judgment based only on appearances, it wasn’t obvious that they were related on first glance.
“Figured. Here.” Isaiah thrust a T-shirt and pair of pull-on shorts at him. “They’re clean. Figured you might want to lose the sailor suit.”
“Can you hold the baby?” Mark handed him back over, then headed to the restroom, keeping his eyes peeled for whatever asshole had dared harass Isaiah. However, the dank restroom was deserted and he changed quickly, not wanting to leave Isaiah alone with the kids too long.
It was the second time he was in Isaiah’s clothes, which were smaller than his own. Isaiah seemed to like things on the baggy side, so they weren’t painfully tight. They smelled like Isaiah too—a stronger-scented detergent than the one he used, a hint of the woodsy scent he associated with Isaiah in there too, tugging at his senses just like the shirt pulling at his shoulders, a constant reminder of Isaiah.
Trying to push that awareness aside, he hurried back to the car to stow his uniform and shoes. Isaiah was already barefoot himself, suit pants rolled up to his calves, and had the baby up in the pack while he handed the girls plastic cups and spoons to be makeshift diggers.
“You came prepared.” Mark was impressed despite his reservations about Isaiah’s child-watching abilities.
“Always gotta be ready for a beach day.” Isaiah gave him a grin, one that lit up all the dark places in Mark’s chest, the places that had ached all damn day. “Let’s go.”
They made their way down the short trail to the beach, Mark realizing quickly that carrying Zoe was the way to go while Isaiah held Daphne’s hand. Zoe was bigger than the baby, more sturdy, able to ride on his hip, but he still felt the same nervousness, scared he might let this precious cargo fall.
Letting Isaiah take point, he followed him past the lifeguard station toward a rocky outcropping. It was a weekday and still not quite spring, so the crowd was sparse. Mark had grown up on and around the ocean—his parents’ beach house, the yacht, frequent travels to other locales with beaches, but he’d never lost his sense of wonder at the vastness of the ocean stretching out to the horizon, late afternoon sun shimmering off the glassy blue surface.
Apparently finding a satisfactory patch of sand, one with some large rocks and a log for sitting, Isaiah plopped down. “Come on. Take a load off.”
Mark set Zoe down with a firm “Stay.”
“She’s not a cocker spaniel.” Isaiah laughed. “Girls, we’re not going in the water, okay? Let’s build a castle instead.”
Hanging back, Mark watched Isaiah set about molding sand for the girls, cheering them on as they used the cups and spoons. He was damn good at this kid stuff. You’re going to have to get that good in a hurry. He won’t stick around. Mark tried to push that somber thought aside. He was slowly coming to see that he was going to be well and truly screwed when Isaiah went back to his life, but for right now he was a blessing, even if he did drive Mark nuts on a bunch of levels.
“Mommy liked the ocean,” Daphne said absently as she patted her lumpy tower into place.
“Yeah. She did.” Isaiah’s voice was strained. “Daddy liked the mountains better though. Loved snow.”
“That’s silly.” Daphne laughed, continuing with playing in the sand like this wasn’t a huge breakthrough, her even talking about Cal and Danielle. “I like boats.”
“Me too. Did you know Uncle Mark goes on boats lots? For his work.” Isaiah was apparently far better than Mark at forcing words out, keeping this light and easy for Daphne. His eyes were shimmering though. “And him and Mommy used to go on your grandparents’ big boat all the time too.”
“Dani—Mommy loved the yacht,” Mark confirmed, eyes burning like he’d stared into an eclipse. They’d sold the yacht after his parents’ deaths, and for the first time Mark wished that maybe they’d kept it. Another link to Danielle and his parents now gone.
“They have boats in heaven.” Daphne said this emphatically, like she was daring them to disagree with her. It was all Mark could do to nod.
“Yup.” Isaiah rose, far more graceful with a kid on his back than Mark could be. He grabbed a nearby long stick and then walked a few paces in front of them, farther out to the damp sand. Mark was about
to ask him what he was doing when he saw the tears on Isaiah’s cheeks.
Fuck. Mark should say something. Do something. And a weird part of him was jealous—Isaiah could feel so much more easily than him, let things out when Mark still wasn’t even sure what the hell he was feeling. Instead, though, he just watched as Isaiah started tracing something on the sand.
“That’s a C,” Zoe said excitedly, racing to Isaiah. “You spelling Cat? C is for Cat.”
“Cal.” Mark licked his lips, then found a stick of his own. “He’s spelling Cal.”
“Yeah.” Isaiah didn’t make a move to wipe his face. “Figure we can take a picture maybe before the tide comes in.”
“I wanna do a heart!” Daphne crawled between them, using her spoon to carve up the sand.
And so they all worked together, Zoe calling out letters she recognized, Daphne adding little hearts around the names, Isaiah spelling out Cal, Mark adding Dani because the nickname was all he could manage before he had to go back and sit on the rocks, try to gather himself. He wasn’t crying, but the way his insides were shaking made him think that tears might be easier.
“There.” Brushing off his hands, Isaiah came back over, followed by the kids. His eyes were dry, but his cheeks were still damp. “Think we could walk up to the overlook, get a picture from up there?”
“Yeah.” It was a long walk, but it was something to do. And carrying Zoe piggyback style grounded him, stopped the inner meltdown. They made their way to the viewpoint, and Isaiah took out his phone, took a number of pictures of their work. But Mark just stared, leaning against the wooden rails, soaking it all in, the dimming sky, the blue ocean, the sand, and the two names there, stark and bold.
Cal + Dani.
More than any speech, any bouquet of flowers, any prayer or song, that sight made this all so much more real and final. He made a choking noise and then Isaiah’s hand was on his, warm and steady. “I know.”
Mark supposed he’d held hands before. The memories were hazy, nothing earthshattering. Nothing that felt like the world shifted on its axis, a little wobble before resuming its natural rotation. But standing there, letting Isaiah hold his hand, gripping him back like Isaiah was the last life raft, Mark’s universe rearranged itself. This was solid and life-affirming and reassuring and the best damn thing to happen all day. So Mark clung to that contact, squeezing him back.
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