Operation SEAL: Book Two Trident Brotherhood Series

by Cayce Poponea

  “Good morning,” speaking loud enough from the street so I didn’t startle her, which worked as she looked over her shoulder, muttering a polite reply.

  “Are you getting married?” Stepping onto the curb, the sounds of the waking city beginning all around.

  “Yes,” she admits, but doesn’t turn from the window. “Well, maybe,” she shrugs. “It’s complicated.”

  “Men always are.” A humorless laugh leaves my chest, my thoughts on Logan and not the young lady standing before me. The conflicted look on her face tells me she was warring with herself, much like the battle raging in me. Layers of doubt held together by the ghosts of my past, blocking out the rational side, the one who knew to expect the unexpected.

  “How about you come in and let's see if we can uncomplicate it?”

  I tried to coax a smile out of her by sharing one of mine as I slid my key into the deadbolt. She nodded and followed behind me, however, the smile never caught. Opening the door wide for her, I was surprised by the smell of coffee brewing. Amanda wouldn’t be in for several hours, and Stacy wouldn’t be out this early unless there was a sale on expensive shoes. Placing my purse on the counter, I noticed the hum of Sarah’s sewing machine.

  “Sarah?”

  The humming stopped replaced by the sound of wheels on the floor. Sarah poked her head out, glasses on her face and a pencil clenched between her teeth. Her raised brow gave warning of her mood. Much like the past few days, she was full of new pregnancy hormones and not the brand which made you glow and happy.

  “Why are you here so early?”

  Removing the pencil from her mouth and the glasses from her face, the brows becoming more severe.

  “Two words, boss lady: Khaki Ball.”

  Those two words sent military wives scurrying to find the perfect dress. For some, a push into a new diet and the gym membership they haven’t used since Valentine’s Day. For us, more specifically Sarah, it meant letting out seams and shortening hemlines, late nights and early mornings all to make our customers happy.

  “How could I forget?”

  “Could be all the knives you’re juggling.” Sarah tossed in sarcasm, sliding the pencil atop her ear as she eyed the young lady behind me.

  “Who’s this?” Tipping her chin in my direction, curiosity getting the best of her.

  “I'm sorry,” spinning around to find the young lady looking fondly at the wedding dress, her arms crossed in front of her, tears welling up in her tired eyes. “I didn’t catch your name.”

  Startled, she uses the back of her hand to dry her eyes, shaking her head quickly as if to clear her head.

  “Avery.” Her name comes out as if it’s her salvation, something to grab onto and hold until she can compose herself. “Avery Whitfield.” Standing up straight, a firm resolve appears on her face. This girl is a fighter, one I’d want in my corner.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Avery. My name is—”

  “Harper Kincaid. I know, everyone in this town knows who you are.” Her honesty catches me, and for a moment I am taken aback. My silence is taken in the wrong context by the look on her face. I know I need to right the situation, as there is no need for her to leave this shop due to embarrassment, or with a bad taste in her mouth.

  “Well, hopefully you won't believe everything you’ve heard.” Sending her a wink and what I hope is a friendly smile. Internally, I hope what she has heard is in the positive and she hasn’t come to right a wrong.

  “Would you care for a cup of coffee? Sarah makes the best in the world.”

  “No, thank you. I don’t drink coffee.”

  “How about some tea? I think we have a few good flavors back there.”

  “No, thank you, I’m fine.”

  Avery was beautiful in that girl-next-door kind of way: polite and gentle. What she wasn’t was anything close to fine.

  “You’re sure?” Giving one last offer before I get to the root of the problem of why my wedding dress brought on a set of tears. Hell, if anyone was allowed to cry over that thing, it was me and the outrageous amount I paid for it.

  “Yes, completely sure.”

  “Well, I’m going to have a cup as my morning started hours ago.” Turning away from her, I shot a look at Sarah whose face had changed from the angry mother to be, to the much softer and compassionate one she wore most of the time. As I pass her, she rises from the chair and tosses her glasses on the desk, her work temporarily forgotten.

  “I’ve got her,“ she whispers, and I know she will make Avery feel safe enough to open up and tell us what is going on. I listen carefully as Sarah walks over and introduces herself, complimenting her choice of clothing and inquires if she lives close. I take my time as I stir my cream and sugar, giving her all the time in the world to work her magic. When I hear the pair laughing, I know it is safe to return to the conversation.

  “Avery, you mentioned something about a wedding and the dress in my window.”

  Sarah looks at me over her shoulder, sends me a knowing wink as the edges of her lips curl up in a smile. “I saw the flier about Horizons opening in a few days, and I had hoped there would be a dress I could wear to my wedding. But when I saw the one you have on display—” Her eyes drift to the bright white of the satin fabric. Full sleeves of sequined lace, with a four-foot cathedral train. I had the same look the first time I laid eyes on the finished product.

  “It's beautiful, isn’t it?” Sarah moves closer to the window, twisting the knob to open the case.

  “Please don’t,” Avery cautions, her voice wavering with the emotions filling the room. “I can't bear to touch it when it is impossible to purchase it.” Her bottom lip trembles as she releases the latter two words. I’ve seen the same look on hundreds of faces, all trying to make their lives better by finding a job, most coming from some form of addiction. This time is different, the tears aren’t from struggle, but of facing an unknown future.

  “On the sidewalk, you mentioned something about your situation being complicated. Why don’t you tell us why you're about to twist your fingers off, and then we’ll decide if you can afford the dress.”

  Avery separates her hands, her cheeks pinking up from getting caught. Rocking back on her heels, she places her hands on her side.

  “You asked me if I was getting married, and I’m supposed to.”

  She ducks her head briefly and looks back to the dress. Golden hues of the early morning sun cascade across her face, giving depth to the sadness of her topaz eyes.

  “Cole and I met when he pulled over to help me one night when my car broke down. He was all comfort and casual as he stepped out of his truck with a natural swagger that had my mouth dry as the desert and my heart hammering like a war drum in my chest. It was an instant attraction for me as he is a handsome man.”

  For the first time since she arrived, a smile emerged. Fondness streaks across her soft lips, leaving behind the memories she holds behind the smile.

  “When he got to my driver's side window, he pulled his identification from his back pocket and told me to keep my window up and my doors locked. He told me where he worked and how he lived just off the next exit. He offered to take a look at the problem if I didn’t have a tow truck on the way. I popped the hood as he walked around the front of my car, his ball cap shielding his eyes from my view. I was only able to catch the way the edges of his eyes wrinkled as he tugged on the release latch before he disappeared from view behind the hood of my car. He fixed my car in a matter of minutes and waited until I was on the road, before he drove off down the highway. I wanted to kick myself when I realized I didn’t get his number.”

  The once shy smile has taken residence on her face, perfect teeth joining the celebration of what is destined to be an epic love story.

  “A few days later, I got a call from my roommate who had too much to drink and needed a ride home. When I pulled up to the bar, she was leaning against the chest of a tall man, his friend approaching my car before I could put the vehicle in park.


  The second he poked his head into my car, I was instantly mortified. I hadn’t changed out of my pajamas before getting behind the wheel. Cole didn’t seem to mind as the smile on his face grew tenfold and he called me beautiful.”

  Avery’s words like a whisper at midnight, soft and reverent. Golden rays from the window glided along the caramel strands of her hair, giving her an angelic glow. I had to agree with Cole, the girl before me, bathed in the early morning sunshine, was indeed beautiful.

  “After he and his friend helped get the passed out roommate of mine into the car, he asked me for my phone and put his number into my contacts list, under the cute guy who likes me.”

  Contagious smiles shine all around, as like minds rejoice in the pet name.

  “He asked me to text him when I got home. When I did, he called me back, and we talked until the sun came up the next morning. Two days later, I showed up at his apartment with a plate of his favorite cookies as a thank you for fixing my car. He asked me to dinner the following weekend, and we’ve been together ever since.”

  I’ve always prided myself on my ability to read people, able to decipher the stories hidden behind the illusion of happiness they work so hard to create. Avery has the fairy tale beginning of a great romance, but her eyes tell me of the shadows of sadness, which darken the edges of her world, threatening to smother the life out of her dreams and the handsome man who stars in them.

  “I met his grandmother, who raised him since the death of his mother. She’s in a senior living facility as she has the beginning signs of Alzheimer’s. Last month she had a bad episode and didn’t recognize him at first. I tried to remain supportive and do anything to help him in dealing with her disease. After he got her settled and she seemed to know who he was again, he asked me to come to his apartment and stay with him for a while. I held his head in my lap, brushing my fingers through the hair at the top of his head, allowing him to get lost in his memories of the happy times he spent with her. At one point, Cole jumped from the couch and ran down the hall to his room. I assumed he was getting sick in the bathroom, but didn’t want to barge in, so I stayed on the couch and waited, listening for any sounds of distress. Less than a minute later, he came back down the hall, a determined look on his face. He dropped to one knee in front of me and asked me to marry him. Seeing his mother die and now his grandmother losing her memories, he realized life is too short and he needed to live in the moment. Cole is in the Navy, at least for a few more months. His contract is ending, and he wants to attend college now that he has the money saved and the scholarship from his job. We had discussed him taking online courses so he can be available for his grandmother while I keep my job in retail.”

  Avery takes a look around the shop, a familiarity rising in the softness of her gaze. Reaching over she picks up the sleeve of a silk blouse, rubbing the fabric between her index and thumb, appreciating the quality of the fibers and the hard work of a skilled weaver.

  “Neither one of us wanted a big wedding, but being married in the church was at the top of our must list. I suggested just friends and immediate family, a small ceremony with cake and punch afterward, and he wholeheartedly agreed. We booked the church, bought the flowers and the cake. He would wear his uniform, and I would find a dress.”

  Avery paused, taking a deep breath and then walked slowly to the counter where Sarah had draped the gown. Rainbows of iridescent colors shimmered from the sequins like a mirrored globe above a dance floor, sharing their brilliance with the rest of the world. Avery tentatively reaches out caressing the edge of the sleeve with the same care a mother gives the cheek of her newborn baby. Just like the silk of the blouse, she appreciates the feel of the satin and lace, the two fabrics complementing one another, creating a sea of wonder making the wearer the center of attention.

  “I’ve been at my job since I was granted my first work permit when I was fifteen. Working my way up from housekeeping to cashier, then to customer service and, ultimately, department supervisor for women’s apparel. I worked hard to prove to my bosses I had what it takes to attract the attention of their customers and help to turn a profit. I loved my job and everyone I worked with, considered all of them my family.”

  Avery picks the dress up by the top of the bodice, the look of longing covers her face and coaxes new tears to threaten to fall from her eyes. I send a side glance at Sarah, who face reads the same as mine. We choose to remain silent as Avery has time to confess her fears, telling the story that has been locked up inside, too consumed with the issues in Cole’s world to voice the ones in hers.

  “We got the word via a text message in the middle of the night, store closing in thirty days. No big meeting with our supervisor’s, just five words typed out on a screen, sent to thousands of faceless people. Real families with mortgages and light bills, college tuitions and groceries to buy. What I assumed would be the worst, losing my job and only source of income, was only the beginning of a horrible nightmare. After I had helped them liquidate the inventory in the store, I began sending my resume to every store in the area. But with no way to call and confirm my previous employment, I had no proof of my worth. I haven’t had a second interview in nearly two weeks. Now, I’m faced with paying my rent for the month or paying for my wedding. The worst part is, I can’t bring myself to tell Cole I haven’t found a dress yet.”

  Tears fall freely down her face, her hands still clutching the dress as her body jerks with her sobs. I’m starting to wonder if this dress is a beacon of bad luck as everyone who has touched it is rendered to a sobbing mess.

  Sarah has reached her limit allowing the poor girl to cry alone as she pulls the dress from her fingers and wraps her in a motherly embrace, allowing all of the anguish the truth has released to hang in the air around us.

  The store Avery had worked at was a member of a large chain. One I assumed was anchored in a long history of tradition and recognition. Their branding had been some of the industries best. Somehow they had been unable to evolve into the cyber age, trailing behind some of the smaller box stores who hired fresh-faced kids to make them marketable and rise with the times. I will admit to taking advantage of the rock bottom prices they advertised for display racks and hangers, wanting to save as much money as I could in hopes of spreading my grant money as far as it could go.

  “You know something, Avery?”

  Lifting the edges of the lace sleeve, trying to focus on defeating the tension around me, instead of the flood of memories trying desperately to clog my throat with too much emotion, forcing me to join the crying-fest before me.

  “Last night when I was closing up, I noticed this dress had been in the display window for longer than it was supposed to be and I needed to add it to the next shipment for Horizons.”

  Grasping a hanger from under the counter, I carefully slide the edge into the neck of the dress, taking extra time to avoid damaging the dress. Moving my focus from the delicate material, unable to hide the hint of joy in my eye as I center in on her cautious face.

  “Then you come in and remind me, not only of this oversight but of a position I have yet to fill at Horizons.”

  The first time I’d helped someone with an article of clothing, making them stand a little taller and prouder, it had been like a shot of heroine for me, trapping me in this addicting state of paying-it-forward. Offering to employ Avery as manager of the Center had the possibility of changing her life, not only monetarily, but by giving her a taste of the satisfaction of helping others.

  “I need someone who can organize the floor, give instructions to the other workers as well as the few volunteers we have signed up. Someone who can come over here a couple of times a week to pick up new merchandise and put it into the hands of those in need.”

  Sarah’s arms remained snuggly around Avery’s shoulders, a watery smile on each of their faces.

  “The clothes aren’t new, but if you're interested in the job, we would love to have you on our team.”

  The lack of a
wedding dress was forgotten for the moment, tears of sorrow morphing into tears of joy. Avery cleared the space between us, skirting around the corner and tackling me full on with her appreciation.

  “You won't regret this, I swear it.” She promised, rocking the pair of us back and forth. Our bodies feeling lighter from the beams of hope I had started.

  “I have no doubt you will do an excellent job.” Untangling her arms from around me, I wiped away a single tear, which had managed to slip out in the excitement. “How about you take care of this dress for me and give it to someone who has a need for it?”

  Sarah grabbed Avery, shoving her into the dressing room to check for sizing and proper hemlines. I messaged Meredith with the news we had a full staff including a manager with a lifetime of experience. Avery left the shop no longer feeling like the weight of the world was sitting on her shoulders, with a new dress wrapped carefully in a garment bag trailing behind her and an appointment to be back at this shop by seven-thirty tomorrow morning.

  Today was destined to be busy as it was the last Friday before the annual Dine In event on base. A night where young couples with small children could enjoy a meal while their children were cared for, all free of charge. It marked six weeks until the coveted Khaki Ball, where the higher-ranking active duty wives dressed to the nines and got, what Sarah describes as, white-girl wasted. I took her word for it, as I’ve never had a reason to attend.

  Normally, Sarah was polite and complimentary, ready to help anyone who walked through the door. However, with her new pregnancy and the hormones I could feel from across the room, she had apparently used all of her charms on Avery. Gone was Comforting and Understanding Sarah, in her place was Raging Bitch Sarah, who would tell you in no uncertain terms the absolute truth, not giving two shits if you're feelings were left bleeding and battered on the floor.