SEAL Firsts

by Sharon Hamilton

  “That you know of.”

  “Well, there is that.” T.J. wondered why he’d even brought it up. Then he remembered. “Sophia has hired a bunch of instructors, from ballroom to belly dancing and everything in between. Sophia of course does all the Latin jazz, tango and most of the ballroom instruction. Amornpan teaches Eastern and some Middle Eastern dances and gives traditional Thai performances.”

  Shannon clutched his hand, weaving her fingers through his as they walked to the studio doors. Exotic reed, flute and drum music echoed out into the street.

  “They’re all going to perform today, along with some of their best students.”

  “You’re going to get up there and shake your fanny if I call you to the floor, T.J.”

  He stopped so quickly, Shannon’s huge belly rammed into his backside. “Sorry,” he murmured.

  “I’ve seen your moves. I’ll bet you are a good dancer,” she said to him, lips quirking into a smile.

  This did please him. “As a matter of fact, I am rather good at it.”

  “I’m going to make you prove it.”

  He rolled his eyes and bent down to kiss her delicately, which got them both so distracted a skateboarder nearly hit them. The softness of her lips, sucking his, the placement of her hand at the buttons of his jeans were two of the little things he loved the most about how she loved him. She was never afraid to show affection for him. It filled a huge hole in his soul that someone so fine would find him so continually attractive. Made him want to think of dark corners and long nights with the crickets chirping in one of those no-name towns he grew up in.

  He felt so lucky to be alive, and ached that it was his place to be with her now, not Frankie. That sadness never went away.

  The music got loud when someone opened the doors.

  “T.J. get your hands off that woman and get your butt in here,” Timmons’ gravely voice boomed just like T.J. remembered. “Glad to see you dressed proper, at least. Why, hello, Shannon.”

  Their old Chief, now retired, had taken an extra interest in the gym, and in Amornpan in particular. TJ opened the door wider to allow space for Shannon’s large frame to get through.

  “Timmons, you dressed up, too,” she said to the older SEAL.

  “I’ve been told I clean up real good. Sort of a special day for us here at the studio.”

  Shannon hesitated, like she was going to ask him about the “us” but T.J. gently pushed on her, and they brushed past his former liaison officer.

  “Git yer butt over there by Mark and Nick,” Timmons said, pointing.

  T.J. had wanted to say something to Timmons about his new passion for working out, but was feeling so lighthearted, he didn’t want to embarrass the man and ruin the mood for himself. He showed Shannon to a wooden folding chair next to Nick. Mark sat on the other side.

  “Nick, how long are you down here for?”

  “Just for the jump school course. Then back up to Sonoma County. We’re in the middle of harvest. I shouldn’t even be here.”

  “Glad to see you decided to stay in, my friend. We need guys like you,” T.J. answered.

  “Can you tell my intended?”

  That caught Shannon’s attention. “Good job, Nick,” she said as she winked at him.

  “Not like it’s any secret. We’ve been living together for over six months now. This next workup will be our first real separation. We’d like to get married before that happens.”

  “What’s your date?” Shannon asked.

  “How about three weeks from today?”

  T.J. whistled involuntarily. He leaned into Mark. “We have some serious planning to do, my web-foot friend.”

  Mark nodded with his arms crossed and shot T.J. with his imaginary forefinger shooter. When he turned back to Shannon it surprised him that she was frowning and staring into space, her face in profile. But T.J. could see the grimace and knew there were some unhappy memories. For his part, he’d never seen Shannon as lovely as she had been as a bride, and could now admit that was the day he fell in love with her. But he knew her memories of him were much different than that.

  With an arm around her shoulder, he still managed to get his lips close to her ear. “Honey, I’ve changed.”

  The look she gave him, her doe eyes tearing up slightly but unwavering, told him he was going to have to work a lot harder at the convincing thing.

  “I have,” he insisted again and followed it up with a kiss to her cheek. He didn’t notice the room had gotten silent, and someone had cut the house lights. A heavy-set woman in the row in front of them turned around and squinted.

  “Shush,” she said, reading him up and down.

  T.J. rolled his neck and avoided Shannon’s glare as the music began with a romantic ballad for a tango. Mark’s Sophia, began a sultry number in her red form-fitting dress that left nothing to the imagination. Her dark hair was neatly gathered in a tight bun to the side of her face, adorned with a large bright red poppy matching the color of her full lips. The crowd was hushed. Mark sat with his eyebrows raised, and T.J. could see the beginnings of a crooked grin forming in spite of his tense jaw muscles. T.J. smiled too, and just as their eyes met, Shannon gave him another jab in the ribs.

  Well, of course Shannon would be a little sensitive about her less than flat tummy. In her near-term condition, she couldn’t move about the dance floor with such ease and grace. T.J. wrapped his long arm over her thin shoulder and squeezed her to him. “You’re the most beautiful woman in here, babe,” he whispered.

  “Not that,” she whispered, as the woman in front of them sighed and fidgeted. “Look.” She pointed to a cluster of red-ruffled young girls with black low-heeled shoes similar to Sophia’s. The oldest among them appeared not to be beyond six years, and two of them were barely out of diapers. When the music ended, Sophia took her bow to a standing ovation, and the cloud of red chiffon raced to take positions encircling her legs.

  With arms raised above their heads, waiting for the music to begin, the young girls surveyed the crowd with wide dark eyes, glitter spray sparkling in their hair and over their young cherubic faces. As the Latin beat began, they twirled and strutted with remarkable skill, with only an occasional mishap. The audience spontaneously clapped in rhythm to the music, which seemed to foster enthusiasm among the young dancers eager to perform.

  At last, the youngsters and their teacher were given a standing ovation. The group performed another routine and the girls were released to sit with their parents in the audience.

  T.J. could see the excitement in Shannon’s eyes, and he knew their little Courtney would someday take lessons here. “I can just imagine how cute she’ll be,” T.J. said, as he pulled several flowing curls back behind Shannon’s ear. “She’ll probably be the tallest, too!” Shannon nodded with a smile on her lips.

  Sophia directed a series of partnered dances with the older children. There being a lack of boys in the class, most of the “couples” were two girls dancing together.

  A modern jazz troupe with ragged clothing performed a difficult choreographed set of numbers, ending in a swing-fest the audience loved.

  At last the music turned distinctly Eastern, and the house lights were turned down low. With the audience dark, a spotlight flashed on the golden vision of Amornpan, encrusted in a costume that looked like exotic chainmail. Atop her head was a headdress, over a foot tall. Her heavily painted features made her look like a china doll, T.J. thought. Just as with Sophia’s performance, Amornpan moved with the grace and skill of a world-class dancer, her arms forming graceful angles, her head tilting horizontally as her fingers twisted backward, playing small bells and finger cymbals.

  Nothing about the costume, the sounds or the dancing were familiar. T.J. found himself holding his breath in spite of the fact that this woman was old enough to be his mother. Her grace and beauty rivaled any twenty year old’s. He found Timmons standing in the shadows in the back corner transfixed, arms crossed, and his face unreadable. T.J. knew the man’s
private thoughts were deep. He was happy for him.

  After the performance, several of the SEALs and their wives and girlfriends went to a local microbrewery that also played sports on big screen TVs. Mark and Sophia were talkative, chattering and kissing, while feeding each other finger food. Timmons dropped by with Sanouk. Kyle and Christie were there, as were several others, including Fredo and Mia.

  They all stopped and observed a news bulletin that interrupted the ball game announcing a terrorist beheading of another male American journalist, along with a female aid worker.

  The American journalist was captured over a year ago and several attempts to locate and free the man and two others, were unsuccessful. Another aid worker from the U.K was executed a month ago.

  The Team guys shook their heads, taking short looks at each other as they shared their private thoughts in mixed company. Team business was never discussed in front of the wives unless absolutely necessary. Since there was little chance they’d be deployed sooner than three months, all they could do was register their disgust, but T.J. knew everyone was thinking the same thing. The groups were getting bolder and bolder. It wouldn’t take long before some of these actions would take place on American soil. And that meant innocents would be targeted.

  The announcer came on and showed a scratchy sign written in Arabic. Jones squinted and swore, being the most fluent in Pashto. T.J. could recognize some characters and saw the distinctive “U.S” letters on the sign.

  “The threat is considered credible. Members of the military and their families are being targeted. No one is safe, no matter where they live. No one.

  The announcer signed off, and the news station made a brief statement T.J. couldn’t make out, and then the ball game went back on. Most everyone was looking into their water glasses and beers, but as if on cue they looked over to Kyle.

  “Well, there’s no fuckin’ thing we can do about it right now, so let’s toast to Sophia and Mark. Hooya!” Kyle boomed.

  Glasses were raised and the chant was repeated, adding Mark and Sophia’s names.

  “Where’s your mom, Sanouk?” T.J. asked the gangly kid, in the silence that followed.

  “She’s cooking something special. A dessert for …” Sanouk threw a thumb in Timmons’ direction. T.J. had never seen the man blush before, but he was bright red.

  “Oh, this is serious shit, man,” Fredo began. “When the woman starts making desserts, you got yourself trapped, man. They break out all the stuff they do really well, and then later, it’s all TV dinners and—”

  “What the fuck you talking about?” Kyle blurted. “You’ve never been fuckin’ married, Fredo.”

  Jones added his opinion to the mix. “As a matter of fact, I don’t think any woman has been brave enough to cohabitate.”

  The crowd laughed at Fredo’s expense.

  “So you gonna just sit there and take that, or you gonna tell them?” Mia said to Fredo, who was the second man T.J. had seen blush tonight.

  “I proposed to Mia last Saturday night, and she said yes.” Fredo could hardly look at anyone, and ducked his head like a beer had been poured on him.

  “I hope Armando’s okay with this. Mister don’t mess with my sister,” Kyle added.

  Christy stood, leaned into Fredo’s back, and gave him a bear hug from behind with a kiss on the cheek. The cat-calls were long and loud.

  “You done good, Fredo. Congrats you two,” Christy said as she winked at Mia.

  “Thanks.”

  T.J. felt Shannon stiffen at the early talk of Fredo’s engagement, but he gave her a warm smile and a kiss, and she leaned into him with a sigh.

  “So that’s two weddings,” Nick said as he drilled a look at T.J. and Shannon.

  “We’re doing it backwards, guys,” T.J. said softly. “Having the baby first, and then if I do well enough in the delivery room, perhaps Shannon will marry me afterwards. But she needs to know I can handle myself in childbirth.”

  “Oh T.J., that’s not what I said.” Shannon had slapped his arm, but she was smiling in spite of herself.

  “Wasn’t what you said, honey. I read your mind.” T.J. pointed to his temple and got another arm slap for his troubles.

  “When’s the funeral, Fredo?” Sanouk asked. Mia scowled.

  Fredo cracked a smile that completely bisected his face and spread his already wide nose. “Going to Vegas this weekend. Who wants to give me away?”

  Chapter 18

  Shannon had felt slightly sick to her stomach at the brewery, so T.J. took her home early. She noticed her fingers and ankles were swollen, and they hurt from the pressure.

  “Gotta get you off those feet,” T.J. said. “You going to be able to sleep, honey?”

  “Not with this nausea.”

  “If you’re not feeling better by later this evening, I’m calling the doctor.”

  “I agree.” Shannon had to admit, she was a little concerned by how quickly her mood changed with her upset stomach.

  She took a cool shower and donned a big shirt, readying herself for bed.

  It was usually comfortable in San Diego, since the temperature never varied by more than a few degrees all year round, but today there was no breeze coming off the ocean. She got up and turned on the window air conditioner that looked nearly as old as she was, but nothing happened. T.J. was working on his computer in the living room with a headset so he could listen to his warrior music and not bother her. He had been obsessed with news accounts from North Africa, and although he never said so, Shannon suspected that was where they were headed on their next deployment.

  Standing in the doorway, she watched him hunch over the blue light from his laptop. His enormous shoulders tapered down to an impossibly thin waist, which she noticed now more than ever, due to her condition. The baby had been lazy all day, but as she ran her hand over her eight-months-pregnant tummy, she whispered to Courtney. “Won’t be long now, sweetheart. Can’t wait to hold you in my arms.” She rubbed back and forth and hummed a little tune she’d been sung as a child, and eventually Courtney started moving slowly, almost in rhythm to the music.

  She knew she should try to get her rest, because she’d been advised these quiet nights wouldn’t always be here. And then she’d be nursing a young baby with T.J. overseas. Knowing how she’d worried about Frankie, as it turned out for good reason, she wouldn’t be getting any sleep even if the baby didn’t keep her up all night. There were still so many unsettled things.

  T.J. sensed her presence and came over to her, kneeled and spoke to Courtney. “You keeping your mama up all night, darlin? Gotta let her get her rest so she can be strong to handle you.”

  He stood up and she buried her head into his shoulder and wept.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  “I feel like it’s the quiet before the storm, T.J. I feel like I need to be prepared, like something’s going to happen that will rip me from this peace.”

  T.J.’s hands were all over her back, her neck. He knew just where to knead her upper spine so as to work out the kinks and make her feel rubbery. “Good that you recognize that. We have down time overseas, too, but we know better than to let our guard down.” His breathing was heavy as he shook his head.

  “What is it? What aren’t you telling me, T.J.?”

  “You saw that report on the news tonight, babe?”

  Shannon nodded, but stayed wrapped in the safety of his arms.

  “You gotta be vigilant, watch everything and everyone around you. Especially when I’m gone, but even now. Things are changing out there, and some of the arena we’ve been working in is coming home to the U.S. We’ll get them, that’s for certain. We’re hoping to minimize the threat, but we can’t be everywhere.”

  “You really believe that guy?”

  “They went after the World Trade Center twice before they got it right. These zealots are different from us because they don’t value human life, so their own death means nothing. What we don’t understand is how someone who is rai
sed here and given so much could turn and want to destroy us. Those are the ones we probably can’t stop, until the entire movement is crushed or some cooler heads prevail. Contrary to what some media centers say, we didn’t cause this. It’s because of who we are that they come for us. And if they can’t get us on the battlefield, they’ll try to pick off some of our non-combatants, our families.”

  “I hate to even think about that.”

  “I know, sweetie. But you have to. Your instincts are good. Stay alert. Know where that loaded gun is at all times. Never be without it when I’m gone, understand?”

  His warm hands cupped her cheeks as he savored her lips slowly. She felt his heat coming on, mingling with hers, and allowed it to deliciously subside. She was ready to not be pregnant and could hardly wait.

  T.J. escorted her back to the bedroom. “Couldn’t get the air to work. Can you?”

  “I’ll go get one tomorrow, but lemme look at it.”

  Shannon got into bed, covered herself with just one sheet and lay back to watch T.J. fiddle with the knobs and then finally pound the top of the machine with his fist. The unit slowly sputtered to life.

  “You’re so masterful!” She extended her arms to the sides to invite him into her bed.

  “Not really, I just knew where to hit it. You heard about the guy who was hired to fix some big machine in a factory and insisted he be paid up front?”

  “No. Who was he?”

  “It’s a story, babe. He gets paid ten thousand dollars, walks into the plant and hits a pipe with his wrench and the machine starts working. The factory owner cries foul.”

  T.J. pointed to the air conditioner.

  “The fixit man said, Hey, I did my job. It’s fixed. The factory manager said, But all you had to do was bang on one pipe. That’s not worth ten thousand dollars. The man said, One dollar for hitting the pipe and nine thousand nine hundred nine-nine dollars for knowing where to hit it.

  “I don’t care. You’re still amazing.”

  “I think it was frozen up, and a chunk of ice fell outside. That’s all.”