SEAL Firsts

by Sharon Hamilton

  T.J. released the agent before the door burst open and two other agents poured in. They were sent outside immediately. Agent Asshole straightened his tie and smirked. “I don’t like you, Talbot. We can do this hard or soft. But something tells me you like it hard, so I’m not going to play that game with you. We got us some homegrown terrorists with special knowledge of your particular family’s whereabouts. We’ve got stories of bloody handprints in places where you were, conflicting witness descriptions, and an assault on your girlfriend while you are in Tennessee visiting a man you hated your whole life. It just doesn’t all add up.

  He worked at adjusting his mood before he got home. It did feel restricting, trying to play nice when he was angry at so many things. He was angry Shannon had gotten injured. Angry that she was naturally so understanding and compassionate towards his family, when he found it difficult to even think about them. Shannon was consumed by the baby, and although he expected this, he didn’t expect that it would pick a scab with him. He felt invisible.

  In the old days, before Shannon, a good old night of doing all kinds of things he’d regret the next morning was the call to order. But it was out of the question, and up until now, that had not appealed to him.

  He told the Bensons he was going to take a short nap before dinner, retreating to the back bedroom where Courtney was sleeping. Looking down on the baby, he asked himself again why circumstances had taken Frankie, who was loved, cherished and honored by this family and by Shannon, and left him behind in the man’s place. A reject. A raging war still brewing inside him. Full of flaws. He was unfamiliar with not being in control, worried about being good enough, deserving enough to be able to protect Shannon and his new daughter. Did Shannon deserve better? Was it right for him to reap the rewards someone else had sowed? Was this stealing?

  He moved to the high-backed reading chair and let the mood wash over him. We celebrate when we can, and we cry when we must. It was just like the arena. The waiting was the worst.

  Shannon entered the room with a basket of laundry.

  “Whoa, T.J.” She set the basket at her feet and knelt in front of him. “Where did you go?”

  “Sorry, Shannon. I’m not doing this very well, am I?”

  “Doing what?”

  “I feel Frankie—” He had to stop because he didn’t want to show her the depth of his darkness.

  Shannon slipped onto his lap. Her easy demeanor usually lessened the burden, but tonight it annoyed him. He didn’t want her pity.

  “I feel Frankie all over this house too. His pictures from his Little League teams are still on their dresser. Our wedding pictures are in the hallway, did you notice?”

  T.J. nodded. One of the first things he noticed was that. He remembered how he felt that day. He was focusing on trying to get laid, and still knew that Frankie was one of the luckiest men alive. And now she was here with him.

  “I think your mom was right. I never should have gone to Nashville. I should have been here. Maybe we could have caught all those guys, and we wouldn’t have to move or impose on the Bensons.”

  Shannon held his face between her palms. “Hey. T.J. This isn’t you. Where is all this coming from? No one is saying those things except you. We don’t know why things happen. You were honoring the request of a dying man, your father.”

  “Who was a prick and an asshole.”

  “But the important thing is that you did the honorable thing. I can’t believe I’m hearing this.” She stood, hands on her hips. “Is this the way you’re going to be? Because if so—”

  “Don’t say it, Shannon.

  “What? You mean I can’t tell you the truth? After what we’ve all been through in these past two months? We have to start couching our communications around each other? We’re not strong enough to face the facts?”

  “That’s unkind, and you know it.” He was seething. He felt his anger was becoming directed at her. He felt as hopeless as the child he was in the woodshed. He couldn’t solve the problem. He had to wait to do anything, and waiting was totally the pits. He hoped Shannon had the control to stop, because he wasn’t sure he did.

  “I’m not buying this, T.J. I’m not going to spend my whole life walking around on eggshells, pretending things are one way, when reality says it’s another.”

  “Whose reality? Yours? Mine? The Bensons? Those assholes? My dear old dad?”

  “You’re confused.”

  “I’m not confused. I fuckin’ know who I am and don’t need you fuckin’ telling me otherwise.” His voice boomed and bounced off the walls, waking Courtney.

  “Well, I hope you’re satisfied.” She turned her back to him and picked up the baby. On her way out of the room she delivered the kill shot. “You’re not the only one who’s lost someone, T.J. Man up.”

  He grabbed his car keys and stormed out of the Benson’s house without saying a word. He got in his pickup, wanting to make a public display, to squeal down the road, but at the last minute remembered who he was and what he was really fighting.

  And then he knew what he had to do.

  Chapter 34

  The Bensons were understanding after hearing the argument, but clearly didn’t know what to do. Shannon and T.J. hadn’t really settled in. This loving couple had been delighted to spend so much time around the baby, and now T.J. was going to mess this all up.

  She’d been telling herself she had to be strong, and all this nightmare would be over soon, but now she had serious doubts. Perhaps the attack in the hospital was the easy part. Maybe she and T.J. were not going to work out, and she’d go back to considering raising a child alone, back full circle from where she’d started a couple of months ago right after Frankie’s death.

  Mrs. Benson brought her a hot cup of herbal tea, which was a lifesaver. As soon as she took a sip, she felt her milk let down and Courtney nearly choked on the stream that came towards her.

  “Thank you,” she said to the kind woman.

  “Used to work for me every time with Frankie. As a baby, he’d get so hungry and frustrated. The more he fussed, the tenser I became. Then of course the milk didn’t come. It’s always touch and go with your first, they say. You start worrying about everything.”

  “You’re right. The little argument with T.J. didn’t help either.”

  “It happens. You know, Joe even asked me after Frankie was about a month old if I still loved him. Can you imagine? Here I was trying to be the best mom, thinking I was doing all the right things, and I’d forgotten to let him know how special he was to me.”

  Shannon thought that was very good advice.

  “He’s probably trying to work out his grief at losing his father. It comes on in strange ways. We’ve certainly learned a bit about that. When you least expect it, something will—” She abruptly stopped and gave her a warm smile. “I’m sure everything will work out just fine.”

  Shannon wished she could feel as assured.

  Courtney went down again, and the three of them ate dinner together without talking about T.J. Shannon was mulling their earlier words and grew more and more concerned she’d done irreparable damage to their relationship. She wanted to call him, but thought he’d feel chased. She decided she needed to trust him to come home soon.

  Ollie and Rory stopped by the house looking for T.J.

  “He left about an hour ago,” she told them.

  “That’s when he tried calling us. You know where he went?”

  “No. Sorry. He needed to do something. I’m not exactly sure what it was.”

  After the boys left, Shannon decided she would turn in early. She took a long hot shower and settled in to bed, reading herself to sleep.

  Two hours later, T.J. awakened her, kneeling at her bedside. “Wake up, Shannon,” he whispered.

  She could smell alcohol on his breath as he tenderly kissed her.

  “Come on honey, we have to talk.” He picked her up out of the bed and sat with her across his lap in the reading chair. She found the shelter of th
at spot just below his chin where her head fit so well, the warmth radiating from his body along with the sound of his heart and the ebb and flow of his breathing.

  She spoke to the top of his shirt, her forefinger tracing over his lower lip. “Where did you go?”

  “I went over to the house. I got out Frankie’s 30-year old whiskey we brought back from one of our cross-country trips and opened it. We were saving it for some special occasion.”

  “What’s the special occasion?”

  “Well, maybe I got ahead of myself.” His fingers worked over the tension he felt in her shoulders, her upper spine. Hear me out, Shannon. And then you tell me.”

  She lay back against his chest as he began again. His raspy voice was something she could listen to forever.

  “I was thinking about what was wrong with me. I have you. I have beautiful Courtney. My past is, well, behind me now. I have a sister. All the right parts are so right, and the wrong parts are gone. Except for this homegrown threat, which is real and considerable, everything about my life, our lives, is going well.”

  She snuggled closer to him and sighed. “Yes, T.J. we have it all.”

  “What happened in the hospital made me realize that anything can happen at anytime. We can’t control it all. Ever. We try, we pay attention, but it’s an illusion to think we can. We have to live with it.”

  She wasn’t sure where he was going with this.

  “And I’ve been fighting it, Shannon. I’ve been holding my breath and resisting this.”

  “Resisting what?”

  “Taking life on life’s terms.” He squeezed her tightly. “I was waiting until the baby was born. Then waiting until we were settled here. And honey, I don’t want to wait any longer. What if we all die tomorrow? I mean, Frankie taught us that.”

  She sat up and searched his face. She could see his full lips in the light of the moon and the reflection of light in his eyes. But she felt the warm arms that held her, the words that soothed her soul.

  He fumbled through his pockets until she heard paper rustle. He brought out a small brown envelope not any larger than a couple of inches long. He slipped his fingers inside, and she saw him draw out a plain gold band and hold it to the moonlight. “This belonged to my mother, and is all I have, all I can give you from my family, from my past. But if you’ll marry me, Shannon, it and everything else I am, everything else I own, is yours. Forever, honey.”

  She didn’t have to think about it. She placed her finger into the ring opening, allowing him to slide it on. Then, clasping his hand, she said, “It would be my honor.”

  He took his time with her. The careful, gentle nourishment he gave her in bed was more than sex. She let him start slow, matching his actions with her own. Her touch mirrored his. As he kissed and caressed her delicate places, sending her on a mind-bending journey of passion, her fingers traveled over the scars and wounds of this warrior, tracing the tats she could not feel but knew were there. She kissed the invisible scars in his heart, loved the little abused boy and the brave man who never gave up hope even in the face of tragedy. She could give him everything he needed. Frankie’s parents could be his parents. She and Courtney would be his family in every sense of the word, a better family, a family that would mirror the joy he brought to them.

  She pushed on his shoulders and guided him to lie on his back. Mounting him, she lowered herself on to him slowly. Her hands braced against his upper torso, she ground her pelvis down slowly, watching his face in the moonlight, and feeling the delicious sensations of their joining. She rocked and angled her body back and forth on him, squeezing her muscles, enjoying every inch of him deep inside her. She watched his eyes sparkle and non-verbally let him know how much she loved and cherished him.

  Their lovemaking was a sacrament. She felt her heart would forever be the sanctuary of his soul.

  His lips on fire muffled her cries. He waited for her explosion, before he plundered her deep, lodging himself until he began to spill, holding her so close she could barely breathe. He loved her with everything he had, and she knew that she would willingly take all the intensity, even the pain sometimes, and claim it for her own.

  She asked him for more lovemaking during the night, not able to get enough of him. She held up her hand with the ring shining in the midnight light and he kissed it, as he kissed the palm of her other hand where she’d been cut.

  “You are my warrior princess. Nobody should mess with you,” he whispered.

  “Except you. I want you to mess with me. Promise it will be like this every night?”

  He chuckled. “I’m not Superman.”

  “Yes, you are. We’ll train together.”

  “I like that kind of training.”

  Early in the morning, before the sun rose, Courtney needed another feeding. T.J. changed her very wet diaper and brought her into bed with them. He watched as the little mouth latched onto Shannon’s breast, while his fingers laced through her hair. He rubbed her temples.

  “So beautiful. I am the luckiest man in the world,” he said.

  “To me, you are the only man in the world.”

  Chapter 35

  T.J. got up at sunrise, slipped on some pajama bottoms and tiptoed quietly into the kitchen to brew some coffee. Movement outside got his attention, and he saw two men dart into the yard of the neighbors across the street. They were holding semi-automatics.

  He grabbed the landline and dialed Kyle.

  “I got two men outside the Benson house, I think with AKs.”

  “Shit. I’ll see who I can get on the way. Be there in ten. Hang on.”

  “Roger that one, big time.”

  He woke the Bensons from the master bedroom, who quickly made it into Shannon’s room. T.J. threw her a pair of his pajamas while she grabbed his shirt from last night from the floor.

  “I only saw two, but there could be more. You guys stay in here and wait.” He pulled a SigSauer from his duty bag, pulled the hammer back and handed it to Joe Benson. “If you have to. You got twenty-one chances.”

  “Right,” he answered.

  “This door is no cover, so move the chair in front of you, or use the mattress if you have to. Do not let anyone in here unless they knock four times, got it?”

  “Got it.” Benson said.

  “That means shoot them through the door if it starts to open without it.”

  “Got it.” But T.J. could see Joe’s hands shake and hoped the man wouldn’t shoot himself first.

  He grabbed his H&K and kissed Shannon. “Try to keep her quiet. She’s gonna freak if she hears gunfire.”

  He closed the bedroom door and wondered why they hadn’t come in the middle of the night, when the element of surprise would have helped them.

  Hiding just inside the second bedroom, which would be out of the line of fire if they came from either front or back, he texted Kyle:

  Family, closed door. Your ETA?

  Here. Got 3 more.

  !!

  Just then, he heard glass breaking and knew they were already in the house.

  Glass broken in kitchen.

  At the sound of movement in the kitchen, he knew they’d come in through the garage. Checking the windows in the bedroom, he did not see movement. He heard the staccato of a Middle Eastern tongue and decided the two were together in the kitchen.

  Conf 2 Cajuns.

  We’re coming from the rear. Armani front.

  He stored his phone, adjusted his grip on the H&K short barrel he’d brought with him, and readied himself. A dark shadow crossed the end of the hallway, just as he saw Armando on the outside run forward. If he was planning on a front door breach, T.J. would not have the shot he wanted or he’d hit his own guy. He’d have to wait for instructions.

  One gunman dressed in a black headdress but wearing sneakers and blue jeans came down the hallway, causing one of the floorboards in the old house to groan, and he stopped. T.J. saw the shadow form outside his door and couldn’t risk a peek. The door moved slightl
y so he blasted through it chest-height and heard the drop of a body and retreating footsteps.

  Courtney screamed, revealing the family location.

  Hearing glass crunch in the kitchen he guessed the gunman was headed back to the garage area but he couldn’t risk a shot. Nothing was moving on the other side of the door. Just then, the front door shattered in an explosive charge. Mere seconds later he heard the staccato of gunfire and a few seconds later heard the word, “Clear!”

  He was never so happy in his life to hear that word. Opening the door, he checked the body in front of him and confirmed he was shot through the heart.

  “Not so fast, you dog,” a voice said from the master bedroom behind T.J. “You will drop your weapon.”

  T.J. tried to turn.

  “Now! You will drop your weapon now!” And then the gunman addressed whoever was in the kitchen. “I have your man. You will surrender, or I put a bullet in his brain.”

  T.J. was still crouching, and he knew the gunman’s sole interest was to carry out the mission and probably not to take prisoners. He didn’t buy the stall. As the seconds ticked by, and he heard the man back down the hallway toward the closed door of his family’s hiding place, T.J. inhaled and yelled as loud as he could, “High.”

  Armando’s kill shot hit him in the middle of his nose, and his head exploded. T.J. scrambled to the back room to make sure there weren’t any others.

  “Clear,” he shouted.

  Armando’s smiling face appeared in the hallway.

  “Way to lie low, Talbot.”

  “Roger that. Knew you could make that shot.”

  “With my eyes closed.”

  T.J. stood up, knocked four times on the door and then stepped in.

  Joe Benson had been holding the gun out in front of him and was so rigid with fear that when T.J. entered he kept the gun aimed at him.