True Devotion

by Dee Henderson

  The three groups were beginning to move in sync. They were rehearsing to determine lines of fire, progression of movement, pausing at each step along the way to refine the plan. If they had to go to this fallback plan and take the device at the boat, they would have to be fast. They had to take control of the device, steal the ship, and get it moving out to sea before the men on the beach could coordinate an attack and overrun them.

  They had taken over a corner of the SEAL training grounds on San Clemente Island for the work. The mock-up wasn’t pretty, but it was a good replica of the boat deck, from the railings they had to climb over to the position of the cranes. Special attention had been paid inside the boat’s central hub so they could practice going through the doors and controlling the corridors. Doing the assault at night, on a rocking boat, possibly in the rain—all the past training and missions would be used to translate this exercise into the actual mission. They didn’t have a plan yet that satisfied Joe. Time was an enemy once the first shot was fired.

  This afternoon they would shift gears and work on their primary assault plan—taking the device while it was in transit from the boat to the runway. They would have the helicopter pilot who was deploying with them available then.

  The helicopter. That was one part of these plans that Joe found the most troubling. If something went seriously wrong, they were still depending on air to get the device out. They had to look at that part of the operation again. Still, control of the device was key. They had even figured out a backup plan to sabotage the device—rip out the circuit board guts, take the plutonium core, and get out.

  They would hopefully not need the fallback plans. If everything went right, this mission would go like clockwork. They would climb the cliffs, grab the device as it was in transit, and extract it by helicopter. Then two SEALs would slip down to the harbor and sabotage the boat, while three of them—Cougar, Boomer, and himself—would wait at the runway, sabotage the plane, and try to grab Raider.

  Joe let himself relax; the men would be ready. They would be running through these mission work-ups again tonight, swimming in from the sea.

  Where was Nick’s medallion? The urgent question came back center stage without being prompted.

  He felt like he had betrayed a friend. There was no way to replace it. He was afraid he had accidentally thrown it away; he simply couldn’t remember. He had folded up the paint-splattered newspapers, washed paintbrushes, carried the drop cloth outside, but he was still convinced the medallion had been there on the counter when he was done. He didn’t have the time to help Kelly look today, couldn’t even tell her why he wasn’t helping her. If it had been lost in the trash—it had been an accident, but he was responsible.

  When he told her tomorrow he was deploying . . . he didn’t want to see the suppressed fear he knew would be there.

  He understood it, felt for her, but he needed her to get past it for his sake. He didn’t need her fear rubbing off on him, didn’t need to carry the burden of knowing she was back home, afraid. He could only imagine her reaction if she knew he was going to confront the man who had ultimately been responsible for Nick’s death.

  Boomer got in his face and quietly hissed, “Get your act together.”

  It was like getting slapped by your mom for not listening. It stung. The men were ready, waiting on him, and his attention was not on the task at hand. His jaw tightened and he strode over to the stern of the ship mock-up where his men would climb over the side. They were taking their cues from him on how to treat the fact this was Raider they were going after, and he was letting them down. Big time. “Cougar, call the mark.”

  He wasn’t designed to handle a relationship, not if he couldn’t keep it out of his work life. Wherever he had gotten the impression Kelly and Nick had an easy time of it, he had been seriously mistaken. If he didn’t forget about Kelly while he was doing his job, the next time his attention strayed off focus he might be dead. Worse, someone else would be.

  I’m sorry, Kelly. I love you, but from now on, you don’t exist while I am at work.

  * * *

  The small-group Bible study at Christi’s that night was crowded. They were studying Luke, going through a chapter a week. God is my refuge . . . when I feel hurt. Kelly tried it out for size as she parked and walked up the drive, deciding it would do for tonight. The medallion was gone. Joe hadn’t called today, but she knew he was getting ready for something big and probably didn’t have a moment free to call. It didn’t take Christi telling her Boomer was likewise busy to know that.

  Kelly settled into a chair beside the couch and found herself drawn into a conversation with Ashley and Linda. They had both married in the last year, one to a banker and the other to a schoolteacher. She wished she could have the kinds of ups and downs they did. Trying to adapt to Joe was going to be harder than she had anticipated.

  “Joe isn’t coming?” Ashley asked.

  The habit of saying nothing was too ingrained to break. “I’m not sure what his schedule is tonight.”

  She found herself assigned to be the scribe as the evening began and Christi asked, “Are there any prayer requests tonight?”

  Tell them about what you decided in the water. Ask for their help with your quest.

  She couldn’t do it. The prompt burned in her heart, and yet she didn’t have the courage to tell these friends what she had talked to Mrs. Michaels about on Sunday. “I have one. I’ve lost Nick’s eagle medallion.” It was a compromise, but it at least admitted she was hurting.

  “Kelly, where? What happened?” Liz looked hurt she hadn’t mentioned it already.

  “Joe and I were painting the kitchen Tuesday night. I remember taking off the medallion and putting it on the counter before I went to get the paint supplies. Neither one of us remembers moving it, and we’ve looked everywhere. There’s a possibility when we were folding up the newspapers and drop cloth that it somehow got into the trash. We don’t know.” The fact it had been Joe who folded the newspapers, picked up the kitchen— She didn’t say it, for she knew how miserable he felt about it.

  Christi and Liz both volunteered to help her look for it. It was a balm to Kelly’s heart to know they understood how she felt.

  The evening eventually drew to a close with coffee and ice cream for those interested. Kelly got up to help Christi and was stopped several times by friends as she crossed the room. She finally faced one last question, and it wasn’t as friendly as it sounded.

  “I heard Joe took you to the Grill. Did you have a nice time?”

  Kelly didn’t know how to answer Veronica. She knew Veronica had been trying to get Joe’s attention for months, had talked openly about wanting Joe to take her out. The question had an edge to it. “I found the restaurant beautiful and the food very good.” Not talking about Joe seemed like the best thing she could do under the circumstances. Veronica wanted to ask another question, but Kelly managed to sidestep her with a smile.

  I can tell I’m dating again. The comments have started. She didn’t want to admit how good it felt, despite the comments.

  * * *

  The wind chimes were stirring. Joe sat on the one chair that fit on the balcony off his second-floor bedroom and listened to them, listened to the sea as well. The mission was ready. The men were ready. Tomorrow they would deploy.

  As the man responsible for the outcome, Joe felt the burden.

  Raider.

  Lord, I’m ready to kill, but it’s for the wrong reasons, and that bothers me more than the fact it might be necessary. He killed my best friend. This is personal. I can’t let this opportunity for justice pass by. I can’t afford to fail. Help me get my distance back, please.

  He did his best to avoid getting drawn into one of Kelly’s theological questions beginning with the word why. Tonight she would be surprised at the turmoil the ethics of war were creating in his soul.

  In a morally just cause, he could kill. The Old Testament was full of warriors whom God called his own: Gideon, Joshua. Davi
d was a man of war, and he was called a man after God’s own heart. Jesus Himself was called a man of war. At the end of the world, Jesus was pictured returning on a white horse carrying a sword and making war. There was a place for laws and justice, for men who waged war to uphold duty, honor, and country. Joe believed that. Nick had believed that and had died defending it. They protected the world from men like Raider.

  If he had to make a split-second decision between trying to take Raider alive or killing him, would he fire?

  All the factors that went into the decision played out in his mind: the risk to his own men to try to capture Raider, the absolute necessity that he be stopped, Joe’s personal need to see justice done.

  God, when the time comes, help me make the right decision.

  He prayed for the success of the mission.

  He prayed for the safety of his men.

  He prayed that God would help Kelly while she waited.

  Joe finally felt at peace with what was coming.

  Kelly. He let himself think about her for the first time that day. In one respect dating was proving to be a harder transition than he had thought. He was thinking about her at times when he couldn’t afford to be distracted.

  He was ashamed of the irritation he had felt earlier knowing she would likely be afraid when he deployed. It was selfish of him to ask her not to worry simply because he didn’t want to carry that burden of feeling responsible. He knew it wasn’t easy for her to date another active duty SEAL. Waiting was going to be hard on her, and if something happened—he didn’t want her to be hurt again as she had after Nick’s death.

  He wanted to call her but it was late.

  He went back into his bedroom, found a pad of paper and pen, and took a seat on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. He picked up his Bible. He was a new Christian compared to Kelly, and he didn’t know what to write, what to say to her if something should happen. But he had to leave her something. If she read this letter, he had to find the right words.

  Lord, what words of comfort will she need?

  He began the letter, Kelly, I love you.

  An hour later, he folded the two pages, closed his Bible, and carried both of them downstairs. He left the letter in his Bible on the dining room table and beside it placed an item he prized the way Nick had his eagle. It was a grizzly bear, carved decades before, in burnished wood. His father had given it to him.

  * * *

  As soon as she opened the patio door Friday evening, she knew he was leaving. Joe was in woodland green cammies, not the desert cammies he normally wore at NAB.

  “Kelly, I’m going to be gone for a while.”

  Simple words. They put her facing her biggest fear less than a week after she agreed to start dating him. Saying yes had been so easy and dealing with the reality of this was so hard. The emotions went through her in an instant.

  I love you, Joe. I wish I were free to say that again.

  Her hand tightened on the door handle behind her. She absorbed every nuance of his face, memorizing it, knowing she had once before said good-bye to a man she loved and never had the opportunity to see him again. “I’ll get Misha for you and your mail,” she said softly, not willing to put her emotions into words. She didn’t want Joe thinking about her. She wanted—needed—him to have the distance, that mission face, as Nick had called it, the focus on what he had to do.

  “I would appreciate it.”

  He ran his hand gently down her cheek and she instinctively pressed against it. “I’m going to miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you too.”

  “Can I kiss you good-bye?”

  She wasn’t expecting the soft question. A good-bye kiss wasn’t like just another kiss. It carried so many resonating memories with the past and that last kiss she had shared with Nick. If something went wrong, it might be her last kiss with Joe, and she didn’t want to have bittersweet sadness tinge the memory. Did he understand any of that? Was that why he had asked first? Her nod was so imperceptible she wondered if her muscles had frozen.

  His fingers tipped her chin up as he lowered his head. He tasted like coffee, his lips firm, smooth, and warm against hers. The kiss was soft and gentle, definitely checked. The passion she could feel enveloping her was being tempered and held back. He didn’t want this one to get out of control, and she both regretted and was grateful for that fact. Stirring passion would eat them both alive with frustration. He raised his head with reluctance, caressing her lips with his thumb. “Kissing you is . . . very nice.”

  “Come back so we can do it again,” she whispered.

  “You give a man a good reason to hurry back.” He eased back a step. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Be careful, Joe.”

  “Kelly—” his confidence came through in the direct gaze—“trust me.”

  He left as suddenly as he had come.

  * * *

  The C-130 was loaded with equipment. Joe moved among the men, doing one final check before the plane went wheels up. It was coming up on 2000 hours, Friday night. It would be a long, noisy, rough flight. Thirteen hours in the plane without the benefit of an in-flight movie or even windows to enjoy the view. The C-130 carrying the other two platoons had lifted off earlier in the day.

  With “good-to-go” replies among all the men, Joe moved back to his seat beside his second-in-command.

  Boomer had brought along a thick thriller. Joe slipped on his headphones to add Mozart to the noise and opened a commentary he had brought along. Heavy reading, but it required his undivided attention, and that was the best way to handle an upcoming mission—to stop thinking about it.

  Kelly, I’ll be back soon. Then you and I need to talk. I already miss you.

  The plane moved with a heavy reluctance, used an incredible amount of runway, and lifted into the sky bound for the Far East.

  Twenty-Four

  * * *

  Joe’s home was quiet, still. Misha met her at the door, whined softly, and Kelly knew the animal sensed the fact Joe was gone. Misha looked sad, had no spring to her step. Rather than pass her by to do the chores that needed to be done, Kelly sat down beside her and wrapped her arm around the dog. “I know you miss him, Misha. I do too.”

  She rubbed the golden coat. “I love him. He leaves and the energy in my day disappears.” She tipped up the dog’s face. “Would you like to come keep me company while he’s away?”

  The question earned her a wet nose in the face. Kelly buried her face in Misha’s warm fur. She loved this dog. And while Joe was gone, Misha would be more comfortable at her home.

  Kelly forced herself to get to her feet. There were chores to do since Joe would be gone an indefinite period of time. Kelly found plastic bags and tackled his refrigerator to remove anything that would spoil in the next few days. A glance showed he had already carried out his trash. There were two messages on his answering machine, and she wrote down a dentist appointment reminder and a note that the library book he had requested had come in.

  The house felt empty without Joe. She could stay for a while, surrounded by his things, but it would only make the loneliness more acute. If Joe didn’t come home—the idea made her feel slightly sick. She knew he was good at his job, was well prepared, had good men with him. She had been here before. But the last time God hadn’t protected Nick, and the returning fear tasted sour.

  Lord, don’t let me doubt Your love and Your power. Not when I’m working my way back to a relationship with You. Please keep Joe safe.

  She needed to assume the best and not the worst. Kelly forced a smile as she looked down at Joe’s dog. “Come on, Misha. Let’s go home.”

  * * *

  Kelly woke Saturday morning, glanced sleepily at the clock, and came abruptly awake. The team would have arrived wherever it was going by now. The blankets had bunched to one side of the bed, and the pillows had dropped between the bed and the side table. She tugged them back up.

  She had faced many mornings like this when Nick was al
ive, the first day she woke up with him somewhere unknown. And despite how new and more intense this one felt, she had gone through days like this with Joe during the last three years. Waiting was hard. But it was not knowing that was the hardest. Until a page came from the dispatcher saying he was back or to say an e-mail had arrived for her, she was on her own.

  Lord, I promised I would bring You my troubles. Here I am, facing the tough challenge I knew would come when I considered Joe instead of a civilian. Keep the men safe. Give them success. And bring them home.

  Misha had curled up on the blanket Kelly had put down beside the bed. She reached over the edge of the bed and rubbed her head. The dog yawned. Kelly leaned her chin on her hand. “You look comfortable.” It was nice having Misha here. She could take her down to the beach later and throw a Frisbee around—it would kill a few hours of her day. She knew how long the days would stretch, and filling the hours was a major part of the challenge.

  Boomer was gone for an indefinite period of time as well. Maybe Christi would like to have a ladies’ night. If Liz was free, they could make an evening of it. In the old days when Nick had left on deployments, the platoon wives had a standing arrangement to get together that first night. They would come and go from either Kelly’s or Christi’s home, coordinating babysitting and errands so that no one in the group would be left in the lurch by the sudden deployment. Kelly missed that part of the routine. She reached for the phone and found that Liz was delighted with the idea. She had no more than hung up the phone when Christi called her with the same idea.

  With the evening plans settled, Kelly rolled out of bed, weighing options as she dressed for how to spend the day. When Joe got home, she’d like to have a special evening planned. She wanted to let him know she was glad to see him without overdoing it. She’d have to dig out her cookbooks and see if anything looked exceptional.