“Because you couldn’t understand why anyone would want to give up their own child?” Martel finished for her.
No one spoke or moved. Martel continued.
“You know, Ainsley, I think about that every day. And meeting you here today is my reward. I think I did the right thing, don’t you? Your life wouldn’t be anything like this. You have the perfect parents, and I can see, they have the perfect daughter.”
“Mom says you didn’t even tell him. Why did you do that, Martel?”
The use of her name instantly turned something on inside her. Her eyes watered but she worked to keep them in check without spilling over. Her stomach began to flip flop. Her parched mouth needed another drink, so she gulped down half the glass.
“Ainsley, I think it would be more appropriate to call her Miss Long. Although she’ll soon be Mrs. Hamlin, right?”
“Yes, in June.” She looked at her daughter. “You can call me Martel, whatever you like to call me. I’m not offended by any of it.”
The tiny white lie was eating a small hole in her gut, but she could handle it. Lori’s tense expression softened. Mark’s gaze was deflected, not engaging at all.
“Well, as long as I don’t have to call you mom. She’s my mom. He’s my dad. That won’t change, so I’ll have to think about it. But you are a teacher, and your kids call you Miss Long, right?”
“To my face, yes. Some call me other names, I’m sure.”
Ainsley grinned, showing off one tooth that had turned to the side and would require braces, and soon. Just like Martel had to do as a child.
“Your biological father is Damon Hamblin. I have a picture of the two of us here. Taken in Florida, where we met again, and where we are going to get married.” She handed the girl the photograph of the two of them at sunset.
Ainsley studied Damon’s face. She turned to Mark. “He sorta looks like a blonder version of you, Dad. Should I be expecting another secret here?”
Mark took the photograph, his mouth showing the faint remnants of a curious smile. “I don’t see it.” Then he turned his head and looked at it from another angle. “Maybe, yeah, maybe a little bit.”
He handed the photograph back to Martel.
“It’s yours, if you want it, Ainsley. You don’t have to accept it, but I planned on giving you a few pictures of our families, if you were curious.”
She wrinkled her nose. “No thanks. No offense, but it’s kind of creepy looking at people I’m related to and yet I don’t know them. But I’ll keep this one.” She placed it on the coffee table in front of her, staring down at it.
“Completely understandable,” Martel said as she put the other photographs back in her computer case and zipped it up. “My mother is passed, but my dad is still alive. But we don’t see each other much.”
She was instantly annoyed at her comment, as if babbling along would take the gunpowder out of the room. This was starting to be hard. Ainsley’s question still stuck in her heart like a fishhook. It was festering.
Ainsley reached for Mark’s wrist to check the time. Lori gave her a scowl. Martel was disappointed their meeting might be cut short, or Ainsley had lost interest, so she began words she’d rehearsed many times and now started repeating.
“Ainsley, I wanted to just tell you a couple of things, and then I guess you have to be off someplace else. I don’t want to keep you or interfere with your life in any way.”
“It’s okay. We’re good. I was just checking. Practice isn’t for another hour.”
“Okay, great.” Martel placed her palms together, bringing her twin third fingers up to her lips and then began again. “When I found out I was pregnant, Damon had already gone off to the Navy, to his training to become a SEAL. You know what a SEAL is?”
“The bad-ass dudes with all the tats.”
“Ainsley! That’s not very nice!” Lori shouted, her back stiffening.
“Well, I see them on T.V. The movies always show them with full sleeves, muscles.” She picked up their picture. “He’s got some.”
“They are elite military warriors, Ainsley,” Mark inserted. “Very, very dangerous work, and only a few can qualify to be on these teams. They’ve done some incredible things, and we owe them a lot.”
“I know that. I wasn’t saying—”
“Don’t forget to show your respect,” Lori whispered.
“So why didn’t this war hero come here and face me, huh?” Ainsley’s eyes suddenly got angry and red.
“Well, I made the agreement with your parents. We decided I’d meet you first and then we’d go from there. I—”
Ainsley was direct, interrupting. “So why didn’t you ask to bring him? And where was he all these years?”
It was a question Martel hadn’t been prepared for.
“I was young. My intention was never to interfere with your parents, Ainsley.”
“But now that he knows, where is he?”
“Because I didn’t give him a chance to. He’s only learned about you since Christmas. I never told him.”
“Why? Don’t you think he would want to know?” she asked. Again, her eyes looked like they were about to burst. “You wouldn’t like it if it was done to you, right?”
“No. You’re right. I tried to find him, but I honestly didn’t try very hard. My mind was made up. I was going to give you up for adoption. The most difficult decision I’ve ever made in my life, but it was the right one, Ainsley. He was off on his deployments and trainings, and when he didn’t come look for me, well, I figured he’d moved on. I didn’t want to interfere in his life either. But we met again at a wedding, and when we got close again, I told him.”
“So, was he pissed at you?”
“Ainsley watch your language, please,” said Lori Newberg.
“No, the truth is, he was ashamed. He feels he abandoned us both. It’s been a difficult thing for him to bear, and I know he still struggles with it.” Martel felt her voice quiver and her upper body shake. “I’ll be the first to admit, we both admit we made some mistakes. Lots of mistakes. But you were not one of them, sweetheart.”
That seemed to leave Ainsley without a retort. Satisfied perhaps she’d lowered the pressure a bit, Martel gathered her thoughts carefully. “He asked me to tell you that he loves you, we both love you, and that he agrees I did the right thing by giving you to a loving family who could do all the things we couldn’t do, so you could have a life you wouldn’t have had with us. He wanted me to tell you we did it because we love you.”
Ainsley sat back into the couch, crossing her arms about her chest. Her chin was low, edges of her mouth pointing down and a worry line appeared at the bridge of her nose. She bit her lip in reflex and then said,
“So, what do we do now?” she said haughtily, fussing with her clothes and averting her gaze. “Am I supposed to accept that I have four parents now instead of two?” Before Lori could run over to her, she continued, “What if that’s not what I want?”
Lori was at her side, hugging her, holding her head against her chest. “Ainsley, sweetheart, I know it’s confusing, but no, nothing’s changed. Nobody is going to make you do anything. All of our lives stay the same. We’ll always be your parents; we love you and we’re raising you. That’s not going to change. I’m sorry, maybe this wasn’t a good idea—Mark?”
“It’s up to you, kid. You don’t ever have to see her again if you don’t want to. That’s the deal we made with her. You agreed on that basis. I believe her at her word, if that’s what you want, that’s exactly what you’ll get. Miss Long is fine with that. The only one who has any decision to make is you, Ainsley. It’s all up to you, and always has been.”
“Well, I was curious,” she began tentatively, “What kind of a person could have the heart to give their child away. I’ve thought about you a lot too, Miss Long. Except I didn’t look at you in a good way at all. I thought you were some kind of monster. I still don’t understand how you could do that, but you’re nicer than I imagined. But I don
’t want you to hurt my parents. I don’t think I want to do anything to cause that to happen.”
Martel was stunned with the truth, the anger in her young soul. It wasn’t what she expected, but Damon had warned her about this. She was about to gather her things and suggest they terminate the meeting when Ainsley added,
“I don’t think I could ever be friends because I don’t trust you.” She reached across the table, picked up the picture of the two of them, and handed it back to Martel. “I don’t want this. Maybe I will later, but not now.”
Ainsley got up and ran upstairs. Martel heard a door slam shut.
And then that familiar cold silence, her broken heart in freefall.
Chapter 7
Damon grabbed a burger at the Scupper and joined several others from Team 3. They were inside the back room at the rear of the restaurant, where all the trophy pictures and flags were pinned, sort of the unofficial SEALs of Coronado clubhouse. Several of their members in past classes had spray-painted frog and tadpole pictures on the wall, along with some of the class logos, even class tee shirts were mounted and framed, as well as pictures of various campaigns in countries all over the world. Nothing was labeled, nor would mean anything to anyone else but those who knew these men by their faces.
He decided to slather his insides with the greasy but delicious fries and the double buffalo burger with extra cheese, along with a long neck, because he wasn’t in Martel’s company. She’d be horrified at his menu choice.
There was the usual smack talk, teasing someone who got engaged, someone who had a birthday, or someone who got their wife knocked up. It was low level talk, mindless, irreverent, and didn’t mean the disrespect it might sound to the untrained ear. It was merely a platform to go to when doing that basic communication when you really had nothing important to say. It was just touching and feels on the verbal side.
Several high school hotties swung back around after having spotted them through the open doorway. Probably on a dare, these young, too-young ladies had probably dared themselves to enter their den because one of them asked for their autograph. This kind of fraternization was discouraged, for obvious reasons, so one of the SEALs signed a small notebook as SEAL Team 3, and his name, which wasn’t legible. In this way, the girls would leave quickly, without lingering any longer than necessary. It was handled in a way that wasn’t rude but curtailed the meeting efficiently so that the appearance of something else was lessened.
But it was always a problem. They were always a target. And to those who couldn’t help themselves being in the limelight, couldn’t help making names for themselves either by writing a tell-all book or going on a bunch of interviews, which also was discouraged, these encounters were mistakes. They were supposed to do the impossible: be invisible. But everyone had an opinion and a story about SEALs, so everyone clamored for their attention.
But if he wanted to, Damon could go around posing, boasting about things he never did.
That disgusted him.
So, it was back to the low-level smack talk.
“I understand Libby and the cheerleaders made you some Save The Date cards. How come you’re not passing them around, you dork,” one of the newbies asked Damon.
“As a matter of fact,” he said as he pulled out one card and handed it to Cooper. “None of you assholes are invited,” he finished.
That bought him some scorn. Coop examined the card, winked and put it in his pocket. “We’ll try,” he mouthed across the table. “So, Martel’s back in Florida?” he then asked.
“Not sure, actually.” Damon checked his phone. “I should hear any minute how the meeting went. You know, the meeting?”
Cooper nodded and sipped his ice water. He’d eaten all his lettuce and tomato and half his garden burger, served dry as toast, but none of the bread. He had a few sweet potato fries—toasted, not deep fried—left on his plate and Damon grabbed one. It tasted like cardboard.
“Even when Libby’s not around, you still eat like this?” he said to the team’s lead medic.
“Hey, I’m the reason the family eats this way. It starts with me. Libby would have one of your buffalo burgers if it were left up to her, smeared an inch thick with mayonnaise.” He tossed a fry in his mouth and wiggled his eyebrows. “But I got her trained.” His eyes sparkled.
The rest of the younger SEALs, most of them single, added some very disrespectful comments to that. It had been a challenge all during dinner to see who could pose the best one-liner.
Fredo was sitting next to Coop. “No lie, Damon, Coop here knows about this shit. You want to have children? You start eating tofu and drinking gallons of water. I’m living proof of that.”
Damon had heard the story of how Fredo had been despondent to learn he was sterile, and he had hidden it from his wife. Cooper had put him on a health regimen, and all of a sudden Mia got pregnant with twins. It seemed to have reversed his sterility problem. The two SEALs were best friends, but a very mismatched pair.
He didn’t say it, but Damon knew he didn’t have a sterility problem. Coop sent him a wink of understanding.
All of a sudden, all their phones vibrated or pinged, which meant something was up, and it was an emergency. Damon checked the message.
Emergency deployment in one hour. Team 3 building. Urgent DTI looking for volunteers. Please respond and then present if available.
Damon pushed the confirmation letter, “C” and saw Coop had done the same. It was never optional for the medic, or for Fredo, but some from their team might be with family for the Valentine holiday, and it sounded like they wanted a small group.
“Adios, Amigos,” Coop said, standing, pulling up his kakis. Duty calls.”
Fredo, Damon and several others stood as well and left the others to finish their beers.
“Hey Coop, I got my girl coming in tomorrow from Connecticut,” said one of the tadpoles. “Tell Kyle, okay?”
“Not a problem, but that’s your story to tell. You go be with your girl. You need a full rotation to go on these, because they’re not training missions, froglet,” Coop said, patting the young SEAL’s shoulder.
As they exited the Scupper and headed for their vehicles, Damon asked the two of them, “So, it’s Mexico, is it?”
“I’m guessing. Kelly Fielding and Ridgway left yesterday. I’m thinking they got into some trouble. But it’s just a guess,” Coop whispered. “You didn’t hear it from me.”
“Got it. And Holy Shit. See you in a few,” signed off Damon as he ran for Monica, his bright blue Hummer.
By the time he hit the Team 3 building, with all his gear, he felt like he’d been running for the last hour straight. He’d already sweat through his fatigues. He liked to travel in those because they were indestructible, and sometimes they rode in transports that were drafty with uncomfortable seating arrangements. It was sometimes good to have an extra layer covering his lower limbs, and if he messed them up, they were easy to replace.
But he still hadn’t heard from Martel. He decided he’d better give her a call.
Her voice was shaky when she answered.
“Hey there, so you’re still standing. How was it?” He pushed his more optimistic side out first so his annoyance with her lack of contact didn’t seep through. This was something he’d had to learn the hard way.
“It didn’t go very well. I was trying to sort my thoughts before I called you. I’ve been crying for the past two hours.”
Oh shit. Just what we need right now.
“Look, Martel, I’m real sorry to break this to you, but I’m off on an emergency run, so I’ll be sort of MIA on you. Anything you need?”
“How long?”
“I have no idea. Hopefully not long. This isn’t our regular workup. Something special.”
She caught the implication. “I’m sorry I didn’t—”
“Look, I got no time for this, honey. Sorry, but have to go. Just give me a brief rundown if you can. I’ve only got a minute or so before they call the meeting.
”
This was the bad thing about their quick deployments. They never came at opportune times, and they hadn’t had much time to prepare, except they were preparing and training all the time between deployments.
“She got angry at me, Damon. She refused all the pictures. I guess I didn’t handle it very well.”
“Was there an argument?”
“No. She just had an attitude.”
“Well of course she would. Wouldn’t you?”
“I was expecting—” Martel broke off in a sigh, then a sniffle.
“Fantasyland. I told you about that. Hurts, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, you did. I still walked right into it.”
“She’s got a right to feel how she feels. She’ll either get over it, or not. But you did what you wanted to do, right?”
“I guess.”
“Come on, Martel, you didn’t expect her to say, ‘Oh momma! So happy to see you at last!’ Right? I mean, come on. Give her some slack. But don’t lie to yourself and don’t lie to me, Martel. You did what you wanted. We don’t have any right to anything else. You know that.”
There was silence on the other end. This sucked all to hell and back a dozen times.
“Say something, please.” He knew she’d beat herself up if she didn’t, and he got injured. Now her mood was infecting him, dammit.
“I don’t like accepting that, but you are right. And I got to tell her we both loved her. She got to hear that. Maybe she didn’t want to. Maybe that’s what triggered it. Finally meeting me. But I didn’t lose it until I got back into my car and got down the end of the block so the Newbergs didn’t see me. They apologized for her, but I told them I understood.”
“I think you did perfect, sweetheart.” He meant it. Martel was the bravest woman he’d met. “Just don’t go telling yourself fairy tales, unless it’s about my performance in bed, okay?”
Martel chuckled at that. “Right. I can do that all day and night long.”
“You better. I’m sure going to be doing that.”
Second Chance Reunion Page 6