The Peaceful Warrior: Navy SEAL Romance

by Daniel Banner

  “Any time, man.” He’d always been there for the other guys and had never had trouble telling them that before, but now he wondered if he really could be there for them all the time. Life was suddenly complicated. It was what he’d come to talk to Sutton about.

  River left and Cannon felt relieved that he was past the small talk and could get to business with Sutton. He walked across the huge room to where Sutton sat at a desk with papers, maps, and house plans spread out over it. The room was the size of Cannon’s apartment and the million-dollar views were worth more than Cannon would make in a lifetime.

  “Is all that for River’s top secret mission?”

  “Aye,” said Sutton, finally looking up. “We’ve been at it all morning. Good timing, because he needed a break.” Sutton was in his late 40s, and still had the bearing of an admiral, but the body of a frontline Special Ops soldier. He also still had most of his British accent. Cannon always felt like he was talking to a truly experienced James Bond-type when he talked to Sutton.

  “I know things are crazy,” said Cannon as he sat in the chair across the desk. “Thanks for taking some time.”

  “Everything fine with Miss Gold?”

  “Perfect,” said Cannon. “It’s Miss Close I can’t figure out.”

  Sutton leaned back in his chair, finally understanding what was so urgent, and apparently amused by it. “She’s the young lady you met on the train.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And why do you think I know the first thing about women?” His eyes went to the desk and one hand absentmindedly covered a photo, but not before Cannon saw that it was that beautiful British Lady who was always on the red carpet. Liz … Gunthry? She was often called the most beautiful woman alive or something like that, but Cannon never paid attention to British royalty or celebrities in general. “Maybe I should get Agatha in here.”

  “No!” said Cannon. “Let’s keep this between us men.”

  Sutton sat up and studied Cannon. “You’re the one the guys go to when they need some guidance. You tell them how to fix their problems.”

  “I don’t tell them,” said Cannon, and it was true. “They talk about it and figure it out themselves.”

  “All you do is listen? A broken telephone box could do that.”

  “All right,” said Cannon. “Sometimes I throw out one or two carefully crafted questions and maybe a scripture if I’m feeling pious that day.”

  “I know even less about women than I do about American Football, but if you’re fine with me using your technique against you, let’s give her a try.”

  Sutton wasn’t one for long, redundant stories, so Cannon described their relationship as briefly as possible, up to the texts about figuring out his priorities. Sutton tented his fingers and rested them over his jaw. A full minute passed before he said, “You bring this up at an … interesting time, and I can’t help but wonder about the timing.” He paused and looked out the window at the ocean for a bit. Still not looking at Cannon, he said, “I lost the woman I loved because I put something else before her.”

  That was news to Cannon. “The Royal Navy? Your career?”

  Sutton nodded, still gazing out over the ocean. “I’d trade it all.”

  Cannon was too stunned to speak for a while. “Are you telling me—”

  “That’s not how it works,” interrupted Sutton. “I’m only supposed to ask short questions, possibly biblical in nature. Not tell you anything. So, isn’t there something about putting off childish things?”

  If Sutton didn’t know there was, he wouldn’t have asked. “It’s in Corinthians,” said Cannon. “When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child, but when I became a man, I put away childish things.”

  Sutton nodded. “Are you ready to be a man?”

  “What? Because I’m doing my duty and being loyal to my fellow SEALs?”

  Sutton’s eyebrows rose again, as if Cannon had answered his own question, but he still had no idea what Sutton was trying to tell him.

  Since Sutton wasn’t going to explain, Cannon said, “I know the British Royal Navy isn’t quite the SEALs, but you know we are considered men among boys wherever we go. A SEAL is the pinnacle of manliness. Nothing against Her Majesty’s fleet or its sailors, but when I gave up being a Navy Chaplain to become a Navy SEAL, that’s when I became a man.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes,” said Cannon confidently. “That’s when I put off childish things.” No child could go through the training he’d received. No child could experience what Cannon and the others went through in the Philippines, Iraq, Somalia, Afghanistan.

  Sutton just nodded slightly and bored into Cannon with his eyes. Is this how the other guys saw Cannon when he tried to listen to their problems and guide them to answers? Because if it was, Cannon needed a new hobby.

  Either way, Sutton was telling him to be a man. But how did that help him know how to proceed with Daisy when the manly thing to do was to have his brother’s backs and worry about other people’s security before he worried about what he wanted, like spending time with Daisy?

  Oh, this was such a tough principle to crack. Cannon asked, “Why would God make it so hard to chose between making myself and Daisy happy, and doing my duty as a loyal friend and brother?”

  “Why would he make it easy?” exclaimed Sutton. “Who was the bloke in the Bible who had to work a dozen years to get his wife.”

  “Jacob,” said Cannon. “Fourteen years.” Cannon would rather go through Hell Week again rather than wait fourteen years for Daisy.

  “What about when Eve bit the apple? Did Adam have an easy decision? Blimey, he had to choose between his wife and God.”

  “So that’s all you have for me? It won’t be easy?”

  Sutton went on to say, “I’m no pastor, but I’ve had my wrestles with God over the years, and not once has it been easy.” He glanced down to where that photo was hidden and muttered, “And not once have I won when it really mattered.”

  Was that a gleam of tears in Sutton’s eyes? Impossible. The man didn’t know the meaning of the word cry. As far as Cannon knew, he didn’t have tear glands.

  “But do I give up?” Sutton’s question was low and a little bitter.

  Of course he didn’t give up, he was Sutton Smith. Quit was another word that wasn’t in his vocabulary.

  With a clenched jaw, Sutton’s face rose toward Cannon. An answer was coming. Wisdom was about to be dispensed.

  “Are you going to give up, Cannon?”

  “Never. I’ve never given up on anything worthy.”

  “I believe that,” said Sutton. “None of you men would give up. So my question is, does Miss Close know that?”

  “That I’ll never give up? Of course she does. She knows I’m a SEAL, she knows …” What did she know? Why did Cannon think he had any idea what she knew?

  “Cannon.” Sutton was staring intensely at Cannon, his blue eyes like icicles. “If you offered to trade me another chance with the woman I loved, I would sign over every one of my possessions before you even finished speaking. Now, how much would you sacrifice for Miss Close?”

  “Everything.”

  “Everything?” asked Sutton. “So easy for a young man to say that. Not so easy to live it.”

  “I would give anything,” objected Cannon. “Everything. I feel like I can’t live without her. I … she …” He didn’t want to go into the darkness of his past and how she helped him focus on the light.

  They looked at each other for a minute. What else could Cannon say? What else could he accomplish here?

  “Thanks, Sutton.” They hadn’t really decided or discovered anything. Cannon already knew he was crazy about Daisy. Now he needed to go figure out what to do about it.

  “I hope the Good Lord gives you more success than he’s given me when it comes to women.”

  “Me too,” said Cannon.

  “I’ll be in touch,” said Sutton. “Preliminary schedul
e for River’s mission is next Thursday through Saturday. I will make the arrangements with Mr. Gold if there is a timeline conflict, because we need you on this one.”

  Wow, the mission was that important? That reminded Cannon that he had some work to do if he wanted to be ordained in the U.K. by then.

  “Cheers,” said Cannon, standing.

  “Cheers,” said Sutton. “Heart of a warrior.” He went back to work.

  “Heart of a warrior,” muttered Cannon as he walked away. Even that made Cannon remember Daisy’s reaction to his book blurb comment.

  So what now? Maybe something would come to mind if he let it incubate.

  The house was huge but right in the center of everything was an eight-flavor ice cream counter. Even if Cannon didn’t have great situational awareness of the premises, he’d know the ice cream bar was central because it never took him long to get there. Some of the SEALs loved the indoor lap pool or bowling alley, some of the guys liked the huge grounds where you could run a marathon in about three laps, and they all loved to grab some ropes and climb on the cliff face over the ocean. But of all the amenities of this unreal mansion, Cannon’s favorite was the ice cream counter.

  He took a waffle cone from the huge glass jar and started scooping double chocolate malted crunch.

  Agatha approached on the far side of the counter and bent her head to look into his eyes. He knew that somehow Agatha would know this hadn’t been a professional visit.

  “Did you get the answers you came for, love?”

  Cannon stopped scooping and his eyes unfocused for a bit. “I got more questions.”

  “Maybe that’s for the best,” she told him. “Maybe you weren’t asking the right questions t’ begin with.”

  Cannon finished filling the cone.

  What would I give up for Daisy? Does she know I won’t give up on her? Cannon knew he was as ignorant about women as, well, a broken telephone box, but one thing he did know, he would never give up on Daisy.

  How do I make her know that?

  He wasn’t a quitter. Never had been, never would be. Even during BUD/S, even during Hell Week—

  “Agather, yer a genius, ya are!” He hustled from the room, before she could reach out and swat him.

  He had an idea and wanted to give it a try ASAP.

  -------------------------------------------------------------------

  Daisy stared at the words on the computer screen, only seeing lines of gibberish against a white background. The manuscript wasn’t working, but Daisy couldn’t put her finger on the reason why. It wasn’t her job to fix the problem, but she had to be able to point to what wasn’t working. And though she wrangled this one up and down, she couldn’t get to the heart of it.

  It was the motivations of the protagonist that just—

  A knock came at the door, hard and demanding. Why not ring the doorbell? A delivery? Sometimes UPS and FEDex guys would pound like that then jog back to their truck.

  It had only been half a day since the conversation with Cannon. Maybe he was here to make up in person. Hopefully not, because she was in her editor’s clothes—pajama shorts and a tank top—and the only attention her hair had received all day was the scrunchie holding it out of her face.

  She peeked through the side light and realized it was nighttime. Flipping on the light, she didn’t see anyone standing there.

  Could it be doorbell ditchers? There were kids in her neighborhood but she hadn’t been a target of them before.

  Keeping the door chain attached, she cracked the door. Sitting on the center of her welcome mat was a pretty brass bell, but there was no person in sight. The handle was ornate, almost crown-like and the bowl was plain and polished. A rolled up piece of paper was tied to the base of the handle.

  Daisy closed the door, undid the chain, then opened it and picked up the bell. The street in front of her house was still quiet.

  Inside, she looked at the bell more closely but nothing else stood out to her. She gave a little twist of her wrist, and was disappointed when the bell remained silent. Turning the bell upside down, she saw that it had no clapper. What good was a bell that you couldn’t ring?

  Hoping the note would elaborate, she opened it, and saw her name followed by a couple of block-style paragraphs.

  Daisy,

  A bell hangs on the wall at BUD/S training. When a SEAL candidate decides to quit, he rings the bell and that’s it. He gets a hot cup of coffee, a warm meal, and a long nap, but he’s out. During Hell Week, they bring the bell right down to the beach so you don’t even have to run back to camp. I saw that bell every day of training. So many times I thought about how easy it would be to ring it. But then I thought about what I would lose if I rang it.

  In my relationship with you, there is no bell. I may struggle, I may fall and do a face plant in the mud, and I may make a fool of myself sitting in the metaphorical surf, shivering in my metaphorical underwear … but I will never ring the bell. I will never give up. I’ll go without food, sleep, and the comforts of life if I have to for you, but I will never give up. You are my new Team. I could never live with knowing what I would lose.

  Daisy turned the bell upside down and stared into the empty bowl. No, it wasn’t a bell, not as far as she was concerned. You could ring a bell, but this was unringable. This was a symbol.

  Her nearly boyfriend had been so reticent about the details of his SEAL days, but she’d known that it was a tumultuous layer under his happy exterior. And he’d chosen today, when she had pushed him up against the ropes, to open up to her to compare their relationship with the greatest accomplishment of his life. She was his Team. Did that mean she was his priority? If it didn’t mean that now, she had faith that he’d figure it out.

  He flat out said he’d never give up.

  At this point in their relationship, she couldn’t ask for much more. It was a huge step and she had to blink happy tears away.

  She texted, Thanks. I think you’re figuring it out. She sent the text, knowing that he couldn’t be more than a few blocks away, if that far.

  A response arrived. Give me a chance tomorrow night?

  Tomorrow would be Thursday. If she didn’t see him then, she’d have to wait three more days.

  Sounds fun! What do you have in mind?

  A minute later he replied, Karaoke? It would be worth letting you hear me sing to be able to hear your voice. Again.

  Yes!

  Pick you up at 6. Dinner and singing.

  Daisy started waltzing through her house, singing “Unchained Melody.” She was going to hear him sing.

  Daisy pushed her plate with the pizza crusts away and leaned forward on the table, watching Cannon walk up to the short stage at the back of the restaurant. She’d dared to him go first and he hadn’t hesitated. He wasn’t moving with his normal confidence, but there he was picking up the mic.

  The familiar piano music that instantly reminded her of Toy Story started up, and Cannon gave her a wink.

  “You got a friend in me,” he sang, smiling like always. His voice wasn’t going to get him to Broadway, but it was so charming and homey. Daisy felt a little stab of jealousy for Pasha, who got to hear him sing every week. There was no goofiness to Cannon’s singing, like the original version of this song, just her singing boyfriend, up on stage in front of the whole world just because she had dared him to go.

  It made her feel all warm inside.

  When he finished, Daisy whooped and clapped so energetically the rest of the place joined in. He came back and practically collapsed into the chair next to her.

  “Not bad for your first time ever singing in public,” she told him, giving him a high five.

  “Oh no,” he told her, and she noticed his special amused smile. “I deserve more than a hand slap for going up there.”

  Daisy loved that idea, and leaned in so he could kiss her. It was just a peck, but once again, she felt like the only thing in the world as far as he was concerned. This night had started out good
and gotten even better.

  “I still don’t know how you got me to go up there,” he said, picking up his water and chugging some.

  “Look at you all flustered and nervous.” She actually loved seeing him like this. Any time she chose she could think back to how he’d been the manliest man ever in that fight on the beach, so it was kind of fun to see him vulnerable.

  Up until the time to sing he’d been so relaxed and yet focused on her and everything had been perfect all evening. Of course, no one could call him because he’d left his phone in the car so he wouldn’t be distracted. As long as that metal band he wore on his wrist didn’t light up, she was pretty sure she’d have him for the rest of the night.

  “You want any more food or dessert?” he asked.

  “Nah.” The wood-fired pizza was delicious, but she’d had plenty. “I’m good just enjoying the ambiance.” With him being her focused boyfriend, she could just chill almost anywhere and be happy.

  “You have to get up there and sing,” he told her. “Come on, that lady’s almost done.”

  “Go with me,” she said, expecting him to flat out refuse.

  “Duet?”

  “Yes!” Was he really going to do it? For her? “Please!”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “All right.”

  They went up to the DJ as “Don’t Stop Believing” wrapped up and Daisy picked “I Got You, Babe.”

  The song started with Daisy singing, and went back and forth. During the chorus they harmonized automatically and somehow his slightly gritty voice blended nicely with her more cultured voice.

  Being on stage with him, singing this love song in front of a couple dozen people was a new and exciting experience for her, and she wanted it to last forever. When Cannon sang the line, “I got you to wear my ring,” he gave her a wink that knocked her off balance and made her miss the first few words of her line.

  The song ended and they went back to their booth. “Not too bad,” she told him, with a smile.