Lizzie felt his eyes follow her all through the line, knew that he watched for some sign she’d change her mind—if she turned, he’d be encouraged by something she did. Or maybe he was already gone and it was just her imagination. Either way, she wasn’t going to check. Her heart had been excised with a dull spoon.
“Bye-bye,” Charlotte said, as she waved behind her to someone. The tears started to come. Charlotte giggled and continued to wave, because that’s what someone else was doing on the other side of the security checkpoint line.
She handed Charlotte to the agent at the x-ray machine. “I don’t want her going through this, but I will.”
“Yes, ma’am. We have to do a wand check. We can do it on you both. You can hold her hand.”
They barely made the plane before the doors were locked behind them. She’d had to check the stroller and one of her carry-on bags since Charlotte was a lap child on a full flight and space was limited.
She leaned back into the middle seat between two heavyset ladies who grumbled at their placement. Charlotte gave them both a stern frown when neither smiled at her. “It’s okay, baby. We’ll be home soon. Just try to rest, and a little later, we’ll get something to eat and take a little walk down the aisle to the back. Would you like that?”
Charlotte nodded her head, and with her small forefinger, traced a tear Lizzie didn’t know was showing, from just under her eye, down to the top of her lip. Lizzie gazed into eyes that sparkled like aquamarine crystals and wondered if Charlotte understood more than she was able to communicate.
“It’s going to be okay, baby. Mama’s okay. You take a nap.”
Charlotte tucked her little face under Lizzie’s chin, sighed, and—in a matter of minutes—was fast asleep.
Chapter 13
‡
Jameson waited until the plane took off before he left the San Diego airport. He wanted to punch something, he was so upset with himself for not running past the gate and all the guards, grabbing Lizzie, and kidnapping her back to the safety of his arms. But no, he’d been a dickwad and just watched as she made her way out of his life forever, his daughter waving good-bye like a fuckin’ sad movie scene.
He climbed into his SUV and squealed the tires as he turned the corner of the parking garage. The last thing he wanted to do was show up alone and have to explain to any of his new SEAL friends what had happened. It was too early to tie one on, or maybe it wasn’t. He wished Thomas was there. He’d say something either so obnoxious he could push him over or scream at him, or he’d say something that would take his breath away. Regardless, he would react. It would release some of the tension, and he’d be fixed for now.
He checked his cell phone. Thomas wouldn’t be at the club yet in Seattle. He gave him a call.
“Hey, asshole.”
“How’s it going, Thomas?”
“What the fuck’s wrong with you? This a social call, Jameson?”
“I just put Lizzie on a plane for Nashville.”
“So what the fuck are you doing there in San Diego?”
“Looking for someone to get drunk with.”
“This is bad. This is very bad, Jameson. I’m stuck here another three weeks, unless we get held over, and right now, it looks like that will happen. You could come up here, hang out with the band. Not like performing, but still, it would be something to do.”
“Not happening. I’ve got some sorting out to do.”
“Your funeral. You seriously considering becoming a sailor?”
“Not a sailor, a SEAL. Big difference.”
“In a manner of speaking, but if you don’t make it, you go out to the fleet. You’re not Elvis singing to the troops and all. You’d be swabbing decks and cleaning toilets, or peeling potatoes and shit.”
“Nah. I’m gonna see what it takes. I’ll call back and let you know.”
Jameson, Kyle, and Coop sat down with the Navy recruiter. Kyle told him not to trust a single hair plug on the guy’s forehead and that they all lied through their teeth. Kyle helped secure an order signed by the senior staff that said he was allowed to try out for the next BUD/S class in just over a month.
It felt funny raising his right hand, taking the oath of allegiance, and receiving the sporadic clapping his three SEAL friends gave him that Thursday afternoon. Before the ink was dry, he got orders to ship off to Great Lakes, where he tested so highly they pulled him out of basic training and told him he was going to be a dentist.
“Nah, man, I’m going to try out for the Teams.”
“No one makes it. I don’t think they’ve graduated anyone in six months, son,” the hardened Chief barked at him. “They don’t tell the public this, but they’re not adding any new SEALs. In fact, they’re downsizing. Just don’t want the enemy to know. I’d say dental school is much smarter, son.” The Chief pressed it to Jameson’s chest. “Take it, goddamn you. I’m doin’ you a fuckin’ favor.”
Jameson called Kyle that evening and was told that was horseshit. He tore up the orders to report to dental school. The next morning he reported back to the Chief. “You guaranteed my shot, and I’m gonna take it.”
The team had only been able to prepare him for a month before Indoc, so he was looking forward to testing all the training they’d shoved down his throat. Kyle and the men kicked his butt. He learned to work out with little sleep. The SEALs made him run on the beach with seventy pounds of sand in his backpack in full combat gear. They hosed him down on the beach outside the Babemobile and made him recite the Lord’s Prayer so many times Jameson knew he’d be saying it in his sleep. His new friends made him carry sawed-off telephone poles by himself.
He’d pulled a groin muscle during basic, but didn’t want to tell anyone when he reported for his first day of BUD/S. Sure as shit, they started doing timed runs, and his groin began to swell. When he stood up and began limping, one of the instructors pulled him out of the lineup and said, “You gonna go all medical on me or are you pregnant, because you walk like a lady who’s gonna deliver triplets. I’ve been watching you.”
“I pulled a groin muscle in basic.”
“Sure you did. How many times did you get laid this week?”
“Not one, sir.”
“Oh, I get it. Playing grab ass with the recruits. So you’re into boys, that how it goes, sailor?”
“Nosir. Nothing wrong with me in that department.”
“Did I say there was anything wrong with being gay? I’m fuckin’ gay. You wanna see if I can whip your ass, sailor?”
“Nosir. I meant no disrespect.”
The trainer looked him over. He picked his hands up and saw the calluses on his fingertips. “You a guitar player?”
“Yessir, I am.”
“No, you’re not. Your ass is mine. You might never get to play a guitar again, son. Is that gonna be okay with you?”
Jameson sighed, wondering how long the smack talk was going to hold up. “I brought my guitar, but like you said, sir, I’ve not had the energy to play it. But writing music helps me to relax.”
“What the fuck is that? We don’t write songs in the Navy. You like Frances Scott Key or something? Gonna write a new Navy SEAL song?”
“Nosir, that would be a very bad idea.”
“You’re damned straight.” He walked around him a couple of times. “Who got you trained for this gig? You fill out well. You a swimmer?”
Jameson sighed again and examined his boots. “Nosir.”
“This getting all hard on you, son? You don’t like someone talking to you this way?”
“I had a soccer coach who used to talk to me like this all the time.”
“That a fact? And how did you guys get along?”
“I quit the team. And I slashed all his tires.”
“What the hell for?”
“He wanted me to give up the lead in the high school musical. So I quit the soccer team.”
“So you’re a Romeo boy. A crooner, that what you’re sayin?”
“I sing and write country music
, yes sir. If that’s what that means.”
“You get the ladies all hot and bothered is my guess. You’re kinda good-looking, kid. Too good lookin’ for a SEAL. We only let ugly ones pass. That’s a little known fact.”
“Horseshit.”
“Excuse me?” The instructor leaned his concrete chest against Jameson’s. “You want to tell me that again?”
“Horseshit, sir. I got friends who are SEALs, and they’re damned good-looking.”
“Really, and who would those friends be, or are they posers?”
“Chief Petty Officer Kyle Lansdowne, Special Operator Calvin Cooper, and a couple of others.”
The instructor tried not to show it, but Jameson could tell it had left an impression on him. “So, you’re hoping to be one of Kyle’s boys, that right?”
“I understand it doesn’t exactly work that way, but if it’s possible, yes.”
That day turned the corner for Jameson. He was given a lighter duty than the rest of them and allowed to get a little more sleep. One by one, they learned to swim in the dirty inlet, increasing their swim and run times until most of them could nearly break records on the college level. Jameson ignored the repeated calls from Thomas and never got one from Lizzie. He focused on only one thing: not giving up.
In the end, he was one of twenty-two out of two hundred who graduated with his original class.
Kyle, Cooper, and several of the other men showed up at his Trident ceremony. He was unprepared for the fact that they’d asked Kyle Lansdowne to deliver the speech to the new graduates.
“The world’s changing, gents. We’ll probably have a woman graduate within these next few years. I’m not at liberty to comment about that, but the nature of warfare and the rules of engagement are changing as we sit here on this beautiful and sunny San Diego day. There are people out there,” he pointed off in the distance, “who are planning right now to do us harm. Right here on American soil. That’s not official Navy issue, but it’s a fact. By becoming a SEAL, wearing the Trident—which I don’t recommend doing, by the way, in public anymore—you are not only endangering your own life, but the lives of your wives, girlfriends, parents, brothers, and sisters.
“You don’t walk in these shoes lightly. As SEALs, we carefully train for every eventuality. And your families need to agree to be a part of this. We are all one unit. No one else understands what we do or why. We never know who ordered it or why some guy at the Head Shed decided it was a good idea to do X, Y, and Z. We don’t know what political party he’s a part of, because the war doesn’t discriminate by political party, race, religion, or sex. Dr. Death is an equal opportunity employer. And he’ll claim as many as he can get away with.
“The difference is, our families are more at risk than they ever have been. Make no mistake. You won’t get out of this life before you know someone personally who has given his or her life to save our great country from its enemies.”
Jameson was left in awe of the man he hoped to serve under.
Chapter 14
‡
Lizzie settled into a routine over the next few months that kept her busy. Since she held a teaching credential, she was hired part-time working in the elementary school Charlotte would more than likely attend. She was hoping that by the time Charlotte was ready for kindergarten or first grade, her job would become full-time and permanent.
The time went by fast. Charlotte was very social, and at times, Lizzie had trouble keeping up with her activities and play dates. She enrolled her in gymnastics and dance classes. But there wasn’t a day that went by where she didn’t think of Jameson. When she didn’t hear from him, she decided it was best to leave things the way they were. In time, she knew he’d come walking into Charlotte’s life, probably with a wife and child of his own. She worked to make sure she was prepared for that day, when it would no doubt come.
A couple of times during the holidays and into the spring, she traveled to Nashville and stayed with Kendra, so the girls could play and the two of them could catch up. Her Nashville friend had met an executive with one of the large hotel chains and had been able to do some traveling for minimal cost.
Kendra had received a promotion, so they decided to go out on the town, so she got a sitter from the local high school she’d used on several occasions when the two of them went out to dinner or to catch a movie. Tonight, they were going to hit the Halfway to Heaven, since neither of them had been there in over six months.
When the sitter arrived, Kendra waved good-bye to the girl’s mother, who had dropped her off. “Thanks for coming on such short notice, Maureen.”
“No problem. I have a ton of reading to get caught up on.”
Lizzie and Kendra were silent all the way over to The Halfway. Lizzie thought the crowd was larger than she remembered, and it also had a younger vibe. She found Thomas at his usual perch on one of the stools at the bar in the shadows. His guitar case was down by his boots.
“I come back here after all this time, and who do I find?” She watched him struggle to lean over and take her hand.
“I been waiting for you, darlin’.”
Lizzie thought he appeared even scruffier than before. His jacket had a coffee stain on the breast pocket, which was slightly ripped, like it had been caught on something. His hair wasn’t clean, and his face was a little sallow. She immediately picked up that Thomas wasn’t his usual healthy self.
“Thomas, I want you to meet my girlfriend, Kendra.”
“Nice to meet you, Thomas, is it?” Kendra was polite, but declined to shake his hand.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, as he tipped his hat to her, then removed it, and placed it on the counter. Lizzie saw the red spider veins in his cheeks and on one side of his nose.
“You playing tonight, Thomas?”
“No, ma’am. But I come prepared anyway, just in case they need the backup quarterback. I actually have a better chance to get on stage now that Jameson is gone.”
Lizzy’s heart raced. “Gone?”
“Oh, not dead, sweetheart.” He winked at her, indicating he might be a bit drunk but his observation skills were still sharp. “Gone as in he’s off to San Diego. Finishing up his qualifying. The guy actually made it through the SEAL training.”
“That’s awesome,” said Kendra.
Lizzie wanted to learn more, but didn’t want Thomas or anyone else to know that she still hadn’t stopped thinking and dreaming about him. She thought she’d tucked the pain in fireproof containers in her chest, but she felt the sharp sting of unfinished business and a world of regrets.
She didn’t care for being held hostage to the mystery between them, didn’t want to get hit with it some day when he might just stop by and she’d have to deal with the reality that he’d moved on. “So I suppose by now he’s found a nice young lady and settled down.”
Thomas smirked and took a long drink of whatever was in his glass, coughing afterwards. “That’s funny, missy. I guess you don’t know very much about those guys. They train all the time. I mean, he was awarded his Trident, but he still has to learn how to do all this shit. They go up to Alaska, to the desert, even go to Mexico, North Africa—all over to train. I don’t know how he’d have the time. But,” he eyed Lizzie carefully, giving her a lopsided wolfish grin, “he’s supposed to be done now.”
Lizzie wasn’t sure why that made her feel better, but it did.
“You know, darlin’, if it’s someone you want who can keep you warm at night, I’d like to apply for the job.”
Lizzie wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. If it had been anyone else, she would have let him down with a harsh reprimand involving something about him not being in her league, but because he was Thomas, dear sweet Thomas, and Jameson’s old friend, she couldn’t do that.
She was going to say something, when he blurted out, “Oh, hell, might as well tell you. He’s coming back to Nashville. You’re gonna see the posters everywhere. Old Reed has him doing a farewell tour. Seems he has all kinds of n
ew material and might have a song or two that will be picked up.”
“Really?” Lizzie asked.
“When’s this happening?” asked Kendra.
“Next week. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, right here.”
“You gonna come back and see him, Lizzie?” asked Kendra, as they drove back to her house.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Jameson still had her phone number, and a call might have been nice if he wanted her there. In the absence of that, she wasn’t convinced it would be a good idea. “I’ll think about it.”
They arrived at Kendra’s house and woke up the babysitter. As Kendra left to drive her home, Lizzie walked inside the bedroom and found Charlotte asleep, wearing her pink sparkly cape and crown. She remembered the day she’d come running out into the living room and nearly high-jumped into Jameson’s lap. She remembered other things, too: how he bent down and helped her eat her ice cream, how he walked around the house with Charlotte on his shoulders and forgot about the door jamb, catching her forehead on it and giving poor wailing Charlotte a goose egg that took nearly a week to heal.
She’d told him to find himself. Did he? She wondered.
Lizzie closed the bedroom door, took a shower, put on her nightgown, propped her feet up, and turned on the television. On the coffee table, a small book was open, so she leaned over and began to read some very erotic poems Maureen had left behind.
Kendra arrived back home.
“Take a look at what your sitter was reading. Honestly, these are very adult. Kind of surprising.”
Kendra grabbed the book and read the title. “Ecstasy and Love by Rumi? Who the hell is Rumi?”
“I’ve never heard of him. The kids these days read all sorts of stuff. One of our teachers said her eighth grader was reading that Fifty Shades book. I couldn’t believe it.”
“But this Rumi guy was a mystic, a thirteenth-century poet from Afghanistan.” Kendra wrinkled up her nose. “How the hell did she get this? I’m sure they don’t teach this in the high school. This is way too adult. These pages have erotic drawings and pictures of stone carvings. Look at this!”
Nashville SEAL: Jameson: Nashville SEALs Page 26