The SEAL's Special Mission

by Rogenna Brewer

  Ben picked up his bowl and walked it over to the sink. He even rinsed it off and put it in the dish drainer. Then he walked back to Nash. “You can play my Nintendo DS if you want.”

  “No, thanks.” Nash barely glanced up from his paper.

  “Do you want to play a game of Sorry with me?”

  Nash folded his newspaper. “Maybe later.”

  “Do you, Mom?”

  Nash got up from the table.

  “Of course.” Mal picked up her bowl and walked to the sink. “After we do some schoolwork. Why don’t you run upstairs and get your backpack?”

  Ben raced upstairs. He was bored and she couldn’t blame him.

  She noticed Nash putting on one of the heavier coats from the rack. Apparently it was time for another perimeter check.

  While Nash was outside, she and Ben spent half an hour together on math and then she put him to work making flash cards with some old index cards she’d found in a junk drawer. He was smart, but she was worried about him falling behind on his lessons.

  “I don’t think he likes it when I call you Mom,” Ben said later as they were setting up in front of the fireplace for a game of Sorry.

  “Too bad,” Mal said, though she should have been more diplomatic.

  “Would it be okay if I called you Aunt Mal?”

  Mal opened her mouth. But nothing came out.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  MALLORY WENT OUT onto the snow-covered back deck having noticed that Nash had returned. “You’re unbelievable.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at her.

  “You kidnap us at gunpoint.”

  “I’ve never pointed a gun at you or the boy, Mal.”

  “You didn’t give a damn whether or not we wanted to go with you or not. So here we are for who knows how long. The least you can do is listen to your son when he’s talking to you.”

  “I hear more than you give me credit for.”

  “You walk away every time Ben opens his mouth. After your missing the first seven, almost eight, years of his life, this is your chance to get to know him and for him to get to know you.”

  “It’s best if the boy doesn’t get too attached.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “You know where this is going, Mal. We go our separate ways after the trial. I wasn’t part of the boy’s past and I won’t be a part of his future. All I care about is that he has a future.”

  “Yeah, well, as you’re walking away, Nash, you might want to think about what kind of memories you’re leaving behind. Because he’s going to remember you—remember this.” She spread her arms to encompass both space and time. “And you can bet that if I knew I only had two weeks to spend with Ben, or my sister, or my mother or my father, I wouldn’t spend it putting distance between us. He’s already attached, Nash. He’s already missing you. The person you’re trying to protect is yourself.”

  She stormed off and left him standing on the deck.

  Nash caught a glimpse of Ben in the back bedroom window. The boy ducked out of sight. Mal was right. The only heart he was trying to protect here was his own. He kept his distance from the boy because that was the only way he was going to be able to survive leaving him again. And make no mistake, he’d have to leave his son. For years he’d survived with the single-minded focus of catching Cara’s killer.

  And Ben was the price he’d paid for these past seven years. Was it worth it? Was it what Cara would have wanted for their son?

  He’d wanted justice for Cara, for Ben. For himself. But no maybe about it, he’d let finding her killer and clearing his name take over his life.

  Ben and Mal did not need him in their lives. He could have told her the truth. But maybe it was easier this way. Easier to let them go if they weren’t holding on.

  * * *

  THE DAYS WERE growing shorter and the nights longer. And Mal was growing restless. Had they only been here a week? Nash put his arm through the winter coat. “Would you like to come with me today, Ben?”

  Ben looked up from the breakfast table and then at Mal.

  “Where exactly?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Check some things out.”

  “Do you think that’s such a good idea, Nash?”

  “It was your idea, Mal.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s cold. He’s not going to be able to keep up with you.”

  “I’m sure we can find something here that fits. And we’ll take one of the snowmobiles.” He grabbed the keys from the rack. “What do you say, Ben?”

  “Please, can I?” He hurried to set his bowl in the sink.

  Mal didn’t think it was the smartest idea. When Nash headed out, he went armed. He was keeping an eye on the perimeter and looking for disturbances. All because of the very real danger of being discovered—either accidentally by someone who knew they shouldn’t be there or intentionally by someone—the bad guys—looking for them.

  So far they’d been lucky. But what if today was the day their luck ran out?

  Except was Ben really any safer indoors with her than outdoors with his father? And she was the one who’d insisted Nash spend time with Ben. “I guess it would be okay.”

  Nash helped Ben find a heavy down vest and gloves that fit. Mal insisted he put another jacket on over it and found him a knit beanie to wear.

  * * *

  MAL ANXIOUSLY WAITED for Nash and Ben to return. She kept herself busy tidying up the cabin. And then herself. It was almost dinnertime, so she decided to experiment with something other than just opening a can of soup tonight.

  By the time she was done making dinner, they’d be home. Sure enough, just as she was putting the finishing touches on the meal, she heard the sound of a snowmobile headed toward the shed. She checked outside just to make sure it was Nash and Ben and then ducked back into the kitchen so they wouldn’t think she’d spent this whole time worrying about them. Nash and Ben came through the front door stomping snow from their boots and laughing.

  “Something smells good,” Nash commented as he hung up his coat.

  “I’ve been experimenting.”

  Ben peeled off his coat and boots and then ran up to her excitedly.

  “We saw a couple of deer. And a real mountain lion and everything.”

  “Mountain lion?”

  “He wasn’t very big, though,” Ben said thoughtfully. “They don’t like to eat people. But maybe sometimes if they’re really hungry they might try to eat people. Right?” Ben turned to look over his shoulder at his father.

  Mal looked over Ben’s head to Nash. He looked at her sheepishly and shrugged.

  “Sounds exciting,” she said.

  “I learned how to track a deer and tell if it’s running or walking. Oh, and do you know how to cover your tracks?” He kept going before she could even shake her head no. “You walk backward and then you brush a branch over the snow.” He demonstrated by waving his hand back and forth. “And then we trapped a bunny. But I did not want to eat him, so we couldn’t bring him home. ’Cause bunnies don’t like to live in cages. But maybe if I was really hungry I would eat him. Maybe, I don’t know. Mountain lions eat bunnies because they do not think they’re cute. They think they’re dinner. And coyotes and foxes eat bunnies, too.”

  “How about canned pork burritos? Do little boys eat those?”

  Ben nodded enthusiastically. “I’m starved. Just not enough to eat a bunny,” he added.

  “How about grown men?” she asked Nash as he stepped into the small kitchen.

  “Sounds like a lot less work than skinning a rabbit. On my part, at least.”

  Still glowing from the acknowledgment, Mal let the men wait on her as they set up the intimate dinner for three and then ate at the coffee table in front of the fir
e. When they were almost done, Ben grabbed a board game, which she helped him set up while Nash read the instructions out loud.

  Funny how he didn’t miss his video games at all.

  “I don’t like this game,” Ben said after being awarded triplets in the game of Life.

  Nash reached over and scuffed his head. “But maybe you’ll play it as you get older. Everyone does.”

  “It’s your bedtime anyway.” Mal pushed up from the floor and grabbed the bowl of popcorn from the square coffee table. A fire crackled in the fireplace.

  “I don’t see why I have to have a bedtime.”

  “It’s ten o’clock. Well past your normal bedtime. Which is when...?” she prompted.

  “Eight on school nights, nine on Friday and Saturday.”

  “So what are you complaining about?” Nash asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Then help me put away this game,” Nash said to his son.

  “Ben, after you’re done helping, go on upstairs and get ready for bed. I’ll be up to tuck you in later.”

  “Can my dad tuck me in?”

  Mal glanced at Nash. Her throat tightened around her response. “Sure.”

  Nash nodded and Ben rushed upstairs. Mal made her way to the kitchen. It was nothing to get upset about. She’d wanted them to bond. Just not at the expense of her bond with Ben. He’d started calling her Aunt Mal and now Nash was no longer “him” or “he,” but “Dad.”

  Nash put the game box back where it belonged and then added another log to the fire. The house got pretty cold at night, and they only ran the generator for a few hours every day. And now that he was feeling better, he was usually up to keep both going.

  “By tucking in, he means reading him a story.” She wrapped her arms around herself.

  “I got it,” he said. “I’m just going to take a look around outside and then I’ll see to it that he gets tucked in. That is, if you don’t mind.”

  “Why would I mind?” She did not mean to snap.

  “You sound like you mind.”

  She tilted her chin. Honestly, she didn’t mind. She reminded herself again that it had been her idea for Nash and Ben to spend time together in the first place. But maybe since they’d spent the day having fun together, she’d found herself looking forward to a little of that fun spilling over into the evening.

  She tried not to feel hurt or threatened by the fact that Ben preferred his father’s company to hers. Nash was a shiny new toy. And long after he was gone, Ben would still have her. His Aunt Mal.

  He had simply been too exhausted by the day’s excursion to have the patience for a board game. And now he wanted his father to read him a bedtime story. No big deal. It was a good thing.

  “You know he talked about you nonstop today. You got to hear stories of mountain lions, but I got to hear stories of Aunt Mal. We’re all struggling with new dynamics here. Ben most of all.”

  “Thank you, Nash.” Her voice sounded rough and she had to concentrate to clear it.

  He nodded. She didn’t know which one of them her sincerity surprised the most.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  NASH MADE A wide circle around the house and garage. Checked the generator and locked up the shed for the night. And then walked as far as the main dirt road. No fresh tracks in the snow other than his own.

  He turned back to the house and after hanging up his coat and putting away the rifle, he made his way up the stairs to tuck in Ben.

  He still had his handgun, but then he always carried it—that was just a fact of life.

  Ben was sitting up in bed with a book in his lap. “Aunt Mal started this one.”

  Nash took the copy of The Swiss Family Robinson and Ben scooted over to make some room for him to sit. “Where’d you leave off?”

  “Chapter six. Aunt Mal read chapter five last. We’re reading one chapter a night.”

  “Okay.” Nash opened the book to chapter six.

  “Can you do voices? Aunt Mal does voices sometimes.”

  “Your aunt Mal does, huh?” Nash cleared his throat and held his place in the book. “You know, Ben, it’s okay with me if you go back to calling your aunt Mal Mom. You know what adoption is, right?”

  He looked down and plucked imaginary fuzz from the blanket. “It’s when your mom goes to heaven, and your dad goes to war, and then your aunt Mal takes care of you.”

  Close enough. “She takes really good care of you, doesn’t she?”

  “I guess. Yes,” he amended when Nash held his gaze until Ben looked him in the eye. “I just don’t want to call her my mom anymore.”

  “The thing is, I think she wants you to...and I want you to. She’s taken very good care of you and she’s going to continue to take very good care of you. That sounds like a mother to me.”

  “I wish I had my real mom.”

  “That’s something we all wish, Ben.”

  “Maybe my real mom will come back.”

  “No.” Nash shook his head. “That’s not going to happen.”

  “But maybe. Aunt Mal said you were dead and then you came back.”

  “I did not come back from the dead, though.”

  “’Cause Aunt Mal lied. That’s why I don’t like her to be my mom anymore.”

  “So you’re mad at her?”

  Ben’s lower lip quivered as he sniffed back tears. Nash scooted Ben over on the twin mattress to make room for himself. He sat back against the headboard with his long legs stretched out in front of him. “Come here.” He pulled his son to his side. “It’s wrong to punish someone you love just because you’re mad at them. Your aunt Mal is not the reason your mom is gone. She didn’t really lie to you—she was just trying to protect you from the truth.”

  Ben looked up at him with so much trust behind the tears welling in his eyes.

  Nash knew he had to get this right. “How old are you now, seven, almost eight? Seven is not a baby, right?”

  A smile broke through the tears. “No, I’m not a baby.”

  Still too young to hear the whole truth, but this was probably Nash’s only chance to have a heart-to-heart with his son. Mal was right about the lasting impressions. How to make him understand? He took a deep breath. “There are people who think I’m a bad man who hurt your mom—”

  “But maybe you didn’t.”

  “No, you’re right, I did not. But I had to go away for a while and I wasn’t supposed to come back, ever—that was part of the deal.” He lifted Ben’s chin. “I went away mad. I wanted to hurt the people who’d hurt your mom. Except not only did that take me away from you, but I realize now that it also meant you’d never know the truth. That when you got older you might even believe what you heard or read about me. And I didn’t want that for you. For either of us.”

  Ben was looking a little confused.

  “I changed my mission from hurting people to clearing my name. Because that’s what your mom would have wanted. Always remember you were born Benjamin Nash. And that’s something to be proud of. So, do you think you could change your mission from hurting your aunt to making me proud? I chose her especially for you. I think it would make your real mom really happy to know the two of you had each other. It’s not an either/or, Ben. We have room in our hearts to love as many people as we want.”

  He could see the cogs turning in Ben’s brain. “You’d still be my dad?”

  “I will still be your father no matter what.”

  “Is this going to be our house?”

  “No, we’re only here for a short time.”

  “I like it here,” Ben said.

  “I like it here, too.”

  “I wish this could be our house.”

  * * *

  “THIS IS STUPID.” Ben crawled down from the chair
he’d been kneeling on in the kitchen. “I don’t want to make any more of this stuff.”

  Mal had found a big bottle of white school glue and had been trying to distract him with an old Silly Putty recipe she’d found in the junk drawer. The recipe was simple: two parts glue to one part laundry detergent. Liquid or powder. It didn’t matter.

  They’d made several batches of both.

  Unfortunately they didn’t have any food coloring, so they were left with unappealing white blobs. And Ben wasn’t all that interested in playing with those big white blobs. He kept looking out the front window waiting for Nash to return. Finally he settled on the couch with his Nintendo DS and his current favorite video game.

  She noticed that he hadn’t put his ninja mask on even though today was Halloween. He’d been in a bad mood all morning despite the fact that she’d let him off the hook for schoolwork.

  He was probably just now realizing he was going to miss out on trick-or-treating.

  Nash came in through the back door and into the kitchen, kicking snow from his boots. Ben didn’t even look up.

  “What’s with the C-4?” Nash nodded to the Silly Putty on the counter that Mal had shaped into small bricks.

  “Silly Putty,” she said. Though it probably did look a lot like plastic explosives. She put the bricks in old margarine tubs for storage and went to put them in the fridge.

  “Can I get a couple of those bricks?” Nash asked.

  “Sure.” She handed over half a dozen containers of the C-4 look-alike. At least now she knew how she could revive Ben’s interest in the Silly Putty.

  “It’s nice out there,” Nash said to both of them. “Anyone want to go for a ride after lunch?”

  He’d said it loud enough for Ben to hear from the living room, but he was looking at her and waiting for her answer.

  “I’d love to.” The truth was, after the boys’ excursion yesterday she was starting to feel a bit of cabin fever. “Doesn’t that sound nice, Ben?”

  He kept his eyes glued to his video game and shrugged.

  Nash raised an eyebrow.

  Mal lowered her voice. “It’s Halloween. He’s sulking.”