SEALs of Chance Creek 01 - A SEAL's Oath

by Cora Seton

  Fulsom wasn’t wrong; Riley’s B&B confused the message. It would confuse viewers. Boone had seen enough reality television to know the recipe: simple message, simple storyline, lots of human interest. One big goal at the end.

  Jane Austen didn’t fit anywhere in that formula.

  But how could he tell Riley?

  “LAUNDRY DAY, I see?” Maud said several days later when Riley was just wringing out a dress and adding it to the stack of others in preparation for hanging them on the clothesline. She looked up to see both Maud and James had managed to sneak up on her. It was the second time she’d performed the arduous task, but she didn’t mind it. The physical work left her mind free to wander, and she had so much to think about these days. She’d decided the trick was to do the laundry more frequently, so there was less to wash at one time.

  Andrea had jumped at the chance to hold her wedding at Westfield. “She’s waited five years for him to propose,” Savannah said to explain her cousin’s extremely short engagement. “She’s afraid if she waits too long he’ll change his mind again. That’s why she wants to host it here. She knows it’ll be unique and she won’t be able to find a venue this last-minute in California.” They were already working like crazy to be ready on time, but the truth was, Riley was excited, too. She was sure they could pull it off, and Savannah had dropped hints that Andrea’s family was very well connected. The word-of-mouth advertising she and her friends might give them couldn’t be beat.

  Savannah had taken charge of the project and had written up huge to-do lists for each of them. Now every moment of their spare time was taken with wedding preparations, but although they’d shortened their afternoon creative hours, they’d made a promise to each other not to abandon them altogether. Riley had begun a new painting that really interested her. It was another landscape, but it included the manor and the outbuildings. She was trying to contrast the manmade house and barns with their natural setting. She was struggling toward some kind of understanding she couldn’t quite grasp yet, but she was confident it would come. This was what she’d missed about art.

  “Looks like hard work,” Maud went on, lifting her skirts and coming closer. “You ladies need to hire help.”

  “We probably will in the future.” Riley’s hand drifted down to her abdomen. In a day or so she’d be able to take a pregnancy test and it was hard to think of anything else. She didn’t feel pregnant, but she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to feel anything this early on.

  “I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you four have come to town. Westfield is a special place. It deserves special treatment.”

  Riley nodded and plunged the last dress into the scalding hot water. She’d already done the sheets, towels and other household linens. She was getting faster at the job.

  “How are your preparations going for Savannah’s cousin’s wedding?”

  “There’s still so much to do.” Riley kept working. “You should see our lists.” She knew if she didn’t start on her own wedding plans soon, she’d never be ready for June first, either.

  “I came to make you an offer. I know you’ll try to refuse because you’re so well-mannered, but I want you to consider it carefully. I hope you’ll indulge an old woman.”

  “You’re not old,” Riley told her.

  Maud waved that away. “Just listen. I’d like you to borrow Mrs. Wood for the duration of the wedding party’s stay.”

  Riley sat back on her heels. “We couldn’t do that. We can’t afford—”

  “I’ll pay her wages. She’ll simply report to you instead of me.” Maud looked very satisfied with this idea, but Riley was already shaking her head.

  “That’s way too expensive. We couldn’t possibly—”

  “Nonsense, dear. You’ll let Mrs. Wood help you and that’s that. I insist.”

  Riley faced Maud with exasperation. “That’s far too extravagant.”

  “You can’t stop her. She’s a very determined woman,” James put in with a smile.

  Maud tutted. “It would be downright mean of you to deprive Mrs. Wood of this opportunity. She loves to cook for a crowd. She heads up the food committee for the re-enactment group every year. She’s a genius at cooking over an open hearth and she hardly gets a chance to do it. You have no idea how happy it would make her. I’ve explained to Mrs. Wood about Avery’s interest in historical cooking and she’s agreed to teach Avery all her little tricks when there’s time.”

  “I’ve heard the Civil War re-enactments are a big thing in the summertime.” Riley gave up. They needed a caterer, after all, and Mrs. Wood was a fantastic cook.

  “You should see it. The whole thing was petering out about eight years ago and there was talk about shutting it down. Then we had a resurgence and now the club is bigger than ever. It’s become an event everyone loves.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  “Back to the wedding,” James said. “You’ll need carriages and drivers. With livery. We’ve got just the thing.”

  “Oh, but—”

  “I’ve been waiting for an occasion to pull our old covered buggy out of storage,” he said. “I know a couple of young bucks who’d enjoy the work.”

  Riley’s protests were all in vain. “I can’t let you and Maud fund our entire venture,” she finally exclaimed.

  “My darling girl, someday I hope you’ll understand how tiresome it is when you’ve amassed great wealth and no one will allow you to spend it on them. Why on earth did I work all these years if I’m not allowed to enjoy it?”

  Riley had never seen the dear old man so serious. She stood up and hugged him impulsively. “I don’t know what to do with you two.”

  “Enjoy us as much as we’re enjoying you,” Maud advised her. “And let my dear husband have some fun organizing things for you!”

  “I can do that—as long as you agree to be guests of honor at the wedding!”

  “WHAT’S EATING YOU?” Clay asked when he stumbled on Boone pacing the bunkhouse later that day.

  Boone decided it was time to confess. “I think I screwed up. Big time.”

  “Uh-oh. What’d you do?” Clay leaned against the desk he’d built for Boone. “It can’t be that bad, can it?”

  “Worse.” Boone related his discussion with Fulsom.

  Clay whistled. “Why haven’t you said anything to Riley?”

  “Because she’s going to be upset. I told her she could have a Regency wedding. I said I wouldn’t separate her from her friends. Now I have to tell her I was full of shit.”

  “At least they can hold Savannah’s cousin’s wedding. Filming won’t start until a week later.”

  “I hope that cushions the blow a bit,” Boone said. “But what if Riley calls everything off?”

  “Maybe you two should move your wedding up and get it done before Fulsom comes. You could always do a second wedding for the show.” He eyed Boone speculatively. “Should I be worried about the fact Riley still hasn’t told her friends about your engagement?”

  “I sure am,” Boone said.

  “I noticed she’s not wearing a ring, either.”

  “I haven’t bought it yet.” Boone couldn’t look Clay in the eye. “I was…” He’d been about to say afraid, but he didn’t want to admit that. “I was worried that I’d jinx it somehow. Like if I bought the ring too soon it would mean it wouldn’t happen.”

  “You’re not usually superstitious.”

  “I’ve never wanted anything this much.”

  Clay rubbed the back of his neck. “Time to buy that ring, Boone. Time to tell her the truth, too. You can’t mix marriage with lies, I know that much.”

  “What if she says no?” Boone asked.

  “You’ll have to find someone else.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  Clay pushed away from the desk. “Then tell her it’s only for six months, and we’ll do everything we can to make it up to them later.”

  “I guess that’s our only shot,” Boone said.

  B
ut he didn’t think it would work.

  “THEY MAKE A good couple, don’t you think?” Boone whispered into Riley’s ear the following night. They were seated on a divan in the Russells’ parlor watching Savannah play the piano and Jericho turn the pages for her. Jericho had already botched it once. Riley was beginning to suspect he didn’t actually read music. But his interest in Savannah was plain to see and it worried her.

  She’d wanted to warn her friends about the men, but she couldn’t do that without telling them about her own engagement—and why she’d initially agreed to it. If they thought she was only marrying Boone to save Westfield, they’d have all kinds of objections. As much as they loved the manor and their plans for it, none of them would understand why she’d go so far to save it. They didn’t understand her past and what it meant to her.

  It was all so complicated. She loved Boone, even as she knew she had to protect herself from his tendency to rank Base Camp above her aspirations. It hurt to know that what was important to her came second in his book, but at the same time she could understand his position. If you believed you could alleviate future suffering, it made sense to focus on taking those steps. But wasn’t there a balance?

  “I’m not sure,” she said to Boone. “I don’t entirely trust Jericho’s intentions.”

  “I think he intends to care about Savannah.”

  “But does he intend to care about what she cares about?” Riley asked.

  She wanted her friends to fall in love with good, decent men. Jericho and Clay fit that bill. Still, they shared Boone’s obsession. She didn’t want Nora and Savannah to face the gut-wrenching choices she was having to make. Savannah had been spending every spare moment at the piano. Nora was back to working on her novel. If Clay or Jericho put an end to that, she’d be furious.

  “He’d do his best,” Boone said.

  “I’m not sure that’s good enough.”

  It wasn’t entirely fair of her to say that. Boone had been trying to work out with her how to balance their competing interests, but she still couldn’t shake the sense that Base Camp—and Fulsom’s orders—would always come first. As they talked more about the show, Boone had begun to hint that it might take up most of her time. It had been a blow to realize she’d have to shelve her painting for another six months, especially when she was beginning to make progress. Still, if it meant she could hold onto Westfield and build a future here long term, she could handle that. What made it difficult was that Boone didn’t have to give up anything. On the contrary, he always got what he wanted. She’d agreed to move down to Base Camp for the duration of the filming. She’d agreed to help out with his projects. She’d agreed to hold their wedding on camera. It was hard not to resent Boone when everything skewed his way.

  The piece came to an end and everyone clapped. As a musical evening, the night had been a great success. The Russells had invited the Halls, too, and while their modern clothing made a contrast in the parlor, the musical members of that family had jumped right in to play, too. Regan turned out to be a whiz on the piano, while Storm had a wonderful singing voice, but Riley enjoyed most of all the rousing chant offered up by the Hall men, apparently a tame version of the ones they’d all learned in their various branches of the military during basic training.

  The evening was filled with chatter and laughter and Riley wished she could enjoy it as much as everyone else was. She tried her best, leaving her hand clasped in Boone’s as they listened to the ’60s ballad Ella chose to sing.

  She had begun to get excited about the wedding they were planning for Andrea, who had decided to come to Westfield several days early with all her bridesmaids and spend an extended weekend at the manor. She and her bridesmaids wanted a Jane Austen experience, and Savannah had gotten their measurements and had contacted Alice Reed, the local seamstress Regan had mentioned, who was excited to create several gowns for each participant.

  Alice had stopped by that morning with sketches and examples of her work, and all of them had been stunned to see her beautiful creations. Riley and the rest had immediately commissioned her to make dresses for them for the wedding, too.

  If she could hold out for six months, there’d be more weddings to plan, she reminded herself. There’d be plenty of time for painting, too. Things would get better. She had to be patient.

  Later that evening, Colt Hall asked for the chance to drive a carriage, and James assented. When it was time to go, Colt sat on the barouche’s high driver’s seat with James. As Savannah, Nora and Avery climbed into their seats, Boone asked Riley, “Want to ride with me on Behemoth?”

  “I’d have to sit side saddle.”

  “I think we can manage it.” He lifted her up and sat behind her. Keeping Behemoth’s pace at a slow walk and his arms around Riley, he directed the horse along the road by the light of the stars after the rest of the Halls drove off in their trucks and the carriage set out toward Westfield.

  “You’re quiet,” Boone said.

  “I’m okay.”

  “Good.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “You enjoyed the music?”

  “And the company, and the food and… everything.” It was too nice an evening to spoil it with her worries.

  “So you think you can be content here?”

  “I think so.” She snuggled closer into his arms, wishing she could answer him unconditionally.

  They rode along in peace for a while before Boone sighed.

  “What is it?” Riley asked sleepily, the sway of the horse and the late hour combining to make her eyelids heavy.

  “I have to tell you something. Something big.”

  His serious tone roused her a little. “What is it?”

  “I love you. You know that, right?”

  “Yes,” Riley whispered. Despite everything, she felt utterly secure these days in the knowledge of how much Boone cared for her. It was evident in the way he touched her so reverently. The way he made sure of her pleasure before his own. He had even begun to give the arts a little more weight in his conversations.

  “You know how important Base Camp is to me, too. Not because I’m out for glory, but because I truly want to help.”

  “Yes.” She struggled to sit up, intent on giving him her full attention.

  “I’ve never told you why.”

  “No,” she agreed. “You haven’t.”

  “I’d like to, if you’re willing to listen.”

  “Do you really have to ask?”

  For a moment the only sound was the clip-clop of Behemoth’s hooves on the road. A light breeze touched her face, but otherwise the night was still and warm. Riley wished Boone’s words hadn’t conjured such uneasiness in her, but she knew he wouldn’t have brought up the topic if it weren’t important.

  “It was just over two years ago. My team was sent to Yemen. I haven’t always gotten to serve with the Horsemen, but this time we were together. Good thing. I needed them.”

  Fear tightened Riley’s gut even though Boone was safe here in Chance Creek with her. She hated the thought of him being in danger.

  “Our job was to rescue four aid workers who’d been caught in the civil war that’s been tearing up that country.”

  “I didn’t realize it’s been going on so long.”

  “It didn’t make the news much back then, but believe me, things were bad. The workers were there to bring medical supplies for a civilian hospital. A battle broke out around them while they were en route, and they got stuck. They couldn’t go forward and they couldn’t go back. They had very little food. Even less water. They made a break from their car and holed up in a bombed-out building they thought was empty. It had been a school—and they found children hiding there, too.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  “They were able to communicate with us via satellite phone. The good news was they had a solar-charger for it and we were able to speak frequently. The bad news was we couldn’t catch a break. Every time we thought we could get in to extract them, something went wro
ng.”

  “It sounds horrible.” She could picture Boone pacing a room while he and the others tried to sort it out. She knew he’d have wanted to charge in and get those kids. What an awful kind of restraint he’d learned in his time with the SEALs.

  “We talked with the aid workers for five days while they watched over and cared for the children with what little supplies they had. We tried to help keep up their morale as the situation got worse. We took turns.” His voice was so bleak she wanted to hold him. Instead she kept still and let him talk.

  “They took turns, too,” he said. “Two of them keeping watch, one of them sleeping, one of them talking. My mark was Francine Heller. We talked for hours. Francine was sixty-eight. A hell of a woman. You would have liked her.”

  She closed her eyes against the sting of tears. Would have liked. Francine hadn’t made it, then. “What did you talk about?”

  “War. Love. Hate. Death. Life. Belief.”

  All the conversations she wanted to have with him. “What did she say?”

  “That life was worth fighting for. That the West has to understand what’s happening to the East. That things are changing—they’re always changing—and somehow we have to learn to be more adaptable.”

  “She sounds wise.”

  “Yemen’s civil war is about resources, Riley. At the end of the day it always comes down to that.”

  “Which is why you’re building Base Camp.” The rocking motion of Behemoth beneath her grounded her in a way she needed right now. There was so much suffering in the world. She was lucky—so very lucky—to be safe, warm, fed, clothed and in the arms of someone she loved. “What happened to Francine?”

  Boone just shook his head, his chin grazing her hair. “I lost her, Riley. I lost all of them. I was on the phone with her when another strike took them out.” His arms tightened around her. Riley’s chest ached for those children, for Francine.

  For them all.

  “So when I’m too focused on my work, or when I demand things of you, I’m not trying to be an ass. I’m fighting for Francine in the only way I know how.”

  It was her turn to nod. She couldn’t speak.

  “There’s something I haven’t told you,” he went on. “I should have been honest right from the start. I was… afraid… I’d lose you, too.”