“It sounds lovely, it really does. I can buy a tent, though. Maybe Jenna and I will be able to use it again in the future. She’s about that age where she thinks camping is still cool. She’s never been.”
Kelly visibly brightens. “Of course, she’ll love it! We can teach her to fish. If you know how to fish? Tobias can do that whole thing with the cleaning and gutting, and we can make a big dinner of it.”
Seeing how happy she is, it’s hard to temper that enthusiasm, but I have my doubts. “I’m a little surprised…”
Kelly settles her various accoutrement on into her purse, getting ready to get back to work. “What?”
“That Tobias wants to camp while on leave. Especially with how loaded you guys are. I thought he’d want to do some serious pampering.”
Kelly positively giggled. “Pampering? He’s a man, honey. A little bit of a caveman, to be honest. He thrives off all of this minimalist stuff. He loves it.”
I heft my tent out of the back of my truck and heave it over my shoulder. It’s an eight-man tent, but I’m going to spread all my worldly goods over every square inch. I was able to sleep blissfully on my pillow-top, king-size for exactly two nights, that’s all. Blissful may be an over exaggeration. It’s nice enough of an apartment, but I haven’t upgraded in years — it’s well below my paygrade, but it’s not like I’m there often. That means the new neighbor who likes to slam his door every time he comes and goes sent my heart racing every time it yanked me unceremoniously out of slumber. Amazing how many pedestrian sound effects can sound like the pop of a rifle. Good luck trying to get back to sleep when your brain is screaming to be in combat-ready mode.
It should be great out here. I must admit, my sister picked a fantastic spot. We’re out in the middle of nowhere. I take in a big lungful of fresh grass and leaves. Absolute heaven. A dirt road brought me out to an expansive clearing in the middle of acres of wooded park land. The grass is lush, and a dozen vehicles are parked in a line. There’s already some folks milling about and doing their best to haphazardly set up camp.
It’s a beautiful day — the kind I’ve been living off of in my memories. Nothing but bright blue sky over a dark green canopy of trees. There’s an immense lake stocked with trout, but everyone is setting up camp a little too closely to it. I’ll have to get them to back off a little bit.
Kelly’s brother-in-law Thad is unpacking supplies around a charcoal grill with various skewers and metal spatulas. Oh, last night’s luxury surf and turf dinner with Ahi tuna, the house’s biggest cut of filet mignon, and an entire bottle of Malbec — that’s not getting a repeat performance anytime soon. It’s going to be burgers, hot dogs, and trout. Maybe some chips. Perhaps, someone will bring some homemade potato salad. That would be nice. The kind with hard-boiled eggs and mustard. But no. No seared scallops or lobster bisque for me.
Pretty sure I won’t be able to wear my silk robe or get that pedicure out here, either. After eight months in combat boots, a woman who knows how to massage feet and take off those calluses — divine. I’ve been trying to avoid it, and yet that sinking feeling settles into my chest. Not exactly what I was looking forward to.
Still. Kelly looks up from settling a bag of charcoal onto the fresh grass and looks up at me. When she does, she gets the biggest shit-eating grin on her face, and she comes running. I settle the butt of my wrapped-up tent on the ground, because I know I’m going to have to catch. Sure enough, Kelly squeals as she hops up and hangs onto me like her life depends on it. I look over her shoulder, and Dad and Mom are giving me big waves and big smiles.
Okay, okay. This feels good. One thing I have never doubted about my family is their absolute devotion. I set Kelly on her feet, and once again, she’s bouncing with energy. “It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?” she asks.
Her voice rings with enthusiasm, and it touches my heart. “It’s gorgeous, little sister. You’ve done a wonderful job. It’s perfect.”
She takes my hand and pulls me toward a small group of people. “We never rough it anymore. I used to love when you and me went camping together back in high school — out at grandpa’s property up north. It’s so rustic, I love it.”
I let her pull me along and introduce me to some old friends — some of which I recognize and some I don’t — twelve years having transformed all of us. We’ve become fathers and mothers, gained or lost thirty pounds, grown beards – or boobs. I go through the motions, shaking hands and smiling, greeting little kids and practical teenagers who belong to people I went to high school with. I disconnect myself and let my body perform how it is expected — a trick I learned after the first few times coming home so my brain doesn’t get overwhelmed. I split my attention, absorbing names and connections while the other half of my brain surveys the tree line and takes note to keep an eye on that angry dude ordering his family out of the car eighty yards to my two o’clock.
Everyone is so excited about setting up their own tents with their own hands, about fishing and eating the catch of the day, about feeding the fire with wood they gathered from the forest. Sure, here I would assume this whole situation is something that’s enjoyable. Roughing it stopped being exciting a couple months into my first tour. Sleeping in my boots and in clothing I just sweated all day in. The feeling of my undershirt being crusty and dirty. Having to spoon with my battle buddy because the nights get so damn cold there and we have no shelter or blanket. Eating cold MREs day after day. Eating the insects we can find under rocks when those ran out.
No. Going down that train of thought leads to dark places. Needless to say, roughing it in the field is nothing like this. Hell, forget my pillow top and lobster bisque. My eight-man tent is a luxury compared to my idea of roughing it.
So, get over yourself, you ungrateful bastard.
I focus in just enough time to shake hands and catch the name of one of Kelly’s old cheerleader friends from high school. She’s quite a bit younger than me, but she gives me that look — the one I know. Tempting, but it’s not like our situation here is going to allow for much privacy. And once I get a girl like that alone, you better believe she’s gonna be screaming.
My much neglected cock stirs in my jeans, and it’s time to dismiss myself. Out of the corner of my eye, Kelly’s — and thus my — brother-in-law Thad is a struggling with a tentpole. It’s the kind that domes across the tent, and every time he tries to put one end into the ground, the other and goes flying skyward. I can tell he’s about to curse out loud, kids and all. I excuse myself head his way — maybe after we get a couple tents set up, I’ll take him up on his offer to head out on town and find a couple of ladies.
—
“You can just leave your tent right there.” I wipe a little trickle of sweat from over my eye with the back of my hand, the mini mallet clenched in my fist.
The guy’s eyebrows raise. Was it Harry, or Henry? I’ve already forgotten. I’ve met so many old high school acquaintances and family friends today that they’re beginning to blur. There must have been a hundred people by noon. I hear that note in his voice — the one that tells me he’s asking a question, but he would be all too happy for me to give the appropriate answer. “Are you sure? I can help.”
I give Harry or Henry a smile that I know doesn’t reach my eyes. “Nah, don’t worry about it. Go enjoy yourself. My sister’s done a great job getting everyone together. All sorts of people to get reacquainted with over there.” The guy hesitates for just the right amount of time to show he’s willing to stay behind and help. I wave the mallet in the direction of the fire pit I set up an hour ago. “Go on. Get yourself a beer, man. I’ll be over when everything is all organized here. We’ll catch up then.”
Harry or Henry gives me another firm handshake. “Thanks. You’re a real good guy, you know? It’s good to see you again. Welcome home.”
He turns and heads for the beer keg which is quickly becoming the gathering point. I smile at Kelly’s idea of roughing it these days. Camping with kegs. I take a step bac
k and appraise my line of tents. Two straight parallels facing one another with enough room down the center for a Humvee to drive along. Looks good. Looks organized. Looks like a proper camp.
Mom and sis have both been over multiple times to check in on me and see if anybody can come over and help, but everyone is satisfied with my avowal that I couldn’t be happier doing what I’m doing. Truth is, I could be happier in a Jacuzzi tub with a whole bottle of champagne and a pretty young lady sitting on my lap, but this will do. I’d rather be driving in tent poles and wrestling with fifteen-year-old canvas than in the middle of the crowd Kelly has gathered into our campground.
It’s quite the feat, really. There’s dozens of trucks and sedans and minivans parked out at the corner where the gravel trail opens up into this clearing. There has to be — I take a quick surveillance once again, my trained eye adding quickly — three hundred and fifty people here. That’s a lot of burgers and hotdogs. Kelly promises me there aren’t going to be this many people in a continual rotation the entire time we’re camping — it’s just that everybody is so eager to see me.
As much as I’d like it, I find it hard to believe. It’s the novelty of the thing. The fact that my family is hosting an all-expenses paid camping vacation probably helped bolster the numbers. It’s not lost on me that everyone gathering by that beer keg knows one another better than I know any of them. That uneasiness comes over me once again. The uneasiness that makes being home so awkward. Everyone’s life has progressed without me. I may be wearing these jeans that I wore last time I was home, and I may be telling the same jokes I did then as well, but they have their lives, and I have mine. And we don’t know one another all that well after all, do we?
I turn my back to the gathering of friends and drive another tentpole in. My chest seizes at the impact, and a big part of me wants to go find a punching bag and let out the wad of anxiety and aggression trying to make its way out. Truth be told, I would rather be right here, keeping my hands busy than over in the middle of that group of people trying to make conversation with a group of strangers. The very thought of being surrounded by so many bodies — I already almost slugged one of my high school football teammate’s wife when she grabbed my arm from behind. Even though my blood was rushing, I just had to smile and crack some joke about not sneaking up on me. In the field, being in a big crowd like that is a dangerous.
The metallic rattle of a loose catalytic converter grabs my attention. An old, beat up, blue and white pickup truck with rust around the wheel wells pulls up and parks at the end of the long row of visitor’s cars. I get ready to swing my mallet again — probably harder than necessary — when this pretty young thing hops out of the driver’s seat. She swings the door shut natural as can be and bends over the bed of the truck, her feet leaving the ground as she leans in for a duffel bag.
I like a woman who can claim a truck like that. I also like a woman who can claim a pair of jeans like that. Damn. Unlike a lot of the ladies showing up – her jeans belong out here — a little faded but still snug in all the right places.
A young girl bounces out of the passenger’s side and insists on carrying the large duffel bag instead of what is probably the smallest tent anyone has brought. The two must be related. They have the identical shade of blonde – even cut in the same style – and their pretty faces have the same cheekbones and chin. Heck, they even move alike. It’s adorable on the girl and enticing on the woman. It’s a confident stride with shoulders back and head up. It looks good.
I keep checking in on her progress as she nears the beer keg, and Kelly does her skipping run toward the young lady with a squee of delight. The little girl, the I’m guessing is maybe eight years old, throws a huge wave over to a smattering of children and takes off like the wind. The older blonde waves off the froufrou wine cooler offered her and grabs herself a Solo cup of beer from the keg. She’s really racking up the points. Maybe she’ll want to head out to town with Thad and I.
Kelly points over in my direction, and I know what she’s coming for. Not me. It’s that little rolled up thing she has slung over her shoulder. Time to pitch the world’s smallest tent. Gotcha covered.
I play it cool — like I haven’t been watching her all along — as she comes on over and introduces herself. “Hi, Tobias. I’m Casey. You probably don’t remember me. I used to hang out with your little sister a lot in high school.”
Her name does ring a bell, but it’s not because of high school. I stand up and offer her my hand. “If you’re the Casey that Kelly mentions ever so often, it wasn’t just in high school that you two hang out a lot.”
She tucks a strand of that blonde hair behind her ear and averts her eyes down to the toes peeking out from her sandals. “Oh, I didn’t know if you spoke to her much while you were deployed.”
“As much as possible. We get in phone calls sometimes, but most of it is over email.” I reach my hand toward the strap of the tent casing she has slung over her shoulder. “Here, I can take that. You mind being set up next to the Robertsons?”
Her brows furl, and her tone doesn’t carry that usual note of acquiescence. If anything, she’s defiant. “No, I don’t mind, but you don’t have to do it. I’m perfectly capable of setting up my own tent.”
I laugh and hold my hands up in surrender. “I’m sure you are. I just like being able to organize, and it comes together a bit more quickly when I do these things on my own, you know?”
She gets this cute little smile on one side of her lips. “Is that what they teach you in the Navy? Things go so much better when you don’t work as a team?”
She got me there. I try the next tactic. “Really, I don’t mind. You should go and enjoy that beer and meet everyone. You wouldn’t believe how many people Kelly and Mom got together.”
She squints at me this time. “I’m not buying it. I highly doubt you don’t mind getting put to work while you’re home on leave.”
I begin to protest once more, but I’m interrupted by the high-pitched holler of an eight-year-old girl. “Mom!”
Good thing Casey turns promptly at the name so she doesn’t see my eyes go wide. She’s too young to be that kid’s mom. It would be a stretch to put her above twenty-five. Nonetheless, she responds. “What’s up, Sweetie?”
As the girl slams on the brakes right next to her, the resemblance is unmistakable. “Can I go swim in the lake? I have my suit on under my clothes.”
Casey ruffles up her daughter’s hair. “Of course, you can. Go on. I’m going to be here helping Tobias set up the tents. Say hi.”
The little girl gives me a toothy grin, and her hand goes flying a million miles an hour as she waves at me. “Hi, Tobias. Awesome party. Thank you for inviting us.”
I withhold telling the sweet young thing to go thank Kelly. Because it’s the most heart-felt thank you I’ve received all day. “You’re welcome. I hope you and your Mom have fun.”
Casey’s brows furl again as her daughter runs off. “I should say thank you, too. This is the first time Jenna will have ever been camping.”
I take her moment of distraction to slip the tent strap from over her shoulder. “And you’re going to make her squeeze into this thing with you?”
“It says it’s a two-person tent.”
I break out in the first genuine smile that’s come across my face in hours. “Sure. If you’re a couple of spooning teenagers. At least it won’t take long to set it up.”
“Which I can do myself.”
One last try. “If this is your daughter’s first time camping, you should go watch her swim, or something. Enjoy your time with her. That’s what this whole thing is about — family.”
“You don’t know much about kids, do you?” She gives me a second to answer — as though it isn’t obvious I don’t know the first thing about kids. “Jenna is probably going to forget I exist for the next two days. So, I’m going to set up my tent now.” She holds her hand out to me, palm up, in a demanding gesture. “Hand over the tent, Command
er Dean.”
This time, the smile reaches my eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I hope your daughter doesn’t mind spooning with her mother.” Tobias gives me that delicious half-grin I’m already beginning to enjoy.
“Jenna won’t mind. It’s beginning to get a little cold at night, anyway.” I’d stopped correcting people when they called my niece my daughter some time ago. Especially once Jenna started calling me Mom, it was just becoming a continual stream of explaining both of our histories — something I had quickly grown weary of. Besides, we were only going to be around Tobias for a couple of days. “This is actually the first tent I have ever owned. I didn’t grow up in a family that went camping, and we just don’t have the time, either. I picked this up on the way. It was on sale.”
I hand the last of Jenna’s and my things to Tobias, which he lays neatly inside of our tent before zipping it up and getting to his feet. “Ready for another beer and a little time relaxing by the fire?”
This guy. He’s a real treat. “Me? I’m pretty sure you’re the one who’s supposed to be relaxing, here. How soon do you have to be back?”
He sticks one hand in his jeans pocket, the waistband stretching down as he pulls. Empty beer bottle dangling at his other thigh, he begins to guide us towards the growing assembly of his family and friends. “It’s a long leave. I get to roll my holiday leave into my regular one. Nearly a month.”
“And your family has this camping trip scheduled for over two weeks of that leave?”
His half grin is gone, and he breaks out into the full thing, his eyes lighting up and his tone faking incredulity. “This is the kind of thing manly men do, young lady. Now, if only I could go shoot some deer and roast it over a spit, my life would be complete.”
SEAL's Secret: A Secret Baby Military Romance Page 2