This Time for Keeps

by Rochelle Alers

  “Then he won’t let you come through the front door.”

  “The fact that he hasn’t attacked me means I have a fifty-fifty chance of being accepted.”

  Nicole smiled. “He’s not going to attack you. Othello is very protective of me and the boys. Even before I brought him home to live with me, I had to spend time with him at my friend’s house so he could get used to me. Military dogs usually form unbreakable bonds with their human partners, so separating from Keith wasn’t easy for him. He’s allowed the run of this house, but the kitchen is off-limits because the boys like to feed Othello from the table.”

  Fletcher nodded. It was the first time Nicole had referred to the former SEAL by his given name. “Once you forge a bond with someone, whether human or animal, separating can be somewhat difficult.”

  It was Nicole’s turn to nod. “I hope you like meat loaf, because I usually save enough from the night before to have it for next day’s lunch.”

  “I can assure you that I eat any and everything.”

  “I like a man who’s not a picky eater,” Nicole said.

  “If that’s the case, then you’ll definitely like me.”

  Nicole gave him a long, penetrating stare. “What makes you believe that I don’t like you?”

  * * *

  The instant she’d asked the question, Nicole wondered what had made her ask him that. The fact was she did like Fletcher. A lot. And it wasn’t the teenage crush she’d had in what now seemed like eons ago, but as an adult woman who’d found herself attracted to a man. When she’d reassured Fletcher that what he’d said to her was the past, she’d meant it. At that time, she had been so adversely affected by his insult that it had taken a while before she had gained enough confidence to discover men were attracted to her. She’d witnessed death and dying, faced death more times than she could count or remember, so an adolescent boy’s inability to accept rejection had rarely entered her consciousness.

  Fletcher angled his head as he stood straight and clasped his hands behind his back. His stance reminded her of those standing at ease. It was obvious old habits were slow to die. “I don’t know, Nikki. You tell me you’re over what I’d said to you, but somehow I don’t believe it.”

  Nicole turned on the heels of her bare feet. “Come with me, Fletcher, and we’ll talk while I prepare lunch... Are you coming?” she asked over her shoulder when he didn’t move.

  “Yes, Captain Campos.”

  She stopped, turned and gave him a lethal stare. “If you call me that again, I will jack you up,” she said teasingly, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

  Fletcher slowly shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’m at least a foot taller and probably outweigh you by a hundred pounds, and you think you can jack me up. Don’t forget I was Special Forces.”

  “And don’t you forget that marines are the best when it comes to hand-to-hand combat,” she said with a broad grin. She’d become proficient in throwing techniques as a student of judo.

  It was Fletcher’s turn to smile. “I’ll try to remember that when I toss you up in the air like a beach ball.”

  Nicole winked at him. “We’ll continue this later. I don’t know about you, but I need to eat. Whenever I’m stressed out I eat.”

  “You must not get stressed out too much, because you’re definitely not overweight.”

  “That’s because I run every day, rain or shine. I leave the office at two, come home and change and Othello and I go for a run before the school bus drops Luke and Danny off around three thirty.”

  “You have me there, because I don’t run anymore. I can walk at least a mile before I begin limping.”

  She went completely still. Nicole chided herself for teasing Fletcher about jacking him up. She’d forgotten he had a permanent injury. “What about pain?”

  “What about it, Nikki?”

  “Do you have pain in your leg?”

  “It only bothers me when I overdo it.”

  “I’m sorry about teasing you about jacking you up. Please come into the kitchen with me, Fletcher. All I had this morning was a cup of black coffee and right now the caffeine is eating a hole in my stomach.”

  Fletcher moved closer and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Okay.” Othello moved closer and growled a bit. “What’s the matter with him?”

  “Othello is a little overprotective. He gets upset when anyone other than Luke or Danny comes too close to me. But don’t worry because he won’t attack you or anyone unless I give him the command.”

  He put up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Sorry, buddy, I won’t touch her again.”

  * * *

  Fletcher followed Nicole into a fully functional kitchen with state-of-the-art appliances. Even if he’d wanted to touch Nicole, he knew that wasn’t possible with Othello growling at him. He had seen firsthand the serious wounds that military dogs inflicted on an enemy.

  “This is nice,” he said under his breath as Nicole washed her hands in a small prep sink and dried them on a paper towel. “You must do some serious cooking in here.”

  She opened the French-door fridge and removed several covered dishes. “I try. My parents renovated the kitchen before they decided they wanted to relocate. My grandmother came to live with us once Mom went back to work. By the time I was fourteen, I was able to put an entire meal on the table and that included soup, salad, entrée, homemade bread and dessert.”

  “Hot damn!” Fletcher mumbled. “You have no idea how many women I’ve met who claim they only know how to make reservations.”

  “In defense of my sisters, you need to know that we also have careers that leave little or no time to bake bread.”

  Resting his elbows on the granite countertop, Fletcher met her eyes over the cooking island. “A relationship isn’t about one person but two, Nikki. And that means sharing the responsibility of taking care of their children and picking up the slack when it comes to cooking or cleaning the house.”

  Nicole opened the dish with the meat loaf and the ingredients she had seasoned the meat with wafted to his nostrils. She removed the top of another dish filled with sweet potato wedges and then a third with red cabbage.

  “You appear to be the exception rather than the norm, Fletcher. I spent more than a dozen years with some men who reminded me every day of their contempt for a female commanding officer and that they’d rather see me barefoot and pregnant. Women are now CEOs, have run for president, become astronauts, sit on the Supreme Court, and still, we have to be twice as good as our male counterparts.”

  Rising slightly and reaching over the countertop, Fletcher captured her right wrist and stared at the USMC tattooed on the underside. He then quickly released her when he remembered her warning about Othello’s reaction to touching her. “You’re preaching to the choir, Nikki. I do cook a little and I’m willing to help you out whenever you need a sous chef. And I’m committed to helping you with your nephews until Reggie completes treatment.”

  Her hands stilled. “Why, Fletcher?”

  “I’m surprised you have to ask,” he countered.

  “But I am asking.”

  Fletcher knew what he was about to tell Nicole would no doubt shock her, but she had to know how he felt about her. It had been seventeen years since they were in school together and, unknowingly, he had found himself comparing every woman he’d met since that time to her. He had always liked Nicole but, like so many boys, he’d been reluctant to invite her out on a date because of her father. Prom, however, had given him the perfect excuse, though he’d had no way of knowing that she was going with a boy who lived on her street.

  “Even though you were quiet and didn’t hang out with some of our classmates after football games, I got to see another side of you when we were on the yearbook and senior class committees. That’s when I knew I really liked you.”

  “Was
it because I didn’t flirt with you?”

  Fletcher nodded. “I must admit you were a challenge.”

  “Challenge or not, I had no intention of going out with you, even if I hadn’t had a prom date, because I’d promised myself to never date a jock.”

  “I wasn’t a jock,” he said defensively.

  “What else were you, Fletcher? You were the wide receiver for the school’s football team. And rumors were going around that the boys on the football and baseball teams were competing with one another as to how many girls they could sleep with before graduation.”

  Fletcher had known a few guys who’d kept count of the number of virgins they’d had sex with and then bragged openly about it. “You’re right about that. But not everyone was doing it.”

  “It didn’t matter,” Nicole said, “but I wasn’t willing to go into a situation where I’d have to fight off some dude who felt he could force me go to bed with him. And I didn’t want a repeat with Reggie after Traci’s brother nearly beat Scott Remsen to death after he took advantage of her.”

  Fletcher remembered the incident that had caused a schism between neighboring families when Traci Miller accused Scott of rape. Scott had been charged with sexual assault and Traci’s brother with attempted murder. It was enough to curtail the romantic antics of many of the athletes for the remainder of the school year. Nicole’s brother, three years her senior, had been awarded a full athletic scholarship to play football as defensive linebacker at Virginia Tech and had always been very protective of his younger sister.

  “Are you saying if I hadn’t been a jock you would’ve gone to prom with me?”

  She glanced up, meeting his eyes. “No.”

  He sat straight on the stool. “Really?”

  “Don’t look so shocked, Fletcher. You seemed so full of yourself that you thought you could get any girl you wanted. And it did not matter to me that you were voted best-looking. I still wouldn’t have dated you.”

  “Well, damn,” Fletcher quipped. “I had no inkling you thought of me like that.”

  “If you’d asked, I would’ve told you,” Nicole countered. “High school should’ve been fun, but for me it was just the opposite. And because both my parents were lawyers, some of the kids felt I should’ve gone to private school. When I got a car for my sixteenth birthday, I truly became an outsider.”

  “I’m sorry, Nikki. I wasn’t aware you had to go through all that. I just thought it was because your father was a criminal court judge that kids kept their distance.”

  “It didn’t matter then, and it still doesn’t matter. Mom always told me I was unique. The instant I received my lieutenant’s bars, I felt it for the first time.”

  Fletcher watched Nicole as she preheated the stovetop griddle. She appeared quite comfortable in the kitchen when she placed the cabbage in a microwave dish and the fries on a baking sheet in the oven. “Becoming a commissioned officer is quite a feat.”

  “Why didn’t you apply for Officer’s Candidate School?” she asked.

  He lifted his shoulders. “I’d thought about it a few times, but once I decided I wanted to be Special Forces, I knew I’d found my niche. I suppose I was an adrenaline junkie because I was always ready to accept a challenge that entailed danger, and I had to make certain to stay in top physical condition.”

  Her hands stilled. “What I don’t understand is why you turned down full college scholarships to enlist in the military.”

  Fletcher stared over her shoulder at the clock on the microwave. “I never told anyone—not even my parents—but just before we made it to the state championship, a defensive lineman’s helmet hit mine and I went down like a ton of bricks. I was diagnosed with a mild concussion and plagued with headaches for a couple of weeks. I managed to suck it up and went back on the gridiron. Fortunately, it was the last game and we won the championship, but then I’d told myself never again. That’s why I declined the scholarships. Another hit to the head and I’d probably end up brain damaged.”

  “Would you allow your son to play football?”

  “No.”

  “You sound like my brother. Even though he coaches college ball, he says he would never permit his sons to play the game.”

  “Smart man.”

  Fletcher recalled the times when he’d come home after a game, aching all over, and would sit the tub with ice to offset the pain. He knew he had disappointed his parents, his father in particular, who’d hoped he would make it to the NFL, but he’d been too cowardly to talk to them about the blinding headaches that plagued him when he least expected. And not once did he ever regret enlisting in the army.

  Reaching into an overhead cabinet, Nicole took down plates and glasses. “What would you like to drink?”

  “What are the choices?”

  “Water, lemonade and pop. I got rid of the beer and alcohol because Reggie was using them to get high.”

  “I’ll have water. Speaking of beer, did you know that the Wolf Den has designated Mondays as Military Monday? Anyone active or former military can eat and drink half-off everything, as long as you wear something identifying your branch.”

  “How often do you go?” Nicole asked.

  “I try to make it a couple of times a month just for the camaraderie.”

  “I haven’t done any socializing since I’ve been back.”

  “What about Labor Day?”

  “Labor Day may work because I promised Grandpa Clarke he could have the boys that weekend.”

  Fletcher’s smile was dazzling. “Are we on for Military Monday?”

  “Yes.” She had packed several T-shirts with the corps insignia she usually wore while doing housework and she had a cap that matched the fatigues she’d worn when serving in Afghanistan. She opened the eye-level oven to check on the potatoes before placing three slices of meat loaf on the heated stovetop griddle. “I’d like you to answer one question for me.”

  His smile faded. “What is it?”

  “Are you seeing someone?”

  “No. Why?”

  “You seem to have a lot of free time. You’ve volunteered to spend weekends with me and my nephews, and you just invited me to join you at the Den for Military Monday.”

  “I manage the business whenever Pop takes off, and that has become more often now that I’m back. I’m also restoring classic cars in my spare time.”

  Fletcher told Nicole that whenever he’d been granted leave, he’d come back to Wickham Falls to reconnect with his family. Once he was deployed, the visits became more infrequent, which had served to exacerbate his mother’s anxiety.

  “After I was medically discharged, I stayed with my parents while at the same time looking for a house in The Falls. I’ve always liked this side of town, but folks that live here aren’t willing to sell or move. That’s when I discovered the old Hutchinson place was on the market.” The neighborhoods in Wickham Falls were reminiscent of many throughout the country where social strata were evidenced by the size of one’s home, make and model of car, level of education, and a clear delineation between the professionals, working class and the poor.

  Nicole gave him a direct stare. “You got Old Man Hutchinson to sell his place?”

  Fletcher chuckled softly. The widowed Korean War veteran’s grandfather had built the house and Owen Hutchinson had refused to part with it. Despite many offers above what the house was worth because of the land on which it sat, and the pleas from his grandchildren to sell and come live closer to them.

  “One day I drove by and saw him sitting on the porch wearing his uniform. I stopped and over the next couple of hours, we traded war stories while drinking beer. That’s when he disclosed that we both had been awarded Purple Hearts and Bronze Stars.

  “The conversation changed when I told him I was looking for property in The Falls, but I wasn’t having much luck. He said he was willing to sell
his house, but only to a disabled war veteran. Being disabled was the deal breaker. I used my GI benefit to purchase the property and had a contractor gut the interior, expand it two thousand square feet, add a second story, a two-car garage and erect another garage that doubles as a body shop.”

  Nicole smiled. “You had to have some special mojo to get him to give up his house. I remember overhearing folks talk about Mr. Hutchinson’s house being deemed unsafe for him to live in, because it looked so shabby from the outside.”

  “Actually, all it needed was replacement windows and a new coat of paint. There were times when I drove by that I thought the house was going to fall down with him inside. Even though the old man was a hoarder, an engineer had found the house structurally sound.”

  “How many cars have you restored?” Nicole asked as she lowered the flame under the griddle and turned over the meat loaf.

  “Four. Right now, I’m working on a 1953 Studebaker. I’ve rebuilt the engine, but it’s going to take a while to repair the interior and the body.”

  “What do you do with them once they’re completely restored?”

  “I sell them to collectors. If you’re free this weekend, I’d like you to come over and look at what I’m working on.”

  Fletcher knew he was getting ahead of himself, but he’d enjoyed spending the morning with Nicole. It was as if they were back in school, where she had been so easy to talk with. There never had been a need for him to be other than who he was—himself. It hadn’t been that way with other women.

  He had been truthful when she’d asked him if he was seeing someone. He had dated a woman for several months after becoming a civilian, but it had ended as quickly as it had begun. It was only after the split that Fletcher knew he wasn’t mentally and/or emotionally ready for a committed relationship. He didn’t want a relationship with Nicole as much as he wanted to revive their friendship from before he’d asked her to prom.

  “I can’t this weekend, but can I have a rain check for the next one?”