A SEAL's Return

by Grace Alexander

  “Yes, today. But we need to leave now. I have enough time to have a snack then drive without being rushed.” She paused. “You can Google it if you want to check.”

  “I trust you.” There was no point in double-checking the calendar, and he was struck by Ally’s words falling out of Charlotte’s mouth. Enough time to have a snack then drive without being rushed. It sounded so like her. Never rushing. Always preparing for others, and the thought killed him. Everybody in Tidings had had time to prepare for Ally’s death. Everyone except him.

  Jake cleared his throat. “Okay, snuggle bug. Let me go get—”

  Charlotte beamed. “I already packed my snack.”

  Of course she did. Charlotte prepared like her mother. “Then let’s load up.”

  Jake turned. Charlotte skipped past him and pushed out the front door like the five-year-old that she was, leaving the traces of her always-ready mom behind her.

  He smiled, glad Charlotte forced him out of the house. The fresh air might do him some good.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Mom, please. Pretty please.” Graham pouted in the backseat as Nora watched him in her rearview mirror. “I never want to go, and now I really want to go to the library.”

  Nora had a headache that wouldn’t quit, and with school dismissing early today, she hadn’t finished everything that she needed to. Graham dropping a library request on her shouldn’t have been a problem. But his complete overreaction to her balking was.

  Not that she wanted to punish him for wanting to read, but Nora wondered why it had to be today. Oh, well. How often did Graham beg to go to the library? Never. “Okay, but only—”

  “Thank you!” he chimed with a quick kick of his legs.

  “Only because books are awesome. Not because you pulled an attitude. Do you understand?” She flicked a glance at the rearview mirror, and he beamed.

  “I understand!”

  If anyone ever said that advisors had kids figured out, they were nuts. Nora changed course and maneuvered through town, easing down the quiet tree-lined street, then pulled into the parking lot.

  She gave another glance into her backseat. She had never seen him this ready to be at the library before, and as soon as she shifted into Park, Graham fumbled with his belt. She unbuckled her own seat belt, and he was out the door, barely slamming it hard enough for it to click before he rushed toward the library.

  The quaint library was a converted two-story old schoolhouse. An expansive porch wrapped around the first floor with several double-door entrances inviting patrons in. A line of old trees shaded the porch and towered over the old house. Nora loved its bright red doors, but Graham beelined away from the entrance.

  “What on earth?” She didn’t see where he was—or why he didn’t go inside—and Nora snagged her purse from the passenger seat then swiftly trailed him. “Graham?”

  The parking lot was filled, but that wasn’t a surprise. It was a busy place, but there was nothing to indicate what had caught his interest. Her heart pounded. He wasn’t one to take off, and truthfully, he was a bit tenderhearted. If he was ever separated or lost, he’d worry.

  Nora rushed around the corner, no longer able to see her son. Until she did. His little feet had carried him across a small field to a group of kids and dogs nestled on blankets.

  This was the program where kids read to animals. Nora took a relieved breath and pushed her sunglasses into her hair, getting a better look at the faces. Certainly, Graham had sat with Charlotte. Then a quiet laugh startled her from behind.

  She spun and saw two men. “Jake? And… Dean?”

  Nora had met the other man at a fundraising race, and she’d seen him around town lately with Gillian Paggon, the librarian.

  Dean gave a quick wave. “Nice to see you, Nora. I was just catching up with one of my old buds.”

  “Don’t let me interrupt you. I was”—she gestured toward the group—“chasing my kiddo.”

  Both men cracked smiles, but Dean begged off. “I need to keep an eye on Baxter. He’s fine until a rabbit hops by. Then…” He shook his head. “Pandemonium. Gets the kids laughing, though.”

  The men shook hands goodbye, and Jake eased onto a bench. He had an arm thrown over the back, and he tossed a lazy wave for her to come closer. “You can join me if you like.”

  “I didn’t expect to see you.”

  “I could tell. I’m not sure you expected to see anyone.” He tapped the empty space to his side. “And you look confused, which is my look, considering Charlotte spent thirty minutes explaining a toy she hopes Santa brings her.”

  Nora stepped closer. “Why’s that confusing?”

  “Because the things are named after text speak or emojis. The entire time I thought she was trying to sound like a big kid.” The corners of his mouth curved and his lips pinched as though he knew how ridiculous the situation sounded. “I was translating in my head. Laugh out loud. Be right back, or something. I don’t know, but it turns out that’s what these things are called.”

  “You win the day.” Nora slapped a hand over her mouth and still giggled. “Oh, man.”

  “Like she’s getting a smiling pile of poop.” Jake scowled. “How about these two letters—N. O.”

  Nora couldn’t find him any more endearing. “Okay, you’ve got to let it go. Emojis aren’t going anywhere.” She leaned closer and whispered, “But you don’t have to buy smiling piles of anything.”

  “Fair enough.” He half grinned. “Tell me a funny story from your day.”

  “I had a kid in fourth grade sent to my office today about a money tree.”

  His brow pinched. “What’s a money tree? Other than, man, I wish I had a money tree.”

  “Close.” She tilted her head. “Apparently, if you nag your mom long enough for something, she will shake the money tree and it will arrive.”

  “What?”

  Nora nodded. “Yeah. Needless to say, I have a kicking headache.”

  “And how was this your problem?”

  “His science teacher wasn’t making progress, talked to the parents, who wouldn’t correct their kid, who doesn’t believe in Santa, but does believe in the money tree.” Nora rubbed her temples. “Maybe one of my top ten most-interesting-and-frustrating parent-teacher-child conferences ever.”

  “You don’t get paid enough.” He pursed his lips, failing to hide his laughter. “Whatever you make, that’s not enough.”

  “I don’t know how we ended up here. I just wanted a little quiet.” She finally perched on the edge of the bench, putting far too much thought into how far—or close—she should sit. “We’ve never been to this program before.”

  “Me, either.”

  Nora laughed and massaged the headache at the base of her neck. The fresh air and good company would help.

  “There’s a pressure point that might help. If that’s a tension headache.” He pointed below and then in between his eyebrows. “Take two fingers, like this. Press for a minute then give it a break. You can also do the base of your skull and neck.”

  “Really? Thanks. I rarely get headaches.”

  He shrugged. “It’s handy to know if you’re in the middle of nowhere and one pops up.”

  Wow, he could play down his heroics. She switched to her neck. “Middle of nowhere with a headache, huh?”

  “No, try more like…” Jake scooted over, brushing her hair away. His hands covered hers, holding her fingers still and pressing her thumbs deeper. “Do you feel that?”

  “Maybe.” The reaction sparkling through her was more about his touch than headache mitigation, and she didn’t want him to think she was so shallow a touch could make her flustered. “I think so, thanks.”

  “No, that’s not it, then.” He brushed her hands away. “You would know.”

  Jake ran his hands down her shoulder, twisting her on the bench to position her for better access, then he put his hands on her neck again. They were warm and still. Strong. His thumbs pressed the top of her hairlin
e then slid down her spinal column. Nora’s insides fluttered, same as before when his hands covered hers, then he stilled again. The pads of his thumbs moved away from her spine with a steady pressure until he stopped again.

  “Right here,” he said, kneading her neck then increasing the strength of his touch with a steady push.

  Her head dipped back, and Nora’s breath left as her eyes fluttered shut. A rush of bliss made her mouth taste sweet, and she inhaled deeply, rolling her head up as he carefully released her neck.

  “Like that.” Jake kept a hand at the back of her head.

  Nora took account of her body. The headache had dulled significantly. Was it even there? But better, her muscles had relaxed. She eased to face him again, not wanting to break the trance he’d cast over her loose muscles. “How did you do that?”

  “Pressure points.” He shrugged.

  “Magic.”

  “In martial arts, you can use pressure points to immobilize a person, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Same concept. Pressure points can be applied to basic human reactions. Pain, pleasure. It opens or closes blood flow, releases natural chemicals that can hurt or heal.” Jake didn’t scoot back, and their chemistry didn’t care what barriers they’d erected after they’d nearly kissed. The connection was still there. “All useful things to have in the field if you can’t pop ibuprofen for a headache.”

  Her headache had gone, but her interest in his hands had not. “That really helped.”

  This was the awkward moment, those few minutes that would define whether they could really be friends, and Nora didn’t want to lose him. She couldn’t. Jake had an indescribable quality that made her smile in a way that she hadn’t smiled all day. Shifting her purse into her lap, she brought their attention back to the kids. “Graham isn’t at Charlotte’s reading level. I’m surprised he knew about this.”

  Jake watched her a second longer than was comfortable and eased back against the bench, not sliding away, and cast a long glance onto the field. “She’s been doing this for a few months now. Maybe they talked about it.”

  Maybe they did, but that was a lot of excitement coming from her backseat for a passing mention. How else would Graham know where to go? “Do you think…”

  What if the kids had planned their get-together? But that was a stretch. Wasn’t it? Had Charlotte seen something? Or heard? Were they really asleep the other night? Nora’s mind began to race, and she worried that she and Jake had already messed up. Even now, did friends share pressure points? Her cheeks flamed.

  “Do I think what?” he asked.

  “Nothing.” Nora batted away her crazy idea. They successfully handled a post-near-kiss meetup where they had touched, but it didn’t seem awkward now. That was a huge success! They were friends! She couldn’t ask for anything more.

  The wind picked up fall leaves, and they watched the kids read to animals, occasionally straying to roll away and blow dandelions seeds then rush back to their blankets and dogs.

  Jake turned, tilting his head. “What do you think they’re doing?”

  “Blowing the dandelions?” She turned back to Jake. “Didn’t you do that when you were a kid?”

  “Create a weed problem for my parents?”

  “No!” She rolled her eyes. “They’re making wishes!”

  “Oh, right.” He quieted. “Ally used to do that.”

  How was he handling losing Ally? Was he a talker or someone who bottled up tighter if asked? “Are you okay?”

  Jake lifted a thick shoulder. “Not really.”

  “That was unexpectedly honest.”

  His smile cracked, and he turned, seemingly amused. “That’s me.”

  “So I’m learning. A military man with a soft side.”

  “Whoa, hey now.” He lifted his hands in the air but winked. “I wouldn’t go that far.” After he dropped his hands and the joking subsided, he shrugged. “That’s life. Maybe that’s what they’re out there wishing for. A great life.”

  “A fairy-tale happily ever after.”

  He studied the kids for a second longer. “Yeah, maybe. Who wouldn’t want that?”

  Nora watched him relax. Even if she couldn’t read his mind, it looked as though it was the first time Jake wasn’t worried about raising Charlotte. “I’m happy you’re back in Tidings.”

  Then she bit her tongue to keep from admitting how glad she was to sit next to him too.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The wind picked up, howling. The cloudy day had been scattered with storms, but the worst of the weather had passed. Nora nestled under an afghan on her couch with a pile of notes from the third-grade homerooms. She reached for her mug that had the bright red block print I’M NOT JUDGING YOU, the more delicate script underneath reading I’M PROFESSIONALLY DIAGNOSING YOU, and took a long sip of the decaf mint tea.

  Maybe she should’ve opted for the taller mug that rah-rahed her when she was on a roll with teacher notes. She could quote her favorite mug and made a point to bring it to certain meetings with parents or teachers on the off chance they’d read her mug and have an epiphany.

  BEHIND EVERY JUST KIDDING—There’s the truth.

  PEEKING AROUND THE I DON’T CARES—There’s a hope or a hurt.

  WITH EVERY I DON’T KNOW—There’s an idea wanting to shine.

  Actually, if Nora had the funding, she’d gift all the teachers in her school with that mug. She spun her pen on her fingers, wondering what she would do for the holidays, and the wind blew again, louder than it had been gusting. Today’s storm was over, but the wind hadn’t left.

  Crack.

  Nora startled, spilling mint tea on the stack of papers, and quickly shook the papers dry. There it was again. It wasn’t distant thunder or lightning striking close by, more like a snap or a crack but muffled, and she had no idea what it was.

  Nora put down the tea-dampened papers and listened to the hum of her central heat. Nothing else made a peep. Not even the wind. Whatever that had been, it seemed out of place after a day of branches shaking and wind howling.

  She tossed her pen onto the coffee table, next to her mug and papers, and again listened until the blood whirled in her eardrums. Still nothing. Maybe she shouldn’t have watched a Halloween cartoon marathon with Graham. The cartoons weren’t scary at the time. But look at me now.

  Nora smiled at how easily Graham had gone to sleep hours ago. Maybe she needed to go to bed herself.

  Crack.

  “What is that?” The hairs on the back of her neck stood, and she unwrapped from her cozy afghan at the speed of a snail. “Okay. Let’s figure this out.”

  She crept along her living room, killing the only light, then checked her front door and back. Both were locked. Still no more weird noises. It was just the wind, and she needed to relax. There were a million new noisemaking possibilities with all the new Halloween decorations, a zombie or a ghost smacking a garage, or a fake graveyard or a banshee scratching a fence.

  But those wouldn’t make a cracking noise that seemed to come from her backyard. “Goblins and ghosts, oh my.” She grumbled to herself.

  She leaned against the counter to peek out the window. Again, nothing. Only a black abyss.

  Her paranoia compounded, and when she looked down, the phone patiently waited with a blinking notification. She swiped the screen. She had missed a text message from Jake, and Nora opened it.

  JAKE: Are you awake? Probably not. It’s late.

  She picked up the phone, not bothering to text back, and hit Call. What would she say? At this point, her nerves were so jumbled it didn’t matter.

  “Hey, Nora?” He answered quickly.

  “I hope I didn’t wake you. You’re not in my backyard, are you?” She cringed. That didn’t sound right. Or sane.

  “Uh, no.” He cleared his throat. “Are you okay?”

  “Ha.” She put her hand to her temple as the flames of embarrassment flared. “Never mind. That was ridiculous to ask.”

&n
bsp; “By the tone of your voice, you didn’t think so a minute ago.”

  A minute ago, she hadn’t heard herself speak. He had to think she was losing it. Well, right now maybe she was. Just the other day, she had sworn she saw somebody walking around the backyard, but when she went to check, no one was there.

  “I’m fine. If someone was going to break in, they wouldn’t make so much noise, and they wouldn’t draw out the process.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “‘Tis the season for creepy thoughts, I guess.” Still she couldn’t sit down, and wandering back to the living room, Nora wrapped the afghan back around her and sat upright in the center of her couch, listening for any noise that might sound like that cracking, stripping, plastic-breaking crack that had caught her off guard. “I’m going to go to bed. I think I’ve seen too many scary movies. I’m sorry to bother you, Jake.”

  “Do you want me to swing by and check things out?” he asked.

  Wouldn’t that be nice? She hesitated. But what was he going to do, load Charlotte into his truck? Nora drew a deep breath and picked up her tea. “That’s not necessary, but I appreciate the offer.” She took a slow sip. “I’m gonna put myself to bed now.”

  “You still sound concerned.”

  Nora bit her lip. “Well, I was. But now I’m just going to say sweet dreams.”

  There were very few times that Nora wished she had another person to curl up next to in bed. She wasn’t someone who liked to be held when she slept. The idea of cuddling and spooning worked in the books, but to each his own. It wasn’t just that she was an independent person, it was that she liked to have her own space. Tonight, though, having Jake to lean against would’ve been nice. Even if she had rolled away to take her own space later.

  “All right, then. Sweet dreams, Nora.”

  The call ended, leaving her with her phone limp in her hand.

  That was a red flag that she should have seen with her ex-husband. Nora never wanted to be next to him when they were lying in bed. She liked touching him when it was mutually beneficial, but afterward? She’d never been interested.