Navy SEAL Protector

by Bonnie Vanak

  Are you the one? The question was on the tip of her tongue. But here was not the place to ask, not with Flo’s crowded with eavesdroppers.

  I’ll ask him. Soon as this business with the town council is over.

  She had to, because she needed to know where she stood with Nick Anderson, no matter what his plans for the ranch were.

  * * *

  At 4:00 p.m. sharp, Shelby met Nick outside by his truck to drive into town for the council meeting. Her jaw dropped upon seeing him stride out of the house, keys jingling in one hand. Gone were the wild, tangled dark blond locks spilling down to his collar. His hair was clipped neatly, and he’d shaved the day beard. Most surprising was the black blazer, crisp white shirt and pressed black trousers he wore, along with polished shoes.

  She’d been there when he received the haircut, but combined with the new clothing, he was a completely different man. Handsome before, now he was knock-down gorgeous and stylish.

  Shelby’s mouth quirked up in amusement as Nick swept her a low bow.

  “You shine up very nicely, Nick Anderson.”

  He ran a hand over his shorter hair. “Reckoned I should dress for the occasion. The biker look only goes so far with local officials.”

  For this meeting, she’d chosen a turquoise blue embroidered shirt with ruffles, spanking new jeans and her western boots. Instead of pulling back her hair into its usual ponytail, she let it fall loose around her shoulders.

  In a briefcase, she carried her speech and notes about Belle Creek’s history. Beaufort might try to muscle the council into the zoning change, but she was prepared to dazzle them with reminders of the ranch’s long-standing history with the town.

  “You look amazing,” Nick murmured, as he opened the door for her. “Good enough to eat. Maybe I’ll save you for dessert later, after this circus sideshow we’re headed to.”

  Blushing, she climbed into the truck, fisting her hands in her lap to hide their shaking. Public speaking wasn’t her strong suit, but if it meant thwarting Beaufort, she’d preach to a stadium filled with people. Shelby had spent several hours last night practicing her speech before a mirror.

  They arrived early, as planned, and found two seats in the auditorium close to the stage, where the long table had been set up for the town council.

  As people drifted into the room, Nick reached over and held Shelby’s hand. Felt good, and his touch grounded her, especially when Chuck Beaufort arrived. He glanced at Shelby, nodded at Nick and took the seat in the front row.

  The meeting began, and Mayor Glen read out the proposed zoning change. Then he opened the floor for comments. Tension knotted her stomach. On the stage were the town’s most prominent citizens, and she knew they didn’t have a high opinion of her. How could she hold her own against them? Make them listen to what she said?

  Chuck Beaufort was first to the microphone. In his Italian silk suit and red power tie, Beaufort looked relaxed. Confident, as if he’d already convinced the council to vote for the zoning change. He began his speech, and every single word felt like a hammer on her head.

  “Benefits will be many for this town. The future is here and the opportunity is now. The zoning change my company requests will bring jobs to many. It will bring in revenue and growth.”

  When he finished, Shelby bristled. Nick put a calming hand on her arm, but she shook it off. She marched to the microphone and cleared her throat. “I have something to say.”

  Forget the planned speech. She decided to speak from the heart, and hopefully, it would hammer home her point to those listening. Though he had finished speaking, Beaufort stood nearby, as if to counter anyone who dared to speak out.

  “Benefits will be many to Mr. Beaufort. He’s the one who will profit the most. Is there a guaranteed promise of jobs for people in the town, or is he going to bring in his own people from Nashville?”

  The developer looked away, a flash of guilt in his eyes. Oh, yeah, she knew he was. Promise jobs to locals on the premise of building the park and then give the jobs to the workers from miles away.

  “Developing this land and bringing in a theme park will bring tourists, yes, but lots of traffic and problems,” she continued. “Our infrastructure can’t support it. It means the burden of more taxes on us for roads, water and sewage, law enforcement and fire protection. Barlow will lose everything we stand for, everything that brings this community charm. I swear it, Barlow will turn from a strongly knit small town into a tourist trap.”

  She kept hammering at them, but the town council looked at her with the same blank stares as the cows on the Cherrywood Farm next door.

  When she finished, Shelby’s shoulders sagged. No use. They were sold on Beaufort’s proposal, and once the zoning change was approved and the development approved, there was nothing to stand in his way.

  Nothing but Nick Anderson and a contract of sale for the three hundred acres Beaufort needed.

  The timer dinged, and her five minutes were up. Shelby stepped back, her shoulders straight.

  Until Beaufort took the microphone again. “Very eloquent speech, Miss Shelby. Very noble of you to defend the ranch, even though you have no ownership in it.”

  That sucker punch nearly knocked the breath out of her. Ignoring the frantic waves of the mayor, she gave it right back to Beaufort.

  “I don’t have the deed to the farm, but I have ownership of it. Everyone does, because the farm has been here for five generations. We all own a piece of its history, as much as we share Flo’s café and picnics by the river and the 4-H club. It’s what makes this town a real community, not merely a place to live. And if you’re too greedy to understand that, then you don’t understand what keeps most people in Barlow.”

  Silence for a moment. Beaufort looked stunned, as if no one ever dared to speak back to him. Then from the back of the room she heard a familiar raspy voice.

  “You tell ’em, Shelby!”

  Glancing back, she saw Vern Dickerson stand, straight and tall, giving a fist pump to the air. He wore his veterans ball cap. Then he applauded.

  The applause began to spread, and it thundered through the room. Filled with pride, she smiled and resumed her seat.

  She’d stated her piece, and it felt wonderful. Judging by the approval of the crowd, they thought it was wonderful, too.

  The grim faces of the town council disagreed.

  Nick gave a gentle squeeze of her hand. “Thanks, Shel,” he murmured.

  Harvey Glen and the other council members weren’t looking at her. They looked at Beaufort. The developer stood nearby, his grin making him resemble a fat Cheshire cat. Elation faded. What was the use? They were on the developer’s side. Thought his park meant an infusion of cash, and jobs.

  It wasn’t her farm. She was only an employee. Maybe it was time to move on. Get a real home of her own, instead of spending all her time trying to save one that seemed impossible to rescue.

  Her spine might have looked plenty straight, but she felt ready to crumble. Nick took one look at her.

  “If that’s all the public has to say, then I move that—” the mayor began.

  “Hold on a moment, Harvey,” Nick called out.

  Climbing over Shelby, Nick approached the microphone. He gave a pointed look to Beaufort, who finally sat down. Then he didn’t address the council, but turned to face the packed auditorium.

  “Most of you know who I am. Nick Anderson.” A slow, charming grin. “I’m the one y’all prayed for in church when I was growing up because my dad said I would be the death of him, and y’all loved Silas.”

  A few chuckles. Nick continued, his Deep South drawl much more pronounced.

  “Y’all call me a hometown hero. I’m no hero. I was doing my job as a SEAL, just like all the other guys who fought. Some paid with their lives. Now I’m back home and I’m askin
g you to be heroes and vote against this zoning change.

  “My family’s farm is in trouble. No secret in town. The farm has been a part of this community for five generations. But I’m not addressing my problems. I’m addressing the problems that will happen if you vote on this zoning change and bring in big-city business to this community. All the traffic that will clog up Main Street, the tourists who will bring in more business, yeah, but we’ll need more motels and restaurants. Big chain ones. No tourists are gonna come to Main Street to eat at Flo’s. All that will be gone. Just a concrete jungle with flashy lights. All that pretty hometown charm gone forever.

  “This town’s always had charm, warmth and a good dose of neighborly kindness.” Nick swept his hard gaze over all the town council. “What’s going to happen to the Barlow I grew up in? The town that held a concert each year to raise money for the youth center? The town that came to my family’s farm and took sleigh rides at Christmas?”

  Murmurs sounded among the audience. Nick turned back to the town council.

  “And yeah, Barlow sure could use an infusion of cash-spending tourists. I’ve been thinking, with the big country-music convention that comes to town each year, no reason why we couldn’t throw a concert at the farm of our own. Showcase local talent, and pull in big names from Nashville who’d be happy to help.”

  He pointed at Mayor Glen, who looked interested. “Harvey, you have connections to agents of some of Nashville’s stars. If you could coax some big names into playing on the farm, well, I’d be happy to set up the land for the concert. Might even stretch it to two days, make it a country-western Bonnaroo. Smaller, of course.”

  He flashed that to-die-for grin again. “Flo, darling, I reckon the tourists would love that homemade cherry pie you make. You could set up a stand, we’d have food concessions, the works. And people would need places to stay, so there would be a need for more motels. I reckon once they came and saw our small-town charm, they’d want to return for shopping on Main for quilting supplies or picnics by the river, even a petting zoo.” He pointed to Howard Freelander. “Howard, I bet if you set one up, people would love to bring their kids and buy some of your wife’s apple butter.”

  Now the murmurs rose to excited voices. The council looked impressed—most of all, Mayor Glen, who owned a musical instrument shop in town that sold vintage guitars. Shelby silently cheered on Nick. All the things she’d said had fallen on stone-deaf ears with the town council. They ignored her. But Nick wasn’t having that. They would not ignore him. Not now. Not ever.

  He was an Anderson. A hero.

  Mayor Glen pounded the gavel. “Order.”

  “If you want, I’d be happy to work up a proposal for you to look over.” Nick hooked his thumbs into the belt loops of his trousers. “Sound good? I’d need two weeks to work on it.”

  He glanced at the other four members of the council. “I move that the council postpone the business of the zoning change until three weeks from today.”

  “Hey, wait a minute,” Beaufort argued, but Mayor Glen pounded the gavel again.

  The council voted 4-1 to postpone the zoning change. Nick stood up and gave Beaufort a mock salute as the man scowled at him.

  Then he took Shelby’s arm, escorting her out of the room as people called out to him, waved and smiled at him. And they waved at her as well. For the first time, Shelby felt like a real part of this community.

  When they had climbed into the truck and were headed back to the farm, Shelby thanked him. Nick smiled, a real smile this time.

  “I’ll need your help with writing the proposal, gathering the information. Dan’s, too. He was great at organizing the pumpkin patch. I’m sure he can work out the details on the land, how many facilities we’ll need, the works. Maybe get the town to pay for the sheriff’s office for security details.”

  “That was very good. The council listens to you.”

  Nick gave a self-deprecating shrug. “They know Beaufort’s development sounds good for the town, but it’ll change everything. I reinforced what you said, Shel.”

  “Does this mean you’re staying? Or was that all a speech to delay things?”

  Nick sighed. “I promised you I’d stay until we got the money or the bank foreclosed, Shel. I aim to stick to that.”

  “And after? If they vote on the proposal, or they don’t, what are you doing then?”

  One hand on the steering wheel tightened to white-knuckle intensity. “Let’s take it one step at a time. Can’t we celebrate the victory of Beaufort not getting his way?”

  One day at a time. Oh, she was so good at living that way. And tired of it, never having a future, always being the responsible one to make sure all flowed smoothly. Suddenly it wasn’t good enough. “We need to figure out a plan for next month if the council doesn’t approve your plan, Nick. Did you see Bob Miller’s face? He voted against the postponement. He’s firmly in Beaufort’s pocket. He’ll find a way to get the others to turn down whatever you come up with.”

  Nick turned his head, frowning. “When did you turn into such a pessimist, Shelby? What happened to the girl who was determined to make the best of it?”

  Anger bubbled up inside her. It finally exploded like a firecracker.

  “She grew up, Nick. Someone had to, while you were off, not caring what happened here, not sticking around. Someone had to deal with the repairs, the bills, your father getting sick and someone trying to run us off the property and sell to Beaufort. You never wrote. Never kept in touch.”

  He pulled off to the side of the road and shut off the engine. Nick twisted his body around to face her.

  “If I hadn’t left, Silas and I would have come to blows. My old man was right. I was headed on a highway to hell and ruin, and that’s why I left, Shelby. The navy straightened my ass out. Don’t lecture me about responsibility. I sent money home when I could. When Jake wrote and told me things were tight, I sent more.”

  Stunned, she stared at him. “Jake never said a word about it.”

  He pushed a hand through his hair. “I told him I didn’t want Silas knowing where the money came from. I knew how proud the old man was, and how he’d never turn to me for help. I did write. I did keep in touch.”

  Tension made his jaw taut. “I wrote Dad a letter after boot camp. Told him about how I needed the navy to straighten out, kick my butt into shape. Told him my plans for being a SEAL and how I wasn’t going to give up until I made the teams. And then I made the teams and called home to tell him. He promised to show up at the ceremony. He didn’t. Said he had to deal with a horse show.”

  Shelby swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Nick. He did. It was a crazy time, none of us could spare a moment. He wanted to fly out there, but we needed that revenue.”

  “I can understand that. But I became invisible to him after I became a SEAL. I wrote, because Silas hated email. I asked him to tell you, Jake and Dan and his family about what I was doing. He never wrote back. I wrote him again, and he never wrote back. Finally, after ten letters, I gave up. What was the point? Jake was the only one who wrote one or two letters. No one else did. Not one letter, email or phone call. I’d get deployed down range, not knowing if I was going to come home in a body bag, and the worst part of it? I had no family who cared if I lived or died.”

  Her heart tumbled to her stomach as he fisted his hands, his breathing ragged. “I’d walk off that plane and all the other guys had girlfriends, wives, fathers, mothers, families and friends to greet them, wave flags, give hugs. Me? I had no one. So I figured all of you wanted it that way, and I never looked back.”

  At a loss for words, she remained silent a moment. All the years she’d resented Nick for leaving a family she thought was gold, thinking he was too good to stay in touch with his father because he was a hotshot SEAL. All the time he’d been pining for connection from home. Wanting his dad to keep in touch
. And Silas had never done so.

  “We never got those letters.” She struggled to speak as emotion closed her throat. “Silas never told us. Not me, anyway. And Jake never said anything. I know you had problems with your dad, but he was a good man. He was strict and tough, but I know he loved you, Nick. He told me how worried he was about you in the navy. Each time we heard another SEAL got killed in action, he’d pray it wasn’t you. He was very proud of you, Nick.”

  Shadows lingered in his dark, haunted gaze. “Then why didn’t he ever tell me, Shelby? When I got wounded and ended up in Walter Reed, I thought about calling home. I needed him. But then I remembered all those times he told me I’d never amount to anything, and here I was, broken and bloody, failing him all over again. No one was there for me.”

  Shelby couldn’t help it. She scooted over to his side, and her arms enveloped him. Nick resisted at first. “I’m here for you now, Nick.”

  His wide shoulders finally lost their tension as he relaxed in her tight embrace. He rested his cheek against her hair. “I’m so broken still, Shelby. I can’t believe he’s gone, and I never had a chance to say goodbye. No one told me he was that sick.”

  Tears stung her eyes. “He didn’t want anyone worrying. It wasn’t until it was too late, and he wound up in the hospital, that we realized how sick he was. Silas never said a word about the letters. I’m so sorry, Nick. We didn’t even know you’d been wounded until your lieutenant called. And after you got discharged from the hospital, we couldn’t find you. Silas told me he figured you wanted to be alone.”

  He kept stroking her hair, as if the motion anchored him. “I went through a bad period after I left the hospital, Shel. Even slept on the streets for a while, trying to regain my sense of purpose. If it weren’t for my former teammates, I’d probably be dead by now. My good friend Cooper set me up with a job near Bethesda, and Jarrett got me a set of wheels. He lectured me like a big brother, got my head straightened out.”

  Silently she thanked those friends, and felt a stabbing regret that his own family had let him down. Just as her parents had failed her, Nick’s family hadn’t supported him, either. There were many layers to this man, and she’d unpeeled one of them.