Better Late Than Never

by Diva D. Wood

  “Yes. Seriously.”

  “Hold that thought. I’ll be right back. Potty break.” She rose unsteadily from the couch and uneasily made her way down the hall to the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind her.

  Chapter 28

  Landon exhaled and rubbed his temples as he tried to think what he could possibly tell Danita that would placate her.

  He figured he had about five to ten minutes to come up with something.

  But as was often the case, he figured wrong. Within about ninety seconds, Danita was back on the couch.

  “I’m back,” she announced.

  “I see that,” Landon said with a weak smile, hoping he could charm his way out of the corner he’d obviously painted himself into when he agreed to come over.

  That didn’t end well for him either.

  “So?” Danita inquired.

  “So, what?”

  She downed another long sip of wine. “Did my Joe suffer?”

  Landon measured his words carefully. “No. It was over in a minute.”

  Danita absorbed this information with a nod, her lower lip trembling. She forged ahead with another question. “Was there anything that could have been done to save him?”

  Landon knew a quick answer was the best option here. “No. His wound was too severe.”

  Again Danita nodded, took another long sip of her wine. She looked down at the floor for an agonizing moment. “One final question, Landon, and then I’ll let you off the hook on this topic forever. I promise.”

  Landon smiled, not sure whether he believed that or not. “Go for it, Danita.”

  “Was it worth it?”

  “Was what worth it?”

  “The mission. Was it worth Joe’s life?”

  Fuck me. She sure saved the best for last, didn’t she? “That assessment is above my pay grade,” he said.

  “Bullshit!” Danita exploded, throwing her empty wine glass at the wall, where it shattered into pieces. She followed it with the still half-full bottle.

  Landon was startled. “Calm down, Danita. Don’t do this,” he said, holding out both hands and trying his best to effect a soothing tone.

  “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want to do in my own Goddamn house!” she screamed. “I want your opinion. Was the outcome of this fucking top-secret mission worth Joe dying?”

  Landon exhaled and lowered his arms. “I know you’re pissed, Danita, and I know you need answers. But I’m not the one to give them to you. And frankly, no SEAL can do his job effectively if he lets himself even ask those questions, let alone try to answer them.”

  Danita smiled, utter exhaustion on her face. Landon hoped the smile meant that she was going to live up to her promise and that he was truly off the hook.

  For once, his hopes were fulfilled as Danita appeared to be reading his tortured mind. “All right, Landon. You’re off the hook. I’m a woman of my word.”

  Thank God for small favors, Landon thought.

  “I’m going to take my drunk, grieving, pissed-off black ass to bed,” Danita said. “Do you mind staying here tonight? On the couch, of course,” she emphasized.

  Every instinct in Landon’s body told him to respectfully decline and get the hell out of there. But he knew that wasn’t possible. His friend needed him.

  He nodded with a knowing smile. “You’ve got it, my friend. I know where the pillows and blankets are. I’ll make myself comfortable.”

  “Thanks,” Danita said, embracing Landon tightly. “Love you, my friend. Thanks for being here for me.”

  “Love you too, Danita. Always.”

  Danita smiled as she padded down the hallway to her bedroom, closing it softly behind her.

  Landon exhaled as he quietly made his way down the hall to the linen closet. He extracted an oversized pillow and a soft fleece blanket.

  It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter 29

  One week later

  “The admiral will see you now,” a secretary announced, breaking Landon out of his reverie.

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Landon placed his hat under his left arm as he entered the office of Admiral Glenn Rogers, commanding officer of Special Operations Command.

  Rogers was on the phone as Landon entered, but acknowledged his presence with a curt nod. Landon stood at attention until Rogers, still talking, rolled his eyes and motioned for him to have a seat.

  Rogers ended the call and smiled warmly at Landon. “Lieutenant Stone. Thank you for coming. How was your flight?”

  “Fine, sir,” Landon replied. He usually hated bullshit small talk, and today was no exception. Get on with it, he thought ruefully.

  “Lieutenant Stone, let me start off this morning by putting you at ease,” Rogers began. “This is not a disciplinary meeting. I know an abrupt, cryptic order to report to Washington to see the commander of special operations may have appeared as such. I apologize for any additional anxiety my order may have caused you.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “On the contrary,” Rogers continued. “This meeting is about your future in the Navy. Or, to be more precise, your future after the Navy.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t follow, sir.”

  Rogers leaned back in his chair and smiled again. “Keep listening, son. I promise this is going somewhere you’ll like. Humor an old man for a few minutes, okay?”

  Landon smiled, feeling a bit relieved but still apprehensive. “Thank you, sir. Yes, sir.”

  Rogers opened a red-bordered folder marked Top Secret and studied its contents for several long, agonizing moments. Finally, he closed it, put it back on his desk, and spoke. “First of all, Lieutenant Stone, you have been nominated for a Medal of Honor.”

  Landon’s eyes went wide. “For what, sir?”

  “For your actions of 14 July,” Rogers said. “For personally killing five enemy combatants and pulling Petty Officer Third Class Ramon Martinez out of the line of fire at great personal risk to yourself.”

  “With all due respect, sir, there was no time to think about the risk to myself,” Landon protested. “Petty Officer Martinez was wounded, and I did my job, just as I was trained, and just as thousands of other SEALs have done for more than fifty years. I didn’t do anything any one of my teammates wouldn’t have done.”

  “Exactly,” Rogers said with a firm nod. “But your actions exemplify the best of what America expects of its armed forces. And once in a great while, those actions come to the attention of folks higher up in the chain of command who wish to reward and promote them. I expect you to be invited to the White House for a special ceremony at some point in the very near future, so I respectfully suggest you start wrapping your head around the idea.”

  “Yes sir,” Landon said. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

  “Of course, Lieutenant Stone.”

  “If anyone should be receiving the Medal of Honor out of that clusterfuck of a mission, sir, it should be Joe Mawhorter,” Landon said, trying to control the emotion in his voice and maintain his composure in the presence of a senior officer. “He stepped in front of a bullet that was intended for me. He laid down his life in the service of his country. I’m still here because he’s not here, sir. Joe deserves that medal, not me.”

  “I agree with the first part of your statement,” Rogers said with a nod. “Lieutenant Mawhorter has been nominated for the Medal of Honor also. Posthumously, of course.”

  Landon nodded his approval. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  “You’re welcome, Lieutenant Stone.” Rogers leaned back in his chair, which rocked gently back and forth.

  Creak, squeak. Creak, squeak.

  Rogers’s expression turned serious. “Speaking of the events of 14 July, Lieutenant Stone—the death of Lieutenant Mawhorter was not your fault.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Yes, sir, it was; yes, sir, you agree with me; or yes, sir, you’re blowing sunshine up my ass?”

  Landon smiled.

  Rogers shook his
head. “You need to let it go, son. It will eat you alive. Trust me on this. I was in the Teams in Vietnam, and our platoon lost half its members on an op once. It nearly derailed my career. Don’t let that happen to you, Lieutenant Stone. You need to be able to move on to life after the Navy.”

  “Yes, sir. Someday, sir.”

  “Someday soon, Lieutenant.”

  “What do you mean, sir?”

  Rogers passed a document across the table. Landon studied it intently. “This is a retirement request, sir.”

  “I can see why you were top five in your class at Annapolis, Lieutenant Stone,” Rogers said with just a touch of sarcasm. “That’s affirmative.”

  “But I’m not planning on retiring yet, sir.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “I am?”

  “Yes,” Rogers said, a wide smile forming on his face. “You’ve fought the good fight and defended your country for nearly twenty-five years. There’s something waiting out there for you, Landon. It’s time for you to embrace it. And some things have been set in motion to do just that.”

  Landon was silent, not knowing whether to say anything.

  Rogers opened a file folder. “Lieutenant Mawhorter spent the last few months of his life plotting what I can best describe as an exit strategy…for both of you.”

  Landon nodded.

  Rogers continued, “He had made contact with several outside entities getting things lined up for your post-Navy lives. Sadly, he’s not here to see those plans through. But you are, young man.”

  Landon was trying to keep his emotions in check. “Yes, sir.”

  Rogers handed Landon a piece of paper. “When you return home to San Diego, you will begin the process of separating from the Navy. Your days as a SEAL are over, Lieutenant Stone.”

  Landon was stunned. The Navy had been his life for more than twenty-five years. What was he going to do now?

  Before he even realized it, Landon voiced the thought. “What am I going to do now, sir?”

  Rogers smiled. “When you get home, you will make contact with Dr. Margarita Torres, principal at Castle Park High School. I understand you have some familiarity with this educational institution?”

  “Affirmative, sir,” Landon replied. “It’s my alma mater. And Joe’s as well.”

  “Dr. Torres will have more details for you. But in a few weeks, you will prepare for the next phase of your life as a high school journalism teacher. This will involve a couple of years in an alternative certification program that will give you a secondary school teaching credential.”

  Whoa, Landon thought. “Really, sir?”

  “Really, Lieutenant,” Rogers said. “When football practice starts, you will report to Head Coach Kip Korlep for your supplemental duties as an assistant football coach. Wide receivers, I believe.”

  Landon smiled, shaking his head. “Yes, sir.”

  “Your summers, when you’re not busy with offseason workouts and such, will be spent at NAB Coronado as a SEAL instructor. Does this idea appeal to you, Lieutenant Stone?”

  “It does, sir. Greatly.”

  “We figure it isn’t every day a BUD/S class can hear from a living Medal of Honor recipient.”

  “Right, sir.”

  Rogers smiled. “There is really no such thing as an ex-SEAL, Landon. You’re part of a very elite, close-knit and special community, and that will never change. The Teams have been your family for many years, and they will continue to be, just on a different level. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  Rogers stood up and offered his hand. “Good luck to you, Lieutenant Stone. I’m proud to have had you serve in my command. Good luck in your future endeavors. Hooyah!” He saluted the junior officer.

  “Hooyah, sir!” Landon saluted back, the smile on his face getting bigger. He about-faced and exited the room.

  Chapter 30

  Landon’s thoughts were a jumbled mess as he attempted to navigate his way out of the five-sided labyrinth known to the world as the Pentagon.

  He had arrived in Washington anxious about the future, feeling adrift, alone—out to sea with no port on the horizon.

  He was going home with a future and a purpose, one that had apparently been mapped out for him in advance.

  As Landon made his way down one of the many long, snaking hallways of the nerve center of America’s defense establishment, a familiar face approached. The smiling figure motioned to Landon.

  “Lieutenant Stone! Been a long time, young man.”

  Landon smiled. “It sure has, Chief—err, Admiral Badour.”

  Badour smiled back. “I heard you were in town today, so I arranged to accidentally on purpose run into you on your way out.”

  Landon laughed, shaking his head bemusedly. “How much do you know about all this, Admiral?”

  “Everything. I may be convinced to divulge the details if you can be persuaded to let me buy you lunch.”

  “Works for me, Admiral Badour,” Landon said. “I have a couple of hours to kill before my flight home this afternoon.”

  “Anything in particular you have a craving for?”

  “Actually, I’d like to go to Five Guys,” Landon said. “I haven’t been there in forever.”

  Badour laughed. “You’re a cheap date, Landon. Five Guys it is. What time is your flight home?”

  “1600.”

  Badour glanced at his watch. “It’s 1200 now. Plenty of time. Let’s roll.”

  The Arlington, Virginia Five Guys was well into its lunch rush when Landon and Badour arrived at 1230 hours.

  The two men blended right in with the crowd, which was thick with military personnel from the variety of area installations. Landon ordered his favorite meal, a double cheeseburger and large fry. Badour had the same.

  The two Navy officers ate in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Badour looked up from his food. “I’m sorry about your loss, Lieutenant. I know how close you guys were.”

  “Thanks, Admiral Badour,” Landon said, wiping away a tear. “He was a great guy on pretty much every level you can imagine. We miss him every second of every minute of every hour of every day.”

  “I can just imagine,” Badour said. “I’ve lost too many buddies to count over the years. Grenada, Panama, Afghanistan, Iraq. And those are just the missions I can tell you about.”

  Landon smiled. “Same here, Admiral Badour. The classified stories are always the better ones. Joe and I lost our share of buddies over the years too. You always leave a piece of yourself on the battlefield with them.”

  “This is different, though, Landon. I know it.”

  “It is.” Landon was fighting back tears again. He bit his lower lip and looked away.

  Badour shifted gears. “I’m on the Medal of Honor committee that will be evaluating you and Joe’s applications. It’s a long, arduous process that will take at least eighteen months. But I think both of you are going to be slam-dunks. Especially you. Presidents like being able to hang that sash around the neck of a living recipient.”

  Landon smiled. He was more accustomed to hearing football metaphors, since he’d just been a role player on the Castle Park basketball team.

  And truth be told, he wasn’t getting any more comfortable with this whole Medal of Honor business. But he was beginning to resign himself to the idea.

  “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

  Badour rolled his eyes. “We’re off duty. We’re at lunch. As far as I’m concerned, we left bullshit military protocol behind at the Pentagon. And even if we hadn’t, if anyone’s earned the right to speak freely, it’s you. What’s on your mind, son?”

  Landon smiled sheepishly. “I just don’t know how I feel about the whole Medal of Honor thing.”

  “Understandable.”

  “It’s not going to bring Joe back.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Or make me whole again.”

  “Also agreed.”

  “But I guess there’s nothing I ca
n do about it,” Landon said with a sigh.

  Badour smiled. “You make it sound like a trip to the dentist. It’s the highest honor our country can bestow for valor on the battlefield.”

  “Oh, I know,” Landon said, backpedaling furiously. “I’m sorry, Admiral Badour. I don’t want to seem petty or ungrateful. I’ve just never been someone who is comfortable being in the spotlight.”

  “I suggest you get comfortable with it, young man,” Badour said. “You’ll be joining an elite club with a very high initiation fee.”

  Landon nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Badour smiled. “That’s more like it, Lieutenant.” He glanced at his watch. “We’d better head out, Lieutenant Stone. We’ve got a couple of stops to make before I drop you off at Dulles.”

  “Not necessary, Admiral Badour,” Landon protested. “I took a cab to the Pentagon. I can take another one to the airport.”

  “Negative, Lieutenant,” Badour said. “You’re unofficially a civilian now. Your attire for your flight home to San Diego should reflect that new reality.”

  Landon could tell resistance was futile. It was a familiar but still uncomfortable position to be in. “Okay, Admiral Badour. What did you have in mind?”

  “All information will be provided to you on a need-to-know basis, Lieutenant Stone,” Badour said, a twinkle in his eye. “When you need to know, I’ll tell you.”

  * * * *

  An hour later, after a stop at an Arlington-area Banana Republic for what Badour referred to as ‘San Diego gear’, the two men were on the Beltway headed for Dulles International Airport.

  Badour was silent for most of the drive. But as the career Navy SEAL officer maneuvered his vehicle onto the Dulles airport property, he spoke. “Lieutenant Stone, I hope you’ll indulge an old man a bit of unsolicited advice.”

  “Of course, Admiral Badour.”

  Badour exhaled. “As I said a while ago, I’ve been in your shoes, Lieutenant. I’ve lost buddies in combat. It sucks. There’s no way to sugarcoat it. You’ll spend the rest of your life wondering why you made it and they didn’t. Survivor’s guilt is real, and it sucks.”

  Landon nodded, staring out the window, blinking back tears and biting his lower lip.