SEALs of Honor: Baylor

by Dale Mayer

  She sagged back down on the bed and placed her face in her hands and just nodded. “I don’t know what happened,” she said. “I woke up, just as if—” She stopped and shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe it was a nightmare. Then I tried to stand and run, and it was just like the room spun around on me.”

  “Okay, well, just take it easy,” he said. “It’s probably fine, but you’re still feeling the effects of the drugs.”

  She looked up and around at the room shrouded in darkness. “What time is it?”

  “Just after midnight,” he murmured, gently stroking her back. She could feel the sweat on her back as his hand moved up and down. “I guess I was having a nightmare,” she said. “I’m totally soaked with sweat.”

  “Do you want to shower?”

  She considered it and sighed. “Well, I’d feel better,” she said, “but it seems like an awful lot of effort right now.”

  “Then wait till morning,” he said, “unless it will help you get to sleep again.”

  She looked at him, as she considered it, then frowned. “Haven’t you been to bed yet?”

  He just grinned. “Nope. I just got back.”

  “Back from where?” She stared at him, as memories swam into her head. “What did you find?”

  “Did I say I found anything?”

  She snorted at that. “I’m not a fool. You seem way too happy.”

  “It’s not that I’m happy,” he said, “but the guy who attacked and threatened you is dead.”

  She stared at him, her mouth dropping. In a whisper, she asked, “Did you kill him?”

  He shook his head gently. “No,” he said. “I didn’t have to. Somebody else did.”

  “Wow,” she said in shock. “I knew he was an asshole. I guess it makes sense that somebody else would have gotten pissed off at him.”

  “Guys like that cultivate the wrong people,” he said. “Water finds its own depth, and, in this case, I don’t know if it was because he failed or because he was off doing his own thing, but I found his body in a back alley.”

  “You found it on your own?” She was trying to process what he said, but her mind was still murky. “What were you doing out there anyway?”

  “While we were screening camera footage, we tracked one guy, presumably a Russian who hired your kidnappers, and saw him disappear into one area, which looked like apartments, and then into another warehouse area, but we never could pick him up coming out again. So I went to the apartment building, and, while I was out, I found somebody else—probably a middleman in this scenario—that I ended up playing a bit of a cat-and-mouse game with,” he said calmly. “As it turned out, I headed back to the warehouse area where this Russian guy had disappeared, and me and my new friend found your pervert’s dead body instead.”

  “So your new friend didn’t kill him either?”

  “Not from what I could tell. Unless he doubled back around to make it look like it wasn’t him.”

  “I don’t trust anybody anymore,” she said. “It could have been him. It could have been anybody.”

  “Exactly,” he said cheerfully. “The bottom line is that your perv’s not coming after you now.”

  “And this other guy you met?”

  “The jury is still out on him,” he said. “We’re not exactly sure what he was up to.”

  “Why he was there, you mean?”

  “Why he was there, why he was looking for this guy, and what he was planning on doing when he found him.”

  “Do we care what he was planning on doing when he found him?”

  “I’m not sure, do you?”

  “I’m not sure,” she whispered. “It just seems like all of this is such a mess.” As the news slowly filtered through her brain, she asked, “Do you think I’m safe now then?”

  He gave her a half smile. “If we knew why he was killed, maybe.”

  She glared at him. “Sounds like you’re just looking for excuses to not let me go back home.’

  “Not at all,” he said, and there was enough sincerity in his voice that she relaxed. “But I do think we need to be sure we don’t just take it at face value and just assume you’re out of danger.”

  “Do you think the people who went after my father are still involved?” she asked.

  “I wouldn’t be at all surprised,” he said. “If you think about it, he’s even more vulnerable right now at the hospital.”

  She shook her head. “How are they?”

  “Your father is deteriorating,” he said gently.

  Her gaze widened, as she assimilated the words, almost like a blow. “I need to go to the hospital then,” she said immediately.

  “And I can pave the way, if that’s what you want,” he said.

  She nodded, swung her legs around the side of the bed, and stood. A little more secure than last time, she said, “I’ll just use the bathroom, and then we can go.” After she used the facilities, she washed her face, trying to clear her head. Her father’s deteriorating condition wasn’t something she really wanted to deal with right now. She was a confused bag of emotions over his actions and subsequent reconciliation with her mom. The thought that her mom could be dying was something she couldn’t deal with either. With her arms wrapped around her chest, she stepped back out. “Can we just go now?”

  He nodded slowly. “Sure, but he might be asleep.”

  “That’s fine,” she said. “I still need to see him, just in case. I need to see him,” she reiterated.

  He studied her features for a long moment, and then, with a soft smile, he said, “Fine. Let’s go.”

  She followed him out of the apartment and down to a vehicle that was already running, unsurprised to see Hudson in the driver’s seat. She slipped into the back as usual and watched as the city blocks swept by. “He didn’t seem to be that badly hurt.”

  “No, but apparently he has a bad heart. The doctors didn’t find that out until now.”

  “So are you saying he’s had a heart attack?”

  “Yes, something about closed arteries in his heart and some kind of constriction.”

  Once at the hospital, she raced inside to ask where her father was. When she felt a warm steadying hand on her shoulder, she realized that information was something Baylor had already sourced. She grabbed his hand, and, with their fingers linked, he turned to lead her down the hallway, after giving the receptionist a smile.

  “We know where we’re going, thank you.”

  As soon as they turned one corner and then on to the next, he led her to a small room, where she stepped inside to see her mother curled up on a chair next to the bed. Her father was either asleep or in a coma beside her. Gizella walked over to her mom and whispered, “Mom?”

  Her mom opened her eyes sleepily, then saw her daughter and bolted to her feet, throwing her arms around her neck. “Oh, Gizella, I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered.

  “I came as soon as I realized he was struggling,” she said. “I thought it was a simple wound.”

  “Yes, but then there were some problems with his heart. Apparently it’s all been too much for his heart, and, honey, I don’t think he’ll make it,” she said, sobbing quietly. Gizella pulled up the second chair Baylor slid over and sat down, easing her mom back into her own chair. “I’m so sorry, Mom.”

  Her mother just sobbed gently. “I should never have come on this trip,” she said. “I don’t know. It was just such a foolish thought.”

  “What? To celebrate the end of chemo?” She didn’t understand what her mom was so upset about.

  Looking up at her, dry-eyed, her mother gave her a small smile and said, “Well, we’ll talk about that later.”

  Gizella tilted her head, looked at her, and said, “What do you mean? What aren’t you telling me, Mom?”

  Baylor placed a steady hand on her mother’s shoulder.

  Her mother looked at him and said, “You can’t possibly know.”

  “Of course I know,” he said. “There’s only one reason w
hy you wouldn’t let the EMTs in the ambulance or the emergency room crews check you over.”

  She just frowned at him. “That’s not fair,” she said.

  “Maybe, but you’re not doing your daughter any service by holding it back.”

  “This isn’t the time,” her mom said stiffly.

  “When then? So she can deal with two bodies later?”

  At that, her frown deepened, and she looked unsteadily over at her daughter.

  Gizella stared at her mom in shock. “I think somebody better tell me what’s going on right now,” Gizella said in an ominous tone. “I’ve had enough shocks for quite a while.”

  “It’s not so much a shock,” her mother said. “It’s more like an inevitability.”

  Not understanding, she looked at her, frowning. “Please, Mom, nothing cryptic. What’s going on?” She took a deep breath and then gave her mom a hug. “I’ll still love you regardless, so please just tell me the truth.”

  With a wince, her mother said, “It’s just that you won’t love me for all that much longer.”

  Gizella sat back and stared at her in shock. “Wait. I don’t understand.” She looked up at Baylor.

  He squatted beside her and said, “This wasn’t a holiday trip celebrating the end of chemo. It was so you’d all have one last holiday together because there’s nothing else they can do for her. Your mom can’t undergo any more treatments, and the cancer is not going away.”

  He looked to her mother for confirmation, and she nodded slowly, her gaze on Gizella, who felt the news slam against her heart.

  “I wondered,” she said. “There’s been an almost forced happiness to your voice, as if it were fake.”

  “Well, not so much fake,” she said, “but it’s been hard news to deal with.”

  “Of course it is, but why didn’t you tell me the truth?” she asked, as she stared at her mom uncomprehendingly. “Surely it wasn’t such a hard thing to do.”

  “I didn’t want to acknowledge it,” she said quietly. “By voicing that truth to you and whoever else, it just made it all the more real, and I wasn’t ready for that.”

  Gizella nodded slowly, feeling the tears choke the back of her throat, but she didn’t dare let her mother know how upset she was. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She looked over at her father. “Did you tell him?”

  She nodded. “I did, but it was mostly in an argument though.”

  “Ouch,” she said.

  “Right. Hardly the best way to do it, I know. But I was mad and upset that he wanted to get back together again, and I just wasn’t ready for it.”

  “But you’ve been together for these last few years. I don’t understand.”

  “Well, yes and no,” she said.

  At that Gizella sat back and stared. “Oh, my God. Has he been playing around that whole time he was supposedly with you?”

  “Let’s just say that we didn’t make any commitment these last couple years, and then recently he really wanted to, and I wouldn’t.”

  “Well, it would have been interesting to have seen his reaction to that.”

  “It wasn’t very much fun,” she said, with a laugh. “He didn’t think much of having the tables turned.”

  “And then when you found out?”

  “When I found out, I realized I was on a short time frame and really wanted to spend it with the people I loved, and, despite everything, I still love him.”

  “So then you said yes?”

  “Yes, and it was more or less a chance for us to get to know each other again.”

  “But you told him that you were dying?”

  “Yes, but he honored my wish to not tell you.”

  “That’s the part I don’t understand,” she said. “So here I am, just beginning to feel relief after the chemo and realizing that it’s all good, and we’ll have years together with you feeling healthy again, only to find out that you’re dying a little more every day, and, instead of allowing me an opportunity to make the most of that,” she said, “you’ve kept me blissfully ignorant.”

  “Yes,” she said, “and that was my choice, not your father’s.”

  Gizella shook her head as she stared out the window. “I’m not even sure I understand how it matters one way or the other,” she said, “but it’s definitely a shock right now, particularly given Dad’s situation.”

  “I did not expect to outlive him,” her mother said bluntly, “and I would do anything to make sure I went first.”

  “Wow,” she said. “This is just—” Her words stopped, and she didn’t even know what to say. She looked up at Baylor. “But you knew?”

  “No, I didn’t, but I suspected, as I mentioned to you,” he said, “and, if you’d had a chance to even think about it, without everything else you’ve been dealing with, you would have seen it too.”

  She shook her head. “Here in these few days, sure, but before that is another story,” she said. “Obviously I haven’t been very attentive.”

  “That’s because you’ve been busy living and mixed up with other feelings.”

  She snorted. “Meaning that I’ve been too blind to see what was right in front of me.”

  “Well, if you want to look at it that way, you can, but you sure don’t have to,” he said calmly. “A lot has been going on in your world, including a lot of mixed emotions,” he said. “Just leave it at that. Beating yourself up over it won’t help.”

  She nodded slowly. “If I can, I will,” she said. “Because, right now, there’s more than enough to deal with, without adding more.”

  “Exactly,” he said, “and right now it’s your father.”

  She got up on that note and walked over and picked up her father’s hand. There was absolutely no response. No fingers moving or shifting, his hand just a dead weight. She reached up and placed two fingers against his neck. He was breathing, but it was shallow and not easy, and the pulse was very faint. She hitched up to half sit on the bed and to just stare down at him.,

  She felt the emotions course through her from the days of her father being her absolute idol, kept on a pedestal all these years, to the clay version of the all-too-human man who fell to his crashing demise with his cheating—and then her anger and confusion after she had watched her parents get together again. She was happy that he at least had come to realize that it was her mother that he loved. But how unbelievable that it now appeared that both of them were likely to go.

  She turned, looked at her mom, and asked, “How long?” She didn’t even know what to say to her mom. Her heart was just breaking for her father, and to find out her mother was dying, after all they’d been through, was just too much.

  Her mother gave her a sad smile and said, “They said less than three months.”

  She stared at her in shock. “Ninety days?”

  “Well, that was almost four weeks ago now,” she said.

  She closed her eyes and said, “Wow. How are you feeling?” she asked, her eyelids flying open, as she studied her mother’s color and general fatigue. It was so hard to know her mother’s state, when she was so wrecked with worry over her father on top of it.

  “Oh, you know,” she said. “I can feel it getting worse, but I also know that there’ll be an end date, so I’m determined to enjoy what I can.”

  Gizella smiled. “That sounds so much like you,” she said warmly. She looked over at her father and said, “And what about him?”

  A kerfuffle came at the door just then. Her mom hopped to her feet as the doctor came in. The two conversed, while Gizella and Baylor stood off to the side.

  She turned to look at her daughter and said, “He’s dying, honey. I’m sorry,” she said. And they just melted into each other’s arms.

  “Meaning, he may not see the night?” She looked over at the doctor for confirmation, and he nodded.

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  She took a long deep breath. “I’m glad I came then.” She looked at Baylor and smiled. “Thank you.”

 
; He nodded. “Sometimes what we really want can change, when we find out how different a situation is.”

  “Meaning, I wouldn’t have come if I hadn’t realized he might be dying. Well, not far off,” she said. “And you’re also right in that it changes everything, now that I know he is going.” She sighed heavily. “There isn’t time to make up for all the stuff that I held against him. There isn’t time to forgive him. Just no time for anything,” she said. “Not even crying for you or him,” she said, looking back at her mother.

  Her mother smiled. “You know what? It’s funny, but, since I know he’s dying too,” she said, “I’m at peace with going myself.”

  Gizella shook her head, speechless. “How is that possible?”

  “Because we’ve had a good life, and most married couples who love each other are quite happy to go together. I’ve seen this as some of our older friends have gone.”

  Gizella frowned, as she stared down at her father’s hand. A good life? Of course she wanted to protest the fact that she would still be alive, and they would be leaving her. But that was often a complaint with children, despite the circumstances. “What if I’m not ready?” she asked softly.

  “I think that, this time,” her mom said gently, “you can’t do anything about it.”

  Gizella nodded quietly, as she stared out the window beside her father’s bed. She’d done everything she could to help her mom get through the chemo, to beat this, and to actually be one of the survivors and not one of the statistics. And now, here she was, right back at the same gate again. And even more powerless, more incapable of doing anything to help her mom. “It’s just so sad,” Gizella said. “We fought so hard.”

  “And sometimes,” she said, “it’s just meant to be.”

  “I don’t think that’s fair either,” she said.

  At that, her mom burst out laughing. “You’ve always hated injustice, particularly when it was turned your way,” she said affectionately.

  She gave her mom a lopsided grin. “You know it’s no different now.”

  “I know,” she said, with a bright smile, “and I’m happy to see that you’ll keep on the good fight, no matter what it is.”

  Gizella shrugged. “What a shitty way for all this to come about.”