SEAL Forever (15 page)

Maura stared through the glass door at her boyfriend. He was holding vigil in his favorite beat-up chair on the balcony, staring at the ocean. Over the past month, their lovemaking had gone from several times a day to nothing. In her opinion that wasn't optimal, and though she was loath to complain about that fact, she
was
ready to nag him about his complacency. He needed to get out of his groove and leave the apartment.

His Teammates had stopped by to see him, but that didn't seem to change anything. She was so frustrated with him that she wanted to scream. Instead she opened the balcony door and went outside and calmly sat down.

“We need to talk,” she said.

“God, I hate those words. Nothing good comes from that phrase. Can't you start the conversation with something else?” Declan took a long pull from his stout—this one was alcoholic.

She stood up, pulled the bottle away from his lips, and dumped the contents onto the sand. “Things have to change. I'm not going to keep making excuses for you. The coordinator of physical therapy services needs you to schedule your appointments, and you need to get the hell out of here and
go to them
.”

Sitting down in her chair, she heaved a sigh of relief. “So much for not yelling.” She turned her chair toward him. “Listen, I'm not trying to be the bad guy. I support you, and right now you are stuck in limbo. And it needs to change.”

“I know.”

“You know! Then why don't you do anything?”

He scratched his chin. “Because when you're in limbo, there's no rejection. No answers to the questions that could potentially rip your soul out. The more still I am, the safer it is.”

“Seriously?” She could hardly believe her ears.

“Hey! Everyone gets depressed. Haven't I earned that right…to take a little time off from life?” Declan's eyes narrowed and the pulse at his temple throbbed.

“No,” she said flatly. “Life is made up of a series of patterns. Once we
choose
to get in a rut, we stay in a rut. In order to avoid that, you have to fill your life with something. Anything. And your focus is to get better. What happens when you stop working out?”

“Your muscles atrophy,” he said pointedly.

“Yes, and it will take you twice as long to get that movement back. You told me the other day that you were tired of hearing what handi-abled people cannot do. Well, damn it, show the world what you can do.” She stood up. “I'm going to work. I'll be home at seven.”

From inside the apartment, she added, “There's stuff I can show you at the gym, if you're willing. I'll leave the car.” And then she left. She knew from their conversations that most SEALs trained themselves to use both left and right hands and feet, so they were never caught in the lurch if they should become hurt. Declan had boasted of his skill using alternate limbs. Now was the perfect time to gear up.

* * *

Declan watched her walk away from him. He didn't like the feeling, and he hated it even more that she'd just bitched him out and kicked his ass. The truth was…she was right. Gich used to say, “If you don't like something, fucking change it!”

And that was precisely what he was going to do. He could prove to Maura and himself that he had the same gumption inside of him that he'd always had.

Grabbing his crutches, he made his way inside. He called the coordinator of physical therapy and scheduled his appointments, and then headed for the bathroom to shower.

As he passed the mirror, he stared at his reflection. Five days of growth had produced a rather full, dark beard. It wasn't pretty. Picking up his razor, he started clearing the scruff from his face. A bigger question loomed as he lifted his arm and got a whiff of his armpits.
Ugh. When did I shower last?

It was amazing what a shave, shower, and clean clothes—shorts and shirt—did for a person. His place was picked up and he'd eaten a sandwich. The prosthetic he had been fitted with before leaving the hospital was in place. He was healed enough to use it, though didn't want to. There were no more excuses. He was fueled and ready to move. Now he had to apologize to the woman who had had the guts to kick his butt.

He pocketed his wallet and Maura's car keys and headed out to visit the gym. Maybe he'd stop along the way and bring her flowers. Couldn't hurt. They were significantly nicer smelling than he had been.

Declan stood just inside the entrance at the large glass doors and attempted to take in the madness. His eyes adjusted quickly from the bright sunlight to the darker inside, but it was the sight that intrigued him. His eyes widened with delight.

“Miss Max'll. Miss Max'll.” Kids flocked to Maura, grabbing at her for hugs and acknowledgment. She was in her element, pulling kids into her arms, laughing with them. Standing there watching her made him feel so proud of her. Maura was doing something special here.

“Did you bring us a new friend?” asked a little boy wearing a harness and brown leather airplane goggles strapped over his eyes. He pointed at Declan and took a few steps toward him.

The prescription of the glass was strong, making his eyes look huge. “I'm Henry.”

“Declan.” Maura rushed to him.

The kids shouted greetings and attempted to maul him.

“Good manners, boys!” reinforced Maura. “I'm pleased to introduce a new friend to play with. This is Master Chief Declan Swifton. Why don't all of you show Declan your routines?”

“Yay!” they shouted, rushing back into place.

At least three dozen adults helped kids of varying ages and needs climb onto equipment and get hooked into devices. Some children were missing limbs, or hands or feet or ears or eyes, a few children seemed very hyper, but here—in this wonderful place—they were just kids. Perfect in every way they needed to be.

“C'mon!” shouted a little boy, and then he and the others were moving through the most incredibly complex gym circuit Declan had ever seen. It could give the SEALs a run for their athletic prowess.

“What are they doing?” he asked curiously, moving closer and stepping onto the thick mats.

Maura spoke quickly, her excitement evident. “Parkour, a wonderful school of movement. The kids are taking themselves on and over or under obstacles using their bodies and the equipment to propel themselves forward. When I was healing, this is one of the ways I found my strength and my joy in athleticism again.”

All the kids wore harnesses and gloves to help them move swiftly. “Amazing!”

“Yeah. It's like flying.” She turned to face him. “Want to try it?”

“Heck, yeah!” he said and then stopped. He turned to her. “I need gloves.”

She laughed. “I just happen to have a pair in your size in my pocket.”

“You knew I'd come.”

“Mm-hmm. I cannot imagine a Navy SEAL being beached for long. You have too much spirit in you to give up.” She leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him. “I'm glad you're here.”

“Me too.” And he truly was. As she led the way toward the mats, Declan knew he had met his match in Maura Maxwell—a woman who could hold her own going toe-to-toe with him—and he was grateful that
she
was in his life.

* * *

Declan slid into the passenger seat of Maura's car, buckled in, and let out a happy sigh. The afternoon had been one of the best in a long time. It'd felt good to have his heart pumping hard and his lungs straining for air. Granted, he was out of shape and had found himself panting in places, but he'd mostly mastered the course after a few tries. The fact that it was geared toward kids helped, and those angels had been right there with him. A couple of them were far faster than he was. He chalked it up to their proficiency on the course. He'd bet he'd catch them next time.

His prosthetic ached, and he longed to pull it off. He could too. Maura wouldn't care.

“What are you thinking about?” She pulled the car onto the main road and headed for the 5.

“I'm thinking about how to get faster. Those kids are speedy.”

“Really? Well, if you think you're going to beat Tats and Kyle, I hate to burst your bubble, but they keep getting faster too.”

“We'll see.” He shifted in the seat, noticing their surroundings. She'd hopped onto the interstate and was pulling off onto the Coronado Bridge, driving them into Coronado proper. “This isn't the way home.”

“Nope. I'm hungry, and the best way I know to top the word
fun
is with stopping here.” She pulled the car up in front of the gelato shop that was around the corner from McP's Pub.

This was the last place he wanted to be. It made him more uncomfortable than he cared to admit. At least if they went to Danny's, they could eat a decent burger in the intentionally darkened interior. It was easy to be anonymous in there.

“Ready for an icy cold treat?”

No. I'd rather be going inside the pub for a beer than for some sticky sweet concoction.
He'd never had a sweet tooth. He was more of a salt guy.

Looking down, he sighed. He'd prefer wearing pants for his first public adventure. Not that these clothes were going to change people's reaction or his reality.

A finger dug sharply into his ribs. “Move it, Swifton. I'm hungry.”

He looked at Maura. How could he explain? There was just no getting around it. She had revealed herself and her trials to him. Couldn't he suck it up for a twenty-minute ordeal of ice cream? Hadn't he just dealt with a whole room full of kids? So why should it matter what anyone thought now? He muttered under his breath, “It doesn't.”

“What?” she asked, completely oblivious to his internal debate.

“Nothing,” he said in a sullen voice. “Let's go. There's no denying a woman her chocolate.”

“You've got that right,” she said with an overly bright smile.

Dang, is this woman continually chipper or what? It's darn annoying…and pretty admirable too.

He watched her get out of the car, and then he pulled the door handle and hauled himself out. It took a series of small movements, but he was standing, looking at her shapely bottom as she entered the shop.

Slamming the door behind him, he followed her. Maybe they had stout-flavored ice cream.

The door was open, and a small sign that hung from the uppermost point said, “Bring your appetite in, leave your contrition behind.” He stepped inside and felt the cool air immediately slap his face and neck. Keeping his pace going, he didn't stop until he was behind Maura. His eyes scanned the room, assessing, making sure there were no threats, as he usually did.

A tug on his shirt had him looking over his shoulder. Nothing was there.

Looking lower, he saw a young girl with an older one trailing behind her. “Mister. Mister.”

He turned to face her, unsure what to expect.

“Are you a cyborg?”

A smile tugged at his lips. “No.”

“I'm three years old, and she's six.”

“What's your name?” he asked. Where were the parents? These kids had to belong to someone.

“I'm Micki and she's Mary Lou.” The six-year-old joined the younger girl, who was obviously her sister; their faces were practically identical, as was their shiny, wavy hair. “Can you add sparkles to that?” she asked, gesturing to his prosthetic.

“Sparkles?”

“You know,” she said between licks of her ice cream cone. “Fairy dust and wings and pink feathers and…and…maybe some rhinestones to your leg. You need to have lots of diamonds.”

“Ah…” He had no idea how to answer. Shock had frozen his brain.

“What's going on?” Maura leaned around his arm, tugging him slightly off balance, but he held his ground. “Hi.” She grinned at the girls. “Yum. That looks good! What are you eating?”

“Mango,” said the six-year-old. “It's my favorite. Want a lick?”

Declan couldn't hide his smile any longer. “No, thanks. I'm not an ice-cream person.”

“Gelato,” said the three-year-old as she stamped her foot. “I finished mine already. I think you should add tiny baby dolls and stuffed koalas to that. Feathers would look silly on a boy!”

Kids. They are so pure, and that innocence made everyone smile.

“Michelle. Mary Louise. What are you up to?” said a gruff voice from the other side of him.

Coming around them and stepping behind the two girls appeared Rear Admiral Richard King with his wife, Carly. “Swifton, good to see you.” His arm shot out over the heads of the two girls, and the two men shook hands briefly.

“Rear Admiral King, I'd like to present Maura Maxwell.” Here he was in public, with no choice but to deal with the situation. King was a hero in the Teams, a veteran of World War II and a member of the Scouts and Raiders, which were predecessors to SDV (Swimmer Delivery Vehicle), UDT (Underwater Demolition Team), and SEAL Team itself. Listening to the legend talk was like being transported back in time and dropped in the middle of the fight. So many life lessons…and a lot of generosity with that wisdom.

“Richard, please.” The Rear Admiral wrangled the girls, wrapping a large hand around each of their small ones.

“Yes, sir.”

“Nice to meet you, Richard,” said Maura as she stepped up to stand beside Declan. “I think I've met your wife, Carly. She came in last week looking at programs for…these little ladies, I believe.”

“Great-Grandpa, I want more,” said the three-year-old, tugging on his hand.

“You've had two flavors and that's the limit, right, Declan?” said the Rear Admiral.

“Yes.” Declan nodded in automatic agreement. “Though…I haven't had my flavors. Maybe they could split them.”

“Yes! Yes!” shouted the girls as the Rear Admiral rolled his eyes.

“Come on then. Let's get in line. Swifton here is going to help you girls pick them.”