Hard Corps (Selected Sinners MC #7) (28 page)

JAK.
A short marriage early in my military career didn’t prohibit me from trusting women, but it had prevented me from actively pursuing them afterward. Due to long periods of time away from home during deployments, to be a wife of a Navy SEAL was difficult and required an extremely independent woman. Although I believed her to be capable of loyalty during my time away, I was incorrect.

A surprise visit to the United States ended up being just that.
A big surprise
. Her repeated attempts to lure me away from the home as soon as I had arrived raised doubt, but the breathing I heard from our bedroom was the dead giveaway. After pulling him from the closet and beating him senseless, I left. Feeling foolish for having made the decision to allow myself to feel emotion in the first place, I promptly filed for a divorce. Incapable of devoting one hundred percent mentally and emotionally to the SEAL missions which immediately followed convinced me a Navy SEAL had no business in any form of relationship or feeling any degree of attachment to a woman whatsoever.

I should have listened when they warned me.

If your SEAL Team wanted you to have a wife, they would have issued you one.

With the military now behind me and feeling as if my emotional nerve endings were exposed to Karter, I could see no real risk. If things between us did not work out, I only subjected myself to harm. Proceeding along this path with her did not place the military, my teammates, or the mission at risk - only me. My emotional progress was instrumental to my success as a civilian. Beginning my new life in a different city and including a woman and the associated emotions would be typical. Naturally, we migrate toward members of the opposite sex. Seeking what we are unable to achieve alone, we hope for compassion, understanding, loyalty, and love.

I found it to be extremely rewarding being in Karter’s presence. Something about her allowed me to immediately become relaxed. I felt comfortable with her. I was warned in my briefing prior to retirement I may feel depressed and uneasy, and to seek mental health at the Veteran’s Administration if necessary. With Karter, my feeling was the exact opposite. I felt different than I had ever felt in the presence of anyone. In actuality, she scared me.

Graduating high school and immediately spending more than twenty years in the military left me no time to live a common life or deal with typical emotions. To become effective in combat, a SEAL must be able to turn off emotional attachments. Therefore, I had zero experience in feeling emotion and acting upon it. My entire military career was spent without sentiment. I had been a stone-faced killer for almost two decades. To think a person could change from being a trained killer on Friday to compassionate civilian on Monday would be ludicrous.

Based on my lack of experience on allowing myself to feel or act upon emotions, I now felt as if I was now a thirty-eight year old high school kid. I couldn’t decide if Karter was filling a void as an individual or by the mere design of simply being a woman. Would I have been attracted to
any
woman who exposed herself to me, or was Karter truly special? Finding the answer on an absolute level would be impossible. I knew one thing for certain; Karter caused me to feel emotion. As I stood beside the running track at a local high school, I felt as if I couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t the three miles I had run which had me breathless.

It was Karter’s absence.

I didn’t
want
to see her.

I felt I
needed
to.

Not necessarily feeling uneasy, but feeling differently than I was accustomed to, I recalled my discussion with Commander Warrenson on my last day in the Navy.

“For the last twenty years, you’ve been told what to do - when to eat, what to eat, where to go and where not to go. You’ve lived your respective life against the clock; one split-second separates life from death on a mission. You’re no longer on a mission. Kennedy. My best advice is this; enjoy doing whatever you want whenever you want. Open up emotionally, and allow yourself to feel. You’re going to be free when you leave here, and you’ve paid a high price for it. Enjoy it.”

Instinctively I glanced at my watch.

He shook his head and did his best to smile.

“Here in about two minutes, you’ll no longer be Kennedy. You’ll leave here as Jak,” he looked up at the clock on the wall.

As the minute hand snapped into position, he smiled, “Lose your watch and enjoy life, Jak.”

I stretched my legs and began walking to the small maintenance building between the track and the school. As soon as I arrived in town, I looked for a private place to run. The new high school north of the city seemed a logical place, as it was somewhat secluded and school was out for the summer. In my initial survey of the facility, an elderly maintenance man approached me on a golf cart. Although his black skin made it difficult at first, my attentive nature allowed me to notice the outline of a tattoo on his forearm - an eagle, globe, and anchor. He was a former Marine, and in a sense, a military brother. Without reservation, he gave me permission to run on the track for the summer months during the school’s recess from classes. Generations separated us, but we would always have the common bond of war and the recovery associated with attempting to become human again. As I walked around the corner of the building, I noticed the door to the building was open. Before I stepped into the opening, his voice echoed through the small concrete facility.

“How many miles this morning, Jak?”

I stepped remaining distance to the doorway and walked inside, “Your old ears work well, Oscar. I ran three. I couldn’t stay focused, so I stopped. How’s your day progressing?”

He turned from the work bench, revealing a disassembled pump on the table in front of him, “We’re gonna get off to a fucked up start young man, you keep calling me old. And I couldn’t be any better unless I was twins. What’s on your mind?”

Oscar was somewhere close to seventy years old, bald, and still resembled the Marine he once was. Marines claim once they’re a Marine they’re always a Marine, and Oscar was certainly no exception. He seemed to be in great health, and appeared to be very physically fit. Short of his own admittance of his age and the grey goatee beard he wore, I would have never guessed him to be seventy years old.

I grinned and responded, “I’ve got one quick question, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

He walked to the golf cart and sat on the edge of the fender, “I know you ain’t a dumb man Jak, so I’m gonna go on and just guess you’s blind. I ain’t got no hair. What’s ailin’ ya?”

“When you got back, how long was it before you were in a relationship?”

He looked up at the ceiling as if recalling past memories and smiled. As he leaned away from the golf cart and slowly walked my direction, he began to chuckle, “Hell Jak, I was married when I left for Viet Nam. I had a young ‘un. I was twenty-eight when I got shot in 1969. And when I got back I went home and tried to act like nothin’ happened. Now what’s really ailin’ ya?”

“I met a girl,” I sighed.

“I sure don’t see that as a
problem
. Sounds like the man upstairs might be lookin’ after ya,” he grinned and pointed his index finger in the air.

I nodded my head, “Thanks Oscar. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He pressed his hands into his hips and widened his eyes, “Hold up, lightnin’. That’s what’s wrong with your generation. You’re always in a damned hurry. So, you met a girl. What’s troublin’ ya about it?”

Feeling somewhat embarrassed, I responded truthfully, “I already feel as if I
need
her. It’s almost like I’ve known her for years, but we just met.”

He leaned into the fender of the golf cart and grinned, “Ain’t no shame in that, Jak. Now, you scared you’re gonna fuck it up or are you thinkin’ she’s gonna hurt ya? Which one?”

I rocked back and forth on my aching calves. I thought about what he asked. I really didn’t know the answer. I wasn’t sure it was either I was afraid of. More accurately, I feared what I felt was an unnatural attraction based on the amount of time I had known Karter. I opted to respond with a brief but accurate answer.

I bent down, touched my toes, and responded as I stood, “I’m afraid it’s too early for me to feel like this.”

“Too early? Shit, feelin’s ain’t got a time clock, Jak. An’ if you’re worried about
you
, lemme tell ya somethin’. I was over there a little better’n two years. Two years of hell, fo’ sho’. When I come back, I was like a dried out sponge. I sucked up everything what got close to me. Sights, sounds, food, feelin’s - I just sucked ‘em up,” he leaned forward and stood from the golf cart’s fender as he began to laugh.

“I was prob’ly back a week at the time. I walked up to this tree and for some reason I just stared at it. I looked up in it and I remember smilin’. She was a biggun, prob’ly a forty footer. An’ I just climbed that sum bitch. Hell, I was damned near thirty years old, an’ I climbed a tree. You wanna know why?”

I smiled and nodded my head, “Yes sir.”

“Because I could,” he grinned.

He pulled a plastic tipped cigar from his pocket and waved it at me as he spoke, “War dries us out Jak. Two years dried me right up. Hell, you been at it for damned near twenty, you’re drier’n a popcorn fart. Go absorb some of what God intended for ya to. And don’t fuss about lettin’ your heart open up. If she’s a good girl for ya, you’ll heart’ll know it.”

He lifted the cigar to his mouth and chewed on the tip as if satisfied he made had his point. As I considered his comments, he narrowed his eyes and pulled the cigar from his mouth. He pointed the tip in my direction and smiled as he nodded his head sharply, “And if she was bad, we wouldn’t be havin’ this talk now would we?”

I smiled and shook my head, “No sir.”

He turned and slowly walked toward the bench. After what appeared to be a short recollection of where he was when I disturbed him, he reached down, picked up the electric motor from the pump and set it aside. For an instant he stood motionless.

He looked over his right shoulder. The cigar still dangled from his lips, “Go climb that tree, Jak.”

I nodded my head and smiled, “Thanks Oscar. I’ll be seeing you.”

“Not if I see you first,” he chuckled.

I bent down, retied my shoes and jogged to the parking lot. The thought of possibly seeing Karter filled my mind as I unlocked the truck and retrieved my phone from my gym bag. Still standing outside the truck, I swiped the screen of my phone. Upon opening the text screen, I smiled. One lone text message was all I had received. It was all I needed. Anxiously, I opened the message.

Karter Wilson: I can’t paint and I don’t want to ride. All I can think about is you. Dude, what the fuck did you do to me?

I stared at the screen, knowing what I wanted to say, but feeling as if I shouldn’t send a message which would allow her to perceive me as weak or needy.

Fuck it, Jak. Be honest with this girl. Be honest with yourself. Tell her what you’re thinking. Then, she’ll know exactly how you feel. If she’s still interested, it’ll be for all the right reasons.

I inhaled, studied at the screen for a second, and typed a brief but heartfelt response. 

I feel the same way.

I tossed the phone onto the top of my bag and climbed into the seat of the truck. After a shower and change of clothes, I’d be ready for a new day of relaxation. As I pushed the key into the ignition, my phone beeped. I reached for it and immediately swiped my thumb across the screen as I raised it to my chest.

Karter Wilson: I’m dying a slow miserable death. End the fucking pain. Come over, pick me up, and then leave if you have to. But come pick me up. Mosley Street Apts. #211.

Uncertain if she meant to pick her up from her apartment and take her somewhere or lift her from her feet again, I reread the message. Still unclear and not wanting to make any assumptions, I typed a universal response.

I’m in PT gear and need to shower.

I read my message. Dissatisfied with the military reference, I erased it and retyped another message.

I just got done running and I’m in shorts and a tee shirt. Give me an hour.

I pressed send.

I tossed my phone onto my gym bag. As I gripped the key with my thumb and forefinger, the phone beeped. I shook my head and smiled as I lifted it from the bag and cleared the screen.

Karter Wilson: An hour? Fuck that. Did you not read my first message? I’m dying. Like DYING. I’m dressed inappropriately as well. Come as you are. Make it quick. *collapses to floor and drops phone*

I laughed audibly and shook my head. Damn, this girl seemed to be exactly what I needed. If nothing else, she would keep me on my toes. I looked down at my sweaty shorts and pressed my hand against the chest of my tee shirt.
Wet
.

If she’s truly dying I suppose it’s my solemn duty to attempt to save her.

I typed a quick response and pressed send.

En route. ETA fifteen minutes.

I tossed my phone onto the bag and started the truck. As I backed away from the parking stall, my phone beeped. I shook my head and rolled my eyes. After I stopped the truck and pushed the gear shifter into park, I picked up the phone and glanced at the screen.