SEALs of Chance Creek 01 - A SEAL's Oath Page 3

  Jericho paced back. “But his demands are—”

  “Insane. I know that.” Boone knew he was losing them. “He’s right, though; a sustainable community made only of men doesn’t mean shit. A community that’s actually going to sustain itself—to carry on into the future, generation after generation—has to include women and eventually kids. Otherwise we’re just playing.”

  “Fulsom’s the one who’s playing. Playing with our lives. He can’t demand we marry someone for the sake of his ratings,” Jericho said.

  “Actually, he can,” Clay said. “He’s the one with the cash.”

  “We’ll find cash somewhere else—”

  “It’s more than cash,” Boone reminded Jericho. “It’s publicity. If we build a community and no one knows about it, what good is it? We went to Fulsom because we wanted him to do just what he’s done—find a way to make everyone talk about sustainability.”

  “By marrying us off one by one?” Jericho stared at each of them in turn. “Are you serious? We just spent the last thirteen years of our lives fighting for our country—”

  “And now we’re going to fight for it in a whole new way. By getting married. On television. And knocking up our wives—while the whole damn world watches,” Boone said.

  No one spoke for a minute.

  “I sure as hell hope they won’t film that part, Chief,” Clay said with a quick grin, using the moniker Boone had gained in the SEALs as second in command of his platoon.

  “They wouldn’t want to film your hairy ass, anyway,” Jericho said.

  Clay shoved him. Jericho elbowed him away.

  “Enough.” Walker’s single word settled all of them down. They were used to listening to their lieutenant. Walker turned to Boone. “You think this will actually do any good?”

  Boone shrugged. “Remember Yemen. Remember what’s coming. We swore we’d do what it takes to make a difference.” It was a low blow bringing up that disaster, but it was what had gotten them started down this path and he wanted to remind them of it.

  “I remember Yemen every day,” Jericho said, all trace of clowning around gone.

  “So do I.” Clay sighed. “Hell, I’m ready for a family anyway. I’m in. I don’t know how I’ll find a wife, though. Ain’t had any luck so far.”

  “I’ll find you one,” Boone told him.

  “Thanks, Chief.” Clay gave him an ironic salute.

  Jericho walked away. Came back again. “Damn it. I’m in, too. Under protest, though. Something this serious shouldn’t be a game. You find me a wife, too, Chief, but I’ll divorce her when the six months are up if I don’t like her.”

  “Wait until Fulsom’s given us the deed to the ranch, then do what you like,” Boone said. “But if I’m picking your bride, give her a chance.”

  “Sure, Chief.”

  Boone didn’t trust that answer, but Jericho had agreed to Fulsom’s terms and that’s all that mattered for now. He looked to Walker. It was crucial that the man get on board. Walker stared back at him, his gaze unfathomable. Boone knew there was trouble in his past. Lots of trouble. The man avoided women whenever he could.

  Finally Walker gave him a curt nod. “Find me one, too. Don’t screw it up.”

  Boone let out the breath he was holding. Despite the events of the past hour, a surge of anticipation warmed him from within.

  They were going to do it.

  And he was going to get hitched.

  Was Riley the marrying kind?

  RILEY EATON TOOK a sip of her green tea and summoned a smile for the friends who’d gathered on the tiny balcony of her apartment in Boston. Her thoughts were far away, though, tangled in a memory of a hot Montana afternoon when she was only ten. She’d crouched on the bank of Pittance Creek watching Boone Rudman wade through the knee-deep waters, fishing for minnows with a net. Riley had followed Boone everywhere back then, but she knew to stay out of the water and not scare his bait away.

  “Mom said marriage is a trap set by men for unsuspecting women,” she’d told him, quoting what she’d heard her mother say to a friend over the phone.

  “You’d better watch out then,” he’d said, poised to scoop up a handful of little fish.

  “I won’t get caught. Someone’s got to want to catch you before that happens.”

  Boone had straightened, his net trailing in the water. She’d never forgotten the way he’d looked at her—all earnest concern.

  “Maybe I’ll catch you.”

  “Why?” She’d been genuinely curious. Getting overlooked was something she’d already grown used to.

  “For my wife. If I ever want one. You’ll never see me coming.” He’d lifted his chin as if she’d argue the point. But Riley had thought it over and knew he was right.

  She’d nodded. “You are pretty sneaky.”

  Riley had never forgotten that conversation, but Boone had and like everyone else he’d overlooked her when the time counted.

  Story of her life.

  Riley shook off the maudlin thoughts. She couldn’t be a good hostess if she was wrapped up in her troubles. Time enough for them when her friends had gone.

  She took another sip of her tea and hoped they wouldn’t notice the tremor in her hands. She couldn’t believe seven years had passed since she’d graduated from Boston College with the women who relaxed on the cheap folding chairs around her. Back then she’d thought she’d always have these women by her side, but now these yearly reunions were the only time she saw them. They were all firmly ensconced in careers that consumed their time and energy. It was hard enough to stay afloat these days, let alone get ahead in the world—or have time to take a break.

  Gone were the carefree years when they thought nothing of losing whole weekends to trying out a new art medium, or picking up a new instrument. Once she’d been fearless, throwing paint on the canvas, guided only by her moods. She’d experimented day after day, laughed at the disasters and gloried in the triumphs that took shape under her brushes from time to time. Now she rarely even sketched, and what she produced seemed inane. If she wanted to express the truth of her situation through her art, she’d paint pigeons and gum stuck to the sidewalk. But she wasn’t honest anymore.

  For much of the past five years she’d been married to her job as a commercial artist at a vitamin distributor, joined to it twenty-four seven through her cell phone and Internet connection. Those years studying art seemed like a dream now; the one time in her life she’d felt like she’d truly belonged somewhere. She had no idea how she’d thought she’d earn a living with a fine arts degree, though. She supposed she’d hadn’t thought much about the future back then. Now she felt trapped by it.

  Especially after the week she’d had.

  She set her cup down and twisted her hands together, trying to stop the shaking. It had started on Wednesday when she’d been called into her boss’s office and handed a pink slip and a box in which to pack up her things.

  “Downsizing. It’s nothing personal,” he’d told her.

  She didn’t know how she’d kept her feet as she’d made her way out of the building. She wasn’t the only one riding the elevator down to street level with her belongings in her hands, but that was cold comfort. It had been hard enough to find this job. She had no idea where to start looking for another.

  She’d held in her shock and panic that night and all the next day until Nadia from the adoption agency knocked on her door for their scheduled home visit at precisely two pm. She’d managed to answer Nadia’s questions calmly and carefully, until the woman put down her pen.

  “Tell me about your job, Riley. How will you as a single mother balance work and home life with a child?”

  Riley had opened her mouth to speak, but no answer had come out. She’d reached for her cup of tea, but only managed to spill it on the cream colored skirt she’d chosen carefully for the occasion. As Nadia rushed to help her mop up, the truth had spilled from Riley’s lips.

  “I’ve just been downsized. I’m sorry; I
’ll get a new job right away. This doesn’t have to change anything, does it?”

  Nadia had been sympathetic but firm. “This is why we hesitate to place children with single parents, Riley. Children require stability. We can continue the interview and I’ll weigh all the information in our judgement, but until you can prove you have a stable job, I’m afraid you won’t qualify for a child.”

  “That will take years,” Riley had almost cried, but she’d bitten back the words. What good would it do to say them aloud? As a girl, she’d dreamed she’d have children with Boone someday. When she’d grown up, she’d thought she’d find someone else. Hadn’t she waited long enough to start her family?

  “Riley? Are you all right?” Savannah Edwards asked, bringing her back to the present.

  “Of course.” She had to be. There was no other option but to soldier on. She needed to get a new job. A better job. She needed to excel at it and put the time in to make herself indispensable. Then, in a few years, she could try again to adopt.

  “Are you sure?” A tall blonde with hazel eyes, Savannah had been Riley’s best friend back in school, and Riley had always had a hard time fooling her. Savannah had been a music major and Riley could have listened to her play forever. She was the first person Riley had met since her grandparents passed away who seemed to care about her wholeheartedly. Riley’s parents had been too busy arguing with each other all through her childhood to have much time left over to think about her. They split up within weeks after she left for college. Each remarried before the year was out and both started new families soon after. Riley felt like the odd man out when she visited them on holidays. More than eighteen years older than her half-siblings, she didn’t seem to belong anywhere now.

  “I’m great now that you three are here.” She wouldn’t confess the setback that had just befallen her. It was still too raw to process and she didn’t want to bring the others down when they’d only just arrived. She wasn’t the only one who had it tough. Savannah should have been a concert pianist, but when she broke her wrist in a car accident several years after graduation, she had to give up her aspirations. Instead, she had gone to work as an assistant at a prominent tech company in Silicon Valley and was still there.

  “What’s on tap for the weekend?” Nora Ridgeway asked as she scooped her long, wavy, light brown hair into a messy updo and secured it with a clip. She’d flown in from Baltimore where she taught English in an inner-city high school. Riley had been shocked to see the dark smudges under her eyes. Nora looked thin. Too thin. Riley wondered what secrets she was hiding behind her upbeat tone.

  “I hope it’s a whole lot of nothing,” Avery Lightfoot said, her auburn curls glinting in the sun. Avery lived in Nashville and worked in the marketing department of one of the largest food distribution companies in North America. She’d studied acting in school, but she’d never been discovered the way she’d once hoped to be. For a brief time she’d created an original video series that she’d posted online, but the advertising revenue she’d generated hadn’t added up to much and soon her money had run out. Now she created short videos to market low-carb products to yoga moms. Riley’s heart ached for her friend. She sounded as tired as Nora looked.

  In fact, everyone looked like they needed a pick-me-up after dealing with flights and taxis, and Riley headed inside to get refreshments. She wished she’d been able to drive to the airport and pick them up. Who could afford a car, though? Even when she’d had a job, Riley found it hard to keep up with her rent, medical insurance and monthly bills, and budget enough for the childcare she’d need when she adopted. Thank God it had been her turn to host their gathering this year. She couldn’t have gotten on a plane after the news she’d just received.

  When she thought back to her college days she realized her belief in a golden future had really been a pipe dream. Some of her classmates were doing fine. But most of them were struggling to keep their heads above water, just like her. A few had given up and moved back in with their parents.

  When she got back to the balcony with a tray of snacks, she saw Savannah pluck a dog-eared copy of Pride and Prejudice out of a small basket that sat next to the door. Riley had been reading it in the mornings before work this week as she drank her coffee—until she’d been let go. A little escapism helped start her day off on the right foot.

  “Am I the only one who’d trade my life for one of Austen’s characters’ in a heartbeat?” Savannah asked, flipping through the pages.

  “You want to live in Regency England? And be some man’s property?” Nora asked sharply.

  “Of course not. I don’t want the class conflict or the snobbery or the outdated rules. But I want the beauty of their lives. I want the music and the literature. I want afternoon visits and balls that last all night. Why don’t we do those things anymore?”

  “Who has time for that?” Riley certainly hadn’t when she was working. Now she’d have to spend every waking moment finding a new job.

  “I haven’t played the piano in ages,” Savannah went on. “I mean, it’s not like I’m all that good anymore—”

  “Are you kidding? You’ve always been fantastic,” Nora said.

  “What about romance? I’d kill for a real romance. One that means something,” Avery said.

  “What about Dan?” Savannah asked.

  “I broke up with him three weeks ago. He told me he wasn’t ready for a serious relationship. The man’s thirty-one. If he’s not ready now, when will he be?”

  “That’s tough.” Riley understood what Avery meant. She hadn’t had a date in a year; not since Marc Hepstein had told her he didn’t consider her marriage material. She should have dumped him long before.

  It wasn’t like she hadn’t been warned. His older sister had taken her aside once and spelled it out for her:

  “Every boy needs to sow his wild oats. You’re his shiksa fling. You’ll see; you won’t get a wedding ring from him. Marc will marry a nice Jewish girl in the end.”

  Riley wished she’d paid attention to the warning, but of course she hadn’t. She had a history of dangling after men who were unavailable.

  Shiksa fling.

  Just a step up from Tagalong Riley.

  Riley pushed down the old insecurities that threatened to take hold of her and tried not to give in to her pain over her lost chance to adopt. When Marc had broken up with her, it had been a wake-up call. She’d realized if she waited for a man to love her, she might never experience the joy of raising a child. She’d also realized she hadn’t loved Marc enough to spend a life with him. She’d been settling, and she was better than that.

  She’d started the adoption process.

  Now she’d have to start all over again.

  “It wasn’t as hard to leave him as you might think.” Avery took a sip of her tea. “It’s not just Dan. I feel like breaking up with my life. I had a heart once. I know I did. I used to feel—alive.”

  “Me, too,” Nora said softly.

  “I thought I’d be married by now,” Savannah said, “but I haven’t had a boyfriend in months. And I hate my job. I mean, I really hate it!” Riley couldn’t remember ever seeing calm, poised Savannah like this.

  “So do I,” Avery said, her words gushing forth as if a dam had broken. “Especially since I have two of them now. I got back in debt when my car broke down and I needed to buy a new one. Now I can’t seem to get ahead.”

  “I don’t have any job at all,” Riley confessed. “I’ve been downsized.” She closed her eyes. She hadn’t meant to say that.

  “Oh my goodness, Riley,” Avery said. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. Paint?” She laughed dully. She couldn’t tell them the worst of it. She was afraid if she talked about her failed attempt to adopt she’d lose control of her emotions altogether. “Can you imagine a life in which we could actually pursue our dreams?”

  “No,” Avery said flatly. “After what happened last time, I’m so afraid if I try to act again, I’ll
just make a fool of myself.”

  Savannah nodded vigorously, tears glinting in her eyes. “I’m afraid to play,” she confessed. “I sit down at my piano and then I get up again without touching the keys. What if my talent was all a dream? What if I was fooling myself and I was never anything special at all? My wrist healed years ago, but I can’t make myself go for it like I once did. I’m too scared.”

  “What about you, Nora? Do you ever write these days?” Riley asked gently when Nora remained quiet. When they were younger, Nora talked all the time about wanting to write a novel, but she hadn’t mentioned it in ages. Riley had assumed it was because she loved teaching, but she looked as burnt out as the rest of them. Riley knew she worked in an area of Baltimore that resembled a war zone.

  Her friend didn’t answer, but a tear traced down her cheek.

  “Nora, what is it?” Savannah dropped the book and came to crouch by her chair.

  “It’s one of my students.” Nora kept her voice steady even as another tear followed the tracks of the first. “At least I think it is.”

  “What do you mean?” Riley realized they’d all pulled closer to each other, leaning forward in mutual support and feeling. Dread crept into her throat at Nora’s words. She’d known instinctively something was wrong in her friend’s life for quite some time, but despite her questions, Nora’s e-mails and texts never revealed a thing.

  “I’ve been getting threats. On my phone,” Nora said, plucking at a piece of lint on her skirt.

  “Someone’s texting threats?” Savannah sounded aghast.

  “And calling. He has my home number, too.”

  “What did he say?” Avery asked.

  “Did he threaten to hurt you?” Riley demanded. After a moment, Nora nodded.

  “To kill you?” Avery whispered.

  Nora nodded again. “And more.”

  Savannah’s expression hardened. “More?”

  Nora looked up. “He threatened to rape me. He said I’d like it. He got… really graphic.”

  The four of them stared at each other in shocked silence.

  “You can’t go back,” Savannah said. “Nora, you can’t go back there. I don’t care how important your work is, that’s too much.”