Home to Stay by Maryann Jordan

8

Lucy sat alone in her classroom, opening the plastic bag with her sandwich and chips. She usually ate in the teacher’s lounge but today wasn’t in the mood for the lively chats. Not when her mind was still filled with the infuriating John Roster.

She had tried to hide her rotten mood during her family dinner yesterday, but they knew something was up. Thankfully, her parents hadn’t continued to pry, having always allowed her to noodle through her problems… well, after her dad made sure her house wasn’t falling apart. Her brother wanted to know if he needed to kick some guy’s ass, but she assured him she was perfectly capable of kicking ass if needed. Her mother had offered a little smile, instinctively knowing she was upset over a man.

But the truth was she had no idea why John had turned cold on her. They’d had a nice dinner. They’d talked about house projects and her class. He’d seemed relaxed. Sitting on the sofa, she had imagined that they were leaning toward each other as they talked, his fingers dancing close to her shoulder. She had even considered closing the distance and seeing if he tasted as good as she was sure he would. And from the look in his eyes, he’d wanted that, too. So what happened? I ask more about him and suddenly he clams up and can’t get out of my house fast enough.

A knock on the door had her look up and she smiled as Paula walked in, glad for the distraction.

“Hey, girl, my kids are at art class so I thought I’d have a little adult time while yours are at lunch.” Paula plopped down into the chair next to Lucy’s desk and narrowed her eyes. “You certainly don’t look like a woman who had dinner with a delicious soldier over the weekend.”

She shrugged. “It was nice but other than him coming on Wednesday to visit my classroom again, I’m not sure I’ll see him. I don’t think he’s that into me.”

“Oh, Lucy, I’m sorry. I thought for sure he was interested when you were together at Moose’s the other night. He certainly looked like he would slay a dragon for you.”

A snort slipped out, and she shook her head. “Dinner was nice, and we chatted easily. At least, I did. But when I asked more about him, he suddenly took off like I’d asked him to divulge government secrets or something. I guess he was just being polite and then decided that he wasn’t interested.” She shrugged again. “Oh, well. I can see him on Wednesday when he comes here, be congenial, and then it will be over. Since he’s out of the Army, there won’t be any more class assignments that involve him anyway.”

“Well, since you’re still a free agent, I’ve got a proposal. There’s a music festival in Canada this weekend and I’ve got two tickets for the VIP section, including free beer. You and me, girl. Music. Beer. Special passes to meet the band. What do you say?”

“Are you going for the band or your new friends in the biker jackets?”

Paula jerked her chin back, her eyes narrowing. “Seriously, Lucy? When did you start having a prejudice against bikers?”

“I don’t,” she huffed, tossing her balled-up napkin onto the table. “I have no problem with someone’s appearance or what they like to do, including riding, as long as what they do isn’t illegal.”

“Are you saying those guys I was with Friday night are criminals? Based on what? Their looks? Their jackets?”

Licking her lips, she said, “No, but John didn’t have a good feeling about them.”

Paula threw her hands into the air. “Well, oh, my God. Soldier-boy John didn’t have a good feeling about them. Well, let me just go hide under a rock before the big, bad bikers come to get me!”

“You don’t have to get all sarcastic. That’s not helping.” They sat in silence, Lucy enduring Paula’s glare for a moment, before she finally said, “I don’t want us to argue.”

Paula sighed heavily and nodded. “I don’t either. Look, this weekend has nothing to do with the bikers anyway. I just got angry when you asked about them. But this weekend is about the music festival.” She reached over and squeezed Lucy’s hand. “And John didn’t turn out to be the great hero you had in your mind, so I’m not sure why his opinion matters anyway. Come on. Say you’ll go with me.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say no, but the idea of being home alone for another weekend just working on her house held little appeal. Sucking in a deep breath before letting it out in a rush, she looked up at Paula’s expectant face. “Okay.”

Paula jerked slightly. “What? Just like that? Okay? No ‘I’ve got to paint my ceiling’ excuse?”

Rolling her eyes, she crinkled her nose. “I don’t always have excuses!”

“Once you bought your house, you turned into a little old lady. But I’m just teasing. I’m stoked about this weekend. I’ll pick you up on Saturday morning and we’ll make a day of it.” Paula stood and smoothed her skirt before walking to the door. She turned and winked. “And if we get lucky, we’ll spend the night there, too!”

Paula left the room before Lucy had a chance to retort. Sighing heavily, she packed up her half-eaten sandwich and placed it back into her bag, needing to run to the restroom before her class came back into the room. She wished she had more enthusiasm for Paula’s weekend adventure. They’d certainly had fun before when they went to concerts or movies together, but it seemed Paula’s tastes had recently turned a little wilder. Or maybe I’m just becoming an old lady like she said.

* * *

John was at the top of the ladder, repairing some of Gramps’ guttering that had pulled loose from the edge of the roof. With only a few small trees in the vicinity of the house, at least he didn’t have to clean out the gutters first. An image of Lucy’s cottage in the woods with tall trees all around caused him to wonder about the condition of her gutters. He remembered she’d said her mother didn’t want her to climb onto the roof, but she didn’t mention whether or not she’d been on a ladder.

He hated the way he left things with her, and the desire to call or at least send a text just to know that she was okay was strong. Maybe to tell her he was sorry. Maybe to tell her they could start over.

He’d taken his grandfather’s words to heart the other evening but couldn’t brush away the feeling that he had nothing to offer her at the moment. Well, I can always offer to help her with her gutters, but I doubt that would go over very well.

He was lost in thought, but years in special forces had honed his senses to a fine point and he heard a vehicle slow down before it turned onto Gramps’ drive. Twisting around, he watched as a large, black SUV drove to the house, parking next to Gramps’ old truck. Horace climbed down from the passenger side, throwing his hand up in a wave toward Gramps, who had stepped out onto the front porch.

The driver of the vehicle alighted, and John had no doubt he was looking at Horace’s boss, the owner of Lighthouse Security Investigations. The man was tall and broad, with black hair and a shadowed jaw. His eyes were covered by aviator glasses, and he walked with an air of confidence and accomplishment. Horace was in the process of introducing Gramps but he was aware the man’s gaze shot up the ladder toward him.

Climbing down, nervousness bolted through him, an emotion he wasn’t used to. But considering he’d felt the same thing before going into the school last week, he wondered if being outside his comfort zone was something he would have to get used to. Not liking that thought, he shoved it to the side as he reached the bottom of the ladder. Pulling off his leather work gloves, he dropped them, along with a hammer, to the ground and stepped forward.

Gramps was grinning ear to ear, a sight he’d rarely seen. “John, you remember my friend, Horace.”

Reaching out his hand, he shook the older man’s firm grip. “Good to see you again.”

Horace nodded, smiling. “Good to see you, too. As I promised, I talked to my boss. I’d like you to meet Mason Hanover. Mace, this is John Roster.”

The two men shook hands, outwardly friendly but both sizing each other up and knowing that was exactly what they were doing.

“John,” Mace began. “Horace suggested spending some time with your grandfather, so I thought I’d come along and we could have a chance to meet and talk informally.”

“I’d like that, sir.”

“It’s just Mace, not sir.”

Gramps piped up. “Why don’t you go sit inside the house? There’s beer or iced tea, and Horace is going to take me into town to pick up a couple of things. We’ll take my truck so if Mace needs to leave, he can do so, and I can drop Horace off at his place.”

John left the decision up to Mace but wasn’t surprised at the other man’s easy acquiescence. Soon, the two older men left, and he and Mace were in the living room, beers in front of them.

“Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself, John?”

Mace’s demeanor was casual, but John knew the man was sharp and intuitive, anything but casual. This was the initial stage of a job interview, and he was certain Mace would pick up on every nuance. All I can be is me. Either he thinks I’ve got possibilities or I don’t, but his opinion has to be based on the real me. The tension he’d carried in his shoulders eased with that thought, and he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he held Mace’s gaze.

“My pre-military background was varied. My father was in the Army, and my early years were spent moving around a lot. My parents got a divorce when I was about ten, and my dad had custody. When he was deployed, I would come here and stay with my grandparents. When I was thirteen, my dad was killed in an accident during a training maneuver and I moved here permanently with my grandparents. I was lucky to have them in my life. But like many, I was anxious to chart my own way and joined the Army right out of high school. After a couple of years, I was accepted into Special Forces Preparation Course.”

Mace’s lips curved slightly, and John grinned. “It’s my understanding that you were Special Forces, so I’m sure you know this part of my story. SF Assessment and Selection and SFQC. After the year of Qualification Course, I graduated and became the Eighteen C.”

Mace nodded. “Build it, demolish it.”

“Yes, sir—Mace. I was lucky. Had a career I loved and was SF for twelve of my sixteen years.”

“I won’t ask you about duties or missions, well acquainted with all of those. But I am curious about your discharge.”

“It was the last mission I was on. I’d managed the demolition with no problem, but one of my team members was injured, and I went to help. An IED exploded near us, and I took a hit on the left side of my face with shrapnel. Honestly, it wasn’t that bad, but it was the placement of the injury. I had a few pieces in my eye.” He lifted his hand, his fingers touching the already-familiar scars. “I was temporarily blinded but was helicoptered out and lucky to have an ophthalmologic surgeon to save my sight.” He shrugged, but sat up straight, holding Mace’s gaze. “But I have no peripheral vision in my left eye on that side.” He lifted his hand in front of him and slowly moved it toward the left, stopping at a seventy-five-degree angle from his face. “I can see to here, and from then on to my shoulder is black.”

Mace held his gaze, saying nothing for a moment, then nodded slowly. “You would be a liability to your SF team without your full vision.”

Mace’s words were completely true. John knew it. He understood it. That liability was the entire reason he was no longer able to serve on his SF team. It would be the reason for him to have only a desk job if he’d stayed in the Army. His mouth felt dry, and he swallowed with difficulty. He refused to look away from Mace’s close perusal, knowing that the man’s next words were probably going to tell him that his vision would be a liability in any security business and would therefore keep him from being employable with Lighthouse Security. But if that was what was going to come, he'd take it and not flinch. He’d just have to find another career. This is not going to fuckin’ define me.

As though Mace heard his thoughts, he asked, “What defines you?”

He breathed deeply, considering his response. “De Oppresso Liber.”

Mace’s lips curved. “To free the oppressed.”

“You might think I’m full of shit and feeding you a line. But for many years, the motto of the Special Forces defined me. For a couple of months, I admit I let my vision and subsequent medical discharge keep me from feeling the same sense of purpose. But the truth of the matter, Mace, is that I’m a protector at heart.”

Mace leaned back in his seat, the beer bottle dangling loosely from his fingertips, and nodded. Tension eased out of John’s body, knowing whatever Mace’s decision would be, he’d been truthful.

“My background is classified, but I can say that I struggled with a change I had to make mid-mission but knew the position I’d taken would save lives. It was on this special operation that I had the opportunity to work with a multi-agency task force of SEALs, Rangers, Deltas, Air Force Special Ops, and CIA, plus some others. I couldn’t imagine how it was going to work but discovered when egos were checked at the door, the talents and special knowledge from this diverse group of people meant that we accomplished a great deal. It became a dream of mine that when I left the Army I could replicate the idea for a private security business. It took five years, calling in markers for many of my contacts, and a lot of money to create Lighthouse Security Investigations. We run private and government contracts. We pick and choose the missions we feel are best suited for our specialties. I consider my Keepers to be the best in the business.”

He nodded, interest flaring but uncertain if he should ask any questions. Knowing Mace would not divulge any specifics on their cases, he waited to see what other information would be imparted.

“My situation was similar to yours, only it was my dad that had taken off and my mom raised my sister and me. I spent a lot of time with my grandfather who lived near a lighthouse not too far from here. I grew up listening to the stories of the lighthouse keepers, their sense of dedication and devotion to the task regardless of the conditions they were forced to live in. Keepers are the defenders of the light. The caretakers. The guides to safety for those who are lost in the storm.”

“I’m impressed, Mace. Not only with the business you built but with your vision for the mission you undertake.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that. I don’t advertise for employees. And I assure you that just because someone was in a branch of special operations in the military, that doesn’t give them an automatic in with me. Our employee base is fairly small, and I’m not looking to expand beyond our capabilities. I started with nine Special Ops, and a former CIA Special Ops I’d worked with is running the office. That position was her choice, even though now she also works some ops with us. I’d worked with Horace’s wife, and when they’d both retired years before and were looking for something to do, I hired them on as well. He takes care of the grounds, and quite frankly, Marge takes care of us. I’ve now increased our ranks by four more. My wife is also now our office manager.”

John tried to tamp down his growing enthusiasm but was certain that Mace would not be divulging this much information if he wasn’t at least interested in considering him as a possible employee.

They continued to talk for another hour, both about missions they were able to discuss and getting to know each other more. Just as Gramps returned home, they stood and walked out to Mace’s SUV.

Shaking hands, Mace said, “I’d like for you to have a chance to meet some of the other Keepers.”

“I’d like that. I’d like that a great deal.”

“Okay, how about Thursday night at Moose’s Bar? It’s a local establishment.”

“I’ve been there. That’s where I met Horace.”

“Good, good. Thursday nights tend to be less crowded and a lot tamer than the weekends. We’ll get there about seven.”

“I’ll be there.”

Mace climbed into his SUV, and John threw his hand up in a wave as he watched it drive back down Gramps’ drive before he headed inside. Gramps looked up at him, his eyes sharp.

“Good visit, boy?”

“Yeah, Gramps. Good visit.”

Gramps nodded and settled into his recliner. “Well, don’t forget the gutters.”

Walking back outside, he grinned as he climbed the ladder once again.