Starting Over(Hart of Seattle)

Chapter Two



Staff Sergeant Sean “Cougar” Jacobson looked around the quarters that had been his and what remained of his team’s home for the last six weeks. It was good to be back in the US. He had eight weeks of leave coming to him and this time, he was taking them. While he was away, he had decisions to make. One of which was whether to re-enlist. After his team’s last botched job, the decision was not as easy as it should have been.
Each time he left on a mission, he knew this one could possibly be his last. The knowledge that he might not make it back alive had always been acceptable as long as the mission was successful. Now, however, after experiencing torture firsthand, Sean was no longer quite so confident that the military was his life as he’d come to believe.
Then there was the other thing that happened to him...
Corporal Cameron “Spook” Rodriguez slapped him on the back, interrupting his musings. “Serge, you remember what I taught you. Call if you run into any problems.” Spook arched his eyebrows meaningfully.
Sean gave a brief grin. “I doubt I will. Your instructions were very detailed and thorough.” His smile faded. “I never thanked you.”
Spook flushed. “Ah, don’t mention it.”
“I have to. What you did for me and the others, you saved our lives.” Spook was the youngest, most inexperienced member of his team, and surprisingly had turned out to be the one with the ability to save them all.
Spook looked down at the carpet. “Some would say I damned you for all eternity.”
“Hey! I’d rather be,” he glanced around furtively and lowered his voice, “a werewolf—”
“Lycan,” Spook corrected.
“Lycan,” Sean corrected himself, “than dead.”
Spook raised haunted eyes to Sean. “Too bad the others didn’t feel that way.”
He laid a comforting hand on Spook’s shoulder. “Cam, you tried. You made the offer when you didn’t have to. Those of us who took it—”

“Who survived,” Spook interjected.
“Who survived,” Sean acknowledged, “appreciate you for doing so.”
Their special ops team of ten had been ambushed while on a mission to find and destroy a newly formed al Quid’a cell the government got wind of in the jungles of Central America. Those who hadn’t died in the ensuing firefight had been captured and held hostage. The terrorist bastards had no intentions of releasing them, but got their jollies torturing them one at a time for information they knew the men hadn’t possessed.
It was then that Spook revealed he was Lycan born. First he explained what it meant, and then he offered to transform them. The process was not without its own share of danger. First they had to survive a vicious attack by Spook in wolf-man form. Unlike in werewolf legends, a simple bite wouldn’t do. If Spook managed not to kill them—and there was no guaranteeing he wouldn’t since the taste of blood could make him loose all control—then the virus could.
The L-virus is what transformed them into Lycans. The virus attached itself to the Y-chromosomes, causing delirium as their body temperature spiked to inhuman levels while the virus took hold. The onset lasted about thirty-six hours and it took about ninety-six for the virus to run its course, with the first twenty-four hours being the worst.
If the fever didn’t kill them, then they still had to survive their first shift with their sanity intact, which occurred during the first full moon after being bitten. Despite the risks, Sean had jumped at the opportunity. Given a choice between possible and sure death, he’d chosen transformation. As leader, he’d demanded to be first.
Of the eight of them that had been captured, two refused, one didn’t survive the attack and another didn’t survive his first change. And only the four Lycans—Spook, Weasel, Monk, and him—made it out of Central America alive.
“Well, remember the Lycan brotherhood is everywhere, even where you’re headed. You have any trouble, give me a call and I’ll put you in touch with folks who can help. You still have the numbers I gave you?”
Sean patted his chest pocket. “Right here.”
“Good.” Spook cleared his throat and seemed uncertain what to do next. He looked like a father who didn’t want to let his kid go off to college, but knew he had to release him to the real world sometime. Smiling wryly at the thought, Sean reached over and lifted his gear off the bed.
“You tell your girl I said hi. Bet she’ll be happy to see you.”
Adjusting the strap of his duffle on his shoulder, he corrected Spook. “She’s not my girl. Von’s engaged to a former army buddy.”
“She’s not married yet. That means you still have time.”
“I told you, Hooch is a friend. I wouldn’t do him like that.” At one time, Hooch had been a brother to him, had even saved his life once during a firefight by pulling him out of harm’s way. You didn’t repay a man by stealing his girl.
“Sure, Serge.” Spook’s expression spoke volumes. “You just remember what I told you. See you when you get back.”
Sean nodded and walked out the door. Only to himself did he admit that he was in love with his best friend’s girl, and if Von ever looked at him with a hint of the love he felt for her, screw friendship. He’d do whatever it took to make her his.

****


Sean caught a hop into Fort Stewart and arranged lodging on the base. MWR arranged for a car rental and gave him a map of the area. He picked up his truck, went to a nearby Wal-Mart to purchase some additional supplies, though he could have bought them on the base, then returned to his room to settle in.
Once he unpacked, he picked up the remote, turned to CNN Sports and watched a baseball game, more as a way to pass the time than out of any interest in the sport. Inside he was a bundle of nerves. Former Private First Class Derrick “Hooch” Wilkins had encouraged him on more than one occasion to come for a visit, but was the invitation still open? It had been years since they’d seen each other, though they still kept in touch via email and Facebook.
His friend, Hooch, was a minister now. A freaking man of the cloth. There’d been nothing holy about the guy he met in basic training and later deployed in the same unit with to Iraq. That guy had been pure trouble, proving the maxim about preacher’s kids to be true. They’d tagged him with the moniker because of the amount of liquor he consumed and his winning way with the ladies. Sean shook his head. Unbelievable.
And Von? Did Hooch know his woman still wrote to him? Sean picked up the recently opened packet of letters that were never far from his side. She’d continued to write and email even though he’d dropped off radar for several months. Von knew his job was frequently dangerous. He’d never gone into detail but had given enough hints that she knew not to panic or think he was ending their friendship if his end happened to go silent for weeks. But he’d never gone months without responding. From the letters that had caught up with him after everything was over, she was frantic with worry.
He brought the envelopes to his lips and kissed them, wondering if Von knew exactly how much of herself she revealed in the lines on these pages. She was so f*cking beautiful to him. It didn’t matter if she was black, white, Hispanic, or Asian. Her soul radiated beauty. Derrick was a very lucky man. He wondered if the bastard realized how lucky.
Finally, evening arrived. Tight with nerves, he dialed Hooch’s home number. The phone rang several times with no answer. Just when he was about to hang up, Hooch answered. “Hello?”
“Hey, stranger. I hope that invitation to come visit is still open.”
“Cougar?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“How are you? Where are you?” Hooch sounded happy to hear from him.
With a silent sigh of relief, Sean collapse against the backrest of the couch. “Fort Stewart for a little R and R.”
“Stewart? That’s right up the road,” he exclaimed.
“That’s the plan. So, that invite still good?”
“Yeah, man! I can’t believe it. Wait until I tell Von you’re here. She’s been asking about you,” Derrick said excitedly.
Heart thumping at the mention of her name, Sean counseled himself to play it cool. “Oh, you two still kickin’ it?”
“We’re getting married.”
“Lucky bastard,” Sean told him with feeling.
“Don’t I know it.”
“So when’s the happy event?” he asked, dreading the answer.
“Not for another year.”
Sean scowled. “Why so long? Aren’t you afraid someone will steal her out from under you?”
“Von? Man, she’s crazy about me. She’s not going anywhere.”
Fool, he deserves to lose her, taking a beautiful woman like Von for granted. If she were his, he’d have bound her to him in every way possible as soon as she said yes. “You know her better than anyone,” he said, keeping his thoughts to himself.
“True that. We’ve been together a long time.” Derrick sounded smug. “So, how long you here for? How soon can we get together?”
“A couple of weeks. You tell me. I’m footloose and fancy-free. You’re the one with the nine-to-five.”
“How about tomorrow night? Von’s off and there’s no service or meetings at the church. Chili’s sound good?”
“Works for me. I can go for some ribs.” He paused to take a sip of his beer. “Hooch, I can’t believe you’re a minister.”

Derrick gave a sheepish laugh. “Yeah, well, what can I say? I’m following in the old man’s footsteps. And call me Derrick. That’s who I am now. Hooch is long gone.”
From what Hooch, make that Derrick, had revealed about his father, deep in the night when confessions flowed, in his place Sean wasn’t sure he’d want to. Derrick Wilkins Senior sounded like a religious fanatic.
“I finished seminary and made junior pastor at our church. Dad suggested giving myself time to get used to my new responsibilities before adding a wife to the mix. Von understands and agrees. He’s been grooming her to be a minister’s wife, so she knows what’s important.”
Sean bared his teeth and growled inaudibly. “That’s great,” he forced out through clenched teeth, knowing full well how Von felt about continually being pushed to the side, coming in last on Derrick’s priority list.
“Hey, listen. I’ve got to run to a meeting, but we’ll definitely get together tomorrow, say six?”
“Sounds good.”
“It’s the Chili’s on Ashley Road. Google it and get the directions.”
“Will do. Check you tomorrow.”
“Later.” They both disconnect.
Sean sat staring blankly at the television. Tomorrow he’d meet the love of his life for the first time, face-to-face.

****


Von fumbled with the door and set her laundry basket down in the entryway, pulling her ringing cell phone out of her pocket, catching it on the last ring. “Hey!”
“You sound out of breath. What were you doing?”
“Laundry. You caught me with my hands full.” She pushed her basket clear of the doorway and shut the door. Then, with the phone tucked between her shoulder and ear, she toted her clothes to the couch and set the basket on the coffee table.
“Guess who I spoke with last night?” Derrick asked excitedly.
“Who?” Only half listening, she reached into the basket and grabbed a pair of lace panties to fold.
“Cougar.”
“Who?”
“Sean Jacobson,” he said impatiently, like she should know immediately who he was talking about.
The panties slipped from her fingers onto the floor and she clutched the phone to her ear. “Your army buddy, Sean?”
“Yes. He’s in town, at Fort Stewart. He called last night.”
Stunned, she stared blankly at the wall in front of her. “That’s...wonderful. How did he sound?”
“He sounded like the same old Sean. Said he was taking me up on my invitation to come and visit. We’re meeting tonight at Chili’s and I’d like you to be there.”
“Sure. I’d love to meet him in person.” That was the understatement of a century.
“I’ll be by to pick you up at five-thirty. Wear something pretty. I want him to see I wasn’t exaggerating when I told him how beautiful you are.”
Despite her spinning thoughts, Von managed a slight smile at the sincere compliment she’d just been given. “Thank you.”
“I’ve got to get back to work. See you tonight.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” Von snapped her phone shut and brought it to her lips.
Sean’s alive and in town? Why hadn’t he contacted her, returned any of her letters or emails? She didn’t have any answers. Maybe tonight she’d get some, but that presented another problem. Von had never told Derrick that she’d continued to keep in contact with Sean after his discharge. It wasn’t like it was a big secret or they’d done anything immoral, but by keeping quiet and for so long, Derrick was sure to take it the wrong way if he found out now.
Tonight was going to be interesting in more than one way.
Suddenly joy welled up inside. He’s alive! She’d begun to believe he’d gotten himself killed on some fool mission. Blinking away tears of happiness, she slid open her phone and typed out a message on the keypad: Call me! The hunk’s in town.
Marketta worked for the electric company, processing payments. Von knew not to call her direct office line because she wouldn’t be able to talk. But her cousin could talk on her lunch break, only an hour away. However, less than five minutes later, her phone rang.
“He’s here?” Marketta squealed excitedly as soon as she answered.
“Yessss!” Von felt like pumping her fist in the air.
“Does Derrick know?”
Confusion calming her somewhat, she answered, “Of course. How do you think I found out? Derrick called to say he wanted me to go with him tonight to Chili’s. That’s where they’re meeting up.”
“Wait. Now I’m lost. Sean is here to see you, isn’t he?”
Both Von’s eyebrows shot up. “No! Derrick’s been inviting Sean to come visit forever. He must have finally decided to take him up on it.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Suddenly agitated, Von rose from the couch and crossed over to the window. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Girl, Derrick’s been out of the service, how long? In all that time, your boy Sean has never come to visit until one day, he goes MIA and drops off radar for months. When he suddenly resurfaces, he pops up for a visit. You know what I think? I think something went down that spooked your boy and made him realize who’s important in his life, and that’s why he’s here. He may have contacted Derrick, but it’s you he’s here to see.”
Troubled and unable to pinpoint why, Von began to pace. “Marketta, Sean and I are friends—pen pals really—just like he and Derrick are friends. But unlike Derrick, Sean and I have never discussed meeting in person. I’m not saying you’re wrong, but maybe whatever happened—supposing something did—made him realize how important his friendship with Derrick is. Derrick saved his life once, you know. That’s not something a person forgets.”
“Hmph, knowing Derrick he hasn’t let Sean forget it,” she murmured.
“Derrick’s not like that,” Von snapped.
“All right, all right. No need to get hostile. You know best. I gotta get back to work.”
“Okay.”
“Make sure you call and tell me how the evening went.”
“I will.”
Dismissing her cousin’s words as nonsense, Von finished her laundry, all the while wondering, What am I wearing tonight?

****


Promptly at five twenty-five, a knock sounded at the door.
Von took one last look in the mirror. Her modest, tulip shaped, calf-length denim skirt skimmed her body without being too revealing. Paired with it she wore a baby blue shirt with fitted three-quarter length sleeves, possessing a neckline that bared only her collarbone. Her hair, which hung to the center of her back when unbound, was gathered and pinned to her nape in a reserved bun. Her only adornment was the slightly decorative hair comb helping to hold everything in place.
Satisfied that she looked nice, she left her bedroom and answered the door. “Hello,” she greeted Derrick with a peck on the cheek.
Derrick placed his arms on her shoulders and pushed her back a step, looking her over from the floor up. He was smiling and nodding approvingly until his gaze reached her face. Then he scowled. “You’re wearing makeup.”
“Just the barest hint of face powder,” she defended.
“Wash it off.”
“But Derrick...”
“Von, you know what we teach. How can we, as leaders, expect others to do as we say if we’re not obedient to scripture ourselves?” he asked in a more reasonable tone.

She pulled away from him and widened the distance between them. “The bible doesn’t say anything about women not wearing makeup. This little bit of foundation I’m wearing is not going to send me to hell.” In recent weeks, she’d been questioning more and more their church’s teachings and searching for her own answers rather than blindly following what she was told. “Not only that, I’ve been watching other churches on television. Their women wear cosmetics and pants, too, and their ministers don’t make them feel like whores for doing so.”
Derrick reached for her and when she avoided him, he sighed deeply. “You’re right. Wearing makeup is not a sin. We never said it was. We believe, like Paul, that women should focus more on their inward beauty rather than their outward appearance. You have a pure and holy soul. Inner goodness radiates out of you like a light. You don’t need to paint your face. You’re beautiful naturally, the way you are.”
She wavered indecisively. There was logic in his words.
“Will you do it for me, please?”
Von bit her lower lip, tugging on it with her teeth before nodding.
“Thank you,” he said warmly.
She went into the bathroom and washed her face, then reapplied moisturizer. As she gathered her purse and keys, Derrick asked, “When did you purchase that stuff?”
“I didn’t. One of Marketta’s friends sells Mary Kay. She bought it to help out and gave it to me as a gift.”
Under his breath he muttered, “Should have known she was involved in this.”
“Derrick, don’t start,” she warned.
“I’m not starting anything. I just wish you could see that she isn’t the best influence on you,” he said defensively.
“She’s family. Marketta’s always been there for me and always will. I love her.” Her association with her cousin was the one area Von had always refused to bend on. Neither Derrick nor his father liked her. They thought she was too loose, too opinionated, too...everything. They’d tried to get her to terminate her relationship with her cousin and when that didn’t work, they pushed her to minimize contact. Again, she’d refused, preferring instead not to mention Marketta unless absolutely necessary.
They walked to the elevator in silence. In the car, Derrick spoke. “If you have questions about our teachings, come to me. Watching all those religious programs on television isn’t good for you. I don’t want you getting confused.”
“Truth is the truth, Derrick. Shouldn’t matter who is preaching it.”
“There’s truth and then there’s practices and varying interpretations. To avoid confusion, a family should always be fed from the same source and that’s what we’ll be—a family. One day soon.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. “So, you’ll stop watching those other programs and from now on, ask me?”
“I’ll think about it,” she said as she gazed out the window.
Derrick’s grip tightened briefly on her hand before releasing it. “You’ve been talking to your cousin. Don’t deny it. The only time you get combative like this is when you’ve been around her.”
Von turned to face him. “Combative? Because I didn’t instantly agree with you but instead stated I’d think about it?”
“A wife is to obey her husband,” he stated firmly.
“We’re not married yet,” she muttered.