“Tell me.”
Jack took a deep breath and pulled her closer, wishing the situation hadn’t gotten to this point. Not only did it feel like he was betraying Brian’s confidence, but between the kids and her accounts and the Pub, Kathleen already had plenty of other things to deal with. The last thing he wanted was to give her something else to worry about. And worry, she would. Brian and Adonia were their closest friends, and Kathleen’s big heart wouldn’t allow her to shrug it off.
But the truth was, he was worried about Brian himself. Brian was a damn good SEAL, but a SEAL depended a lot on his team to have his six, and Jack knew nothing about the guys Bri was working with. He could use a fresh perspective. Kathleen had a special gift for seeing things clearly; he was too close to the situation to be wholly objective.
He began simply. “Brian is picking up jobs on the side.”
“I know. Adonia told me.”
“Did she tell you what kind of jobs he’s doing?”
Her nose wrinkled just a bit as she thought about that. “No, actually, she hasn’t, other than to say that it was some kind of subcontracting work that required him to go out of town frequently.”
“That’s true,” Jack said carefully. “But it’s not the kind you’re thinking of. It’s off the books, covert subcontracting.”
It took only a few seconds for her to comprehend. “Oh, Jack. Why would he do something like that?”
“Because it pays well. Really well.”
She sighed, melting into him, not nearly as surprised as he would have thought.
“I wondered how they could afford all of those specialists,” Kathleen murmured. “But what has that got to do with you?”
“He asked me to go with him,” Jack admitted. “We went through the same training; we have the same skill set. According to Brian, there is a demand for the kind of work we were trained to do. Unfortunately for us, it’s not legal outside of wartime.”
“You said no.”
“I said no,” he agreed. Some of the tension in his chest eased a little. Kathleen’s soothing presence and rational acceptance encouraged him to share more. “He seemed okay with that at first, but he’s been on me about it again lately.”
“Why lately?”
“I don’t know all the details; he can’t tell me unless I sign on. But my gut tells me he’s been taking the riskier jobs, going for the bigger payouts, and he’s had some close calls. He says he’d feel a lot better having me at his six.”
Jack waited patiently while Kathleen digested that. He ran his hand along her arm, quietly relishing the soft, floral scent of her shampoo.
“Why did you refuse?” she finally asked, surprising him.
“Why?” he echoed.
“Yes, why?”
That question was not so easily answered. How could he explain something like that to his sweet, caring wife? The one who could not possibly conceive of the horrors he had experienced firsthand. The one who had lived in her own personal form of hell, not knowing if he was alive or dead, or in his case, worse.
No matter how much he wished otherwise, those things had happened. He had experienced them, and they had as much to do with making him the man he was as all the good things that had happened in his life, maybe even more so. It was the hard times that really defined a man, tested his faith as well as his mettle.
Perhaps the time had come to crack open the door that he had kept locked up all this time and share that part of himself with her.
It was the first time he’d talked about his time in Vietnam –—any of it—– with her or anyone else. Even he and Brian never spoke of what had happened. When the subject came up, they spoke only in vague generalities, never anything specific.
But Kathleen was his croie, his heart, the other half of his soul. She already knew more about him than anyone else and still loved his sorry ass. Was there to hold him in the dark when the nightmares gripped him and wouldn’t let him go. It was she who brought him back, without ever once demanding an explanation.
If he was going to talk about it with anyone, it would be her, because in a way, she was already sharing his hell.
She coaxed his head down into her lap and stroked his hair while he spoke; somehow, she’d known exactly what he needed. If he’d had to look into her eyes or see the horror his tales would surely bring to her beautiful features, he wouldn’t have been able to do it. Instead, she let him tell her in his own way, in his own time.
He didn’t tell her everything, of course, but enough that she got the gist. She held him like that through most of the night, and when he was finished, he felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
When he finally found the courage to look into her eyes, he was humbled by what he saw. Not horror. Not disgust. Not pity. No, what he saw was something far more powerful: limitless, fathomless love.
“Thank you,” she whispered, holding him close.