Page 25 of Signed, SEALed, Delivered

CHAPTER NINE

Zach

I hadn't even pressed the end button on my phone when the alarms started to wail. Ignoring the pain in my arm, I grabbed my boots and stormed to my post. Even in the bright daylight, you could see the trail the missile left behind. All the training we did, training which most of my men complained was useless as the enemy never fired at us, took over and we returned fire. Our training and Reaper being a good ol’ boy from the Appalachian Mountains who grew up, "shooting for his dinner," giving him a perfect kill record.

The colors, which lit up the already bright sky, would rival any Fourth of July fireworks display back home. Reaper said he joined the Navy to get out of the Mountains, to see the world on someone else's dime. He told me one night, while we were on patrol; he also left when he saw his best friend kiss the girl he’d thought was his. I wish I could say that was the first time I had heard that kind of story. If it wasn't a reason for leaving, it was the reason they wouldn't return home to the girl. Far too many women vowed to be patient and wait, but the true test of time proved to be too much and heart after heart was broken in the name of war.

After making certain we could offer no help to the victims of the attack, we silently made our way back to our base. Each of us mulling over the fact an organization could do something so evil to its own people. With my gear secured, I plopped down on my bed and opened my mail. I needed to escape the images that have permanently scarred my memories. Kennedy's email was dated nearly a week ago, causing my breath to hitch and my heart to speed up just a little.

To: Michaels. Zach, L.T.

From: HorseWhisper

CC:

Subject: How are you?

Dear Zach,

I have such exciting news! Jason was able to secure the shop for his tattoo business. He had me go with him after signing the contracts. He wanted me to look at the set up and help him get a feel for where to go with what is there. I was overwhelmed with ideas. I can picture the different rooms and how to make the business appealing for both male and female clients. He has met the most wonderful, yet excitable, young woman. He is completely taken with her, however he is worried what will happen when she realizes who our mother is. I won't leave you hanging on my last statement; my mother is what one would term a social climber. She spends every waking moment trying to find a new edge in the hunt for her next "new best friend." I also won't admit who the ultimate prize in this quest of hers is, on the off chance you know her.

In more pleasant news, I have an interview with the one place I want to work for. Not to say I haven't had many, many interviews, trust me when I say I have sat through so many meetings, completely set up by my mother's "friends," to keep her network functioning.

However, seeing Jason tossing caution, and his trust fund, to the wind has inspired me to cut ties with my parents. My mother purchased this ridiculous convertible for me, but I need something much more practical. I've done a search with the DMV and have happily found the car is indeed registered to me. Once I have secured gainful employment, I plan to march over to a dealership and trade the overpriced convertible for a more sensible mode of transportation.

I've been scouring the newspapers for an apartment to rent and although the money my parents have placed in a trust for me would offer me a lifestyle, which would be ideal, it would also be dull. I want to work for the food I place on my table and complain when my alarm goes off before the sun comes up, but rejoice when a client is brought to tears after they take those first steps. I don't want social status or society chairs for organizations that are more about who the president is rather than the people they help. I want to live and be a productive member of the community. I want to walk down the street, instead of riding in the back of a limo. To shop in second hand stores instead of media enhanced mall fronts. I want to know who my neighbors are instead of reading about them in the society pages. To have cookouts and dinner parties with my friends and coworkers. To marry for love and not because he works for my father.

I'm sorry...I know this sounds like the ramblings of a twelve year old, but this is how I feel. I know I shouldn't bring you into my American tragedy, but I feel as if I could tell you anything and you would cheer for me, encouraging me instead of laughing at me and telling me to go shopping with daddy's black card. I can't imagine what a day is like for you. I do pray for your safe return.

Your friend,

Kennedy

I wished I could have read this prior to talking with Jason, however I was in the mindset to get the shop up and running. I was just like Kennedy in her desire to be a productive member of society. I wanted many of the same things she did, it made me wonder. What if fate had a way of steering you in the direction you needed to go? What if two people, born into the same world, never knew the other due to circumstances beyond their control? What if I was destined to meet this amazing creature named Kennedy Forrester? Saving her email to the folder I had created in her name, I found another from her written the same day I had made a call to Savannah.

To: Michaels. Zach, L.T.

From: HorseWhisper

CC:

Subject: I’m sorry

Dear Zach,

I feel this will be my last letter to you. I want to apologize if I offended you in any way. I have a feeling; even with my attempts to keep my mother's name in the shadows, you, being an intelligent man, figured it out. I understand your desire to stay as far away from me as possible. Please, don't hold your distaste for her against Jason. He is working so hard to make the business a success. He offered me the apartment that sits above the building you guys own. I have declined and will keep my distance.

Thank you so much for your service and for being such a kind man in trying to help me. May you return safe and secure, and be prosperous in your new business.

Regards,

Kennedy Forrester

I was confused as I re-read the last letter over again. She certainly hadn’t offended me and I had no clue what she was talking about in regards to her mother. I didn't really keep up with my mother's charities and organizations. I knew she was cautious with whom she associated with, as she and my father had talked about some pretty aggressive women who behaved as Kennedy described. Closing out my email, I checked the time and then opened my Skype program. My mother may have the ability to raise millions and millions of dollars, but she was clueless when it came to modern technology. My aunt Ella, however, was a master. I knew she would be in her office or at least near her cell phone at this time of the day. I clicked on her name and waited as the line tried to connect.

"Well, good evening my favorite SEAL." My aunt's voice carried over the speakers; I had forgotten to place my earphones on so as not to disturb the rest of the guys around me.

"Aunt Ella, how are you?" I spoke softly, again being considerate of those around me.

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