Page 51 of Stone
“He doesn’t. But he was a sniper. One of the best in active duty. He has laser sighting skills.”
She wasn’t unaware of what the men and women in the military did, but Superman’s boyish charm and haphazardly wavy hair seemed at odds with Simon’s description. Then again, never judge a book by its cover.
And so it went. North’s name came from his eerily accurate internal compass, Scipio after a Roman general renowned for his battle strategy, Juan—as she’d predicted—because of his way with women, and Monk because he seemed to live like one. No one knew if he was abstinent or not, but they’d never seen him with a woman or a man. As a medic, Hawkeye’s name came from the famous character in MASH.
“That leaves you,” she said as they pulled onto his driveway.
He hesitated. “They say I’m steady as a rock.”
She studied him as he navigated the drive. She’d bet that explanation was sufficient for most people, but she wasn’t most people.
“That may be true, but that’s not where the name came from, is it?” she asked as he pulled into his garage.
Again, he hesitated. “It’s not,” he finally said before switching the engine off.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
He stared at the door leading into the house for several seconds, then turned. “I want to tell you. Or rather show you. Come with me.”
25
Stone didn’t second-guess his decision. He’d learned long ago not to doubt his instincts. Never before had anyone, let alone a woman, tempted him to share what he was about to share. Juliana had changed that. Anxious unease swirled through his body, but it was the good kind—like walking into a carnival fun house knowing you were going to be scared but also that it was safe. Juliana was safe.
They set the food in the kitchen before he led her upstairs to his bedroom. Once inside, he walked to his dresser.
“This,” he said, handing her a small silver bowl with a dark gray—almost black—stone in it. A little bigger than a quarter, it was shaped like a round loaf of bread with one side domed and the other flat.
She tipped the bowl and slid the stone into her palm, rubbing her thumb over the smooth top just as he’d done thousands of times.
“The bowl came from an antiques stall in a flea market in Germany. But the stone, the one in your hand, came from Mrs. Baxter,” he said. Her thumb continued stroking it, but her eyes held a patient question.
“The day before I left for boot camp, she took me to Mile Rock Beach for a dinner picnic,” he started. “We had cold roasted chicken, pasta salad, and watermelon. And because it was San Francisco in July, we had a thermos of hot tea along with our hats and jackets.” That elicited a smile from Juliana.
“We ate and talked about everything and nothing,” he continued. “Toward the end of the evening, she picked that stone up and handed it to me. She said she knew I couldn’t take much with me to boot camp, let alone wherever else I ended up going, but she figured I might be able to stash that little guy away with me.”
“As a reminder of home?”
He lifted a shoulder. “In a way, but more a reminder of everything I’d already faced. Of all the hard times I’d already survived. She didn’t want me to focus on San Francisco as a place but more of a…an event. She gave me that stone as a talisman but also to use as a touchstone.”
“Something to help you judge the quality of something?”
He nodded. “But thatsomethingwas me. She wanted me to use it as a reminder of the person I’d worked hard to be. To turn to it when in doubt or drifting from the right path.” He paused. “Over time, it became more. Over time, it became something that grounded me in the future, not just my past.” He paused, and she held out the stone. He cupped his hand, and she set it in his palm.
“While in the army, I became a man I liked. One I respected. Sure, I fucked up sometimes and made mistakes.”
“We all do,” she said.
He inclined his head. “We do. But I became a man who is loyal and trustworthy and reliable. A man who considers different perspectives and doesn’t act rashly. A man who is sometimes even fun,” he added with a wry smile.
“I didn’t always like what the government asked me to do,” he said. “But I grew to like myself. And the stone, the little piece of my past that traveled all over the world with me, became about the man I wanted to be, not just a reminder of the boy who’d survived.” He curled his fingers around the rock, warm from Juliana’s touch.
“I carried it everywhere,” he said. “Mrs. Baxter was right about that. It wasn’t a piece of jewelry that might get lost or stolen or a book that wouldn’t fit in my pack, or a photo that would disintegrate over time. It fit everywhere—in my pack, in the pocket of my fatigues, in my vest or shirt. And now, home with me,” he said.
“And that’s why they call you Stone. Not because you’re steady as, but because you always had it with you,” she said. It wasn’t a question, but he nodded.
“It’s next to impossible to keep secrets from your teammates when you’re Delta Force. We’re also a bunch of nosy—and observant—bastards. It didn’t take long for one of them to notice I had it with me all the time. Sometimes I’d bring it out and toss it around, sometimes I’d hold it like you were holding it and run my thumb across the top.” He paused, then shrugged. “I had in my hand enough that they noticed. And yes, that’s why they started calling me Stone.”
“And now it’s here. In your first home in a town that you live with your brothers doing work that gives you purpose,” Juliana said. Then smiling, she added, “I hope you have it always. You’re stronger now than when she first gave it to you, and you probably don’t need anything to remind you of the person you want to be—and if you did, I suspect the club would be happy to remind you?—”
