Chapter 9
Tucker had scheduled a fishing trip to Baja for early March, but that wasn’t going to change his plans to take the road trip to Sonoma County. As they were preparing, he received an enormous rent increase, so Brandy presented him with a key to her cottage.
“You sure?” He was thrilled, but surprised.
“Nope. But I think it’s time and I did ask Dad. You were right, he said he was relieved.”
“Just human nature.”
“So have you decided which poster will come with you?” He loved the way she teased him.
“I’m leaving them all behind. Why have an imitation when I’ve got the real thing?”
He’d been doing extra workouts with several new boys graduating in June, looking to enlist after the summer. His back and knees were bothering him somewhat, so he decided he’d take his time moving his stuff, do it gradually so he didn’t send himself over the edge. For the first time in his life, he was feeling his age. He could still bulk up, and work all the machines at Gunny’s even better than when he was on the Teams, but his agility and speed was lacking. He was stiff in the mornings and sometimes woke up with leg cramps.
But when Team 3 got orders to do a temporary deployment back to Baja, everything changed. The Team Guys were to work on the sex trafficking ring they had slowed, but now had flared up again. The fishing trip was still on, but Tucker was going as the real civilian, and it would be no picnic for the active duty SEALs. He’d gotten special permission after initially having his participation rejected. He was excited to be of service, even if it was logistics support, to the men he’d previously served with.
Brandy wasn’t pleased.
“I think the Navy is using you as bait, Tucker. I mean, you have to pay for your part of the trip, but you don’t really get to do whatever you want to. You have to hang with them. They should at least pay for your way down and back and the cost of the rental when you’re there.”
“I’m actually happy about spending more time with them than I would if it was a real vacation. We usually can only get two or three days, like our Sonoma trip.”
But she didn’t understand Tucker would have paid anything he could afford just to be embedded deeper within the community. He knew it was a hard thing to explain, so he didn’t try.
He was nearly settled with the move, just ahead of their road trip. He had so little furniture, only the closet revealed the secret of his residency. Brandy got rid of her bed. He got rid of the old couch. Everything else he left behind for a young recruit who was beginning his first workup in BUD/S—someone who also appreciated his stash of magazines and posters.
He offered to rototill the back lot for Mr. Cook as a thank you for letting him share the cottage with Brandy. He even offered to pay a little more in rent, but Cook wouldn’t have any of that.
Tucker fixed the clutch wires on the “mangler”, as he called the tiller, switched out the gasoline after installing a new gas tank and filter. The machine purred like a kitten. Afterwards, the sandy light brown soil looked like chocolate sugar. He imagined Cook would have a field day while they were gone, planting all his early spring seeds.
At last, they took off for Northern California, driving in one long caravan of ten vehicles. Their destination was Frog Haven Vineyards, where several of the SEALs had invested some of their re-up bonuses. Brawley told him it was run by the infamous Pirate, who had also been a member of Kyle’s squad. Tucker had never met the man.
But he’d also been on earlier road trips when he was active and knew all about Nick Dunn’s winery in Santa Rosa, which was on the way. His sister had left the property to Nick. He and Devon converted the nearly bankrupt nursery site into a world-class wedding center, lavender farm and winery. Tucker had been part of several work parties in past years, but had never seen the final result, and knew Brandy would love it.
After only two stops along the way and nearly ten hours later, they arrived in Sonoma County, not stopping until they got all the way up to Healdsburg and the famous Dry Creek Valley. Traveling the winding country two-lane freeway through the valley floor, they found it covered in blooming bright yellow mustard flowers between rows of blackened and gnarled old grapevines. Vineyard workers were cutting back last year’s growth to make way for trellising new ones. The air was lightly scented by the smoldering piles of clippings and farm debris all along the way.
“I can’t believe I’ve missed this area,” Brandy remarked. “Never thought I’d find anything prettier than Coronado, but this comes pretty close.”
“People come here from all over the world just to drive around, eat incredible food and taste great wines. Barrel tasting is really big in the early fall.”
“Sounds like Heaven,” she answered back.
“These guys have it good. Zak’s nickname is the pirate. He got injured on his first deployment, shot in the eye and is real lucky to be alive.”
“I’d say. But except for the eye, he was okay?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Were you close?”
“He came on board after I’d gone, so I never got to meet him. But after the injury, he wanted to come back. He worked like a dog and qualified Expert with his other eye, and went through most of the BUD/S training again. You don’t find many guys who could do that.”
“So he went back?”
“Well, Kyle wanted him back, I was told, but in the end, the Navy thought better of it and asked him to scratch. He met a local Realtor and they found this property and bought it, along with a whole bunch of Team Guys and their relatives. Now they’re making beer, along with the wine. I hear it’s real tasty.”
“Zak sounds like one tough dude.”
The caravan slowed down, the first car turning up a crushed granite drive, quickly disappearing from view. As Tucker began his approach up the driveway, he drove past a handful of mailboxes, and pointed out the winery sign.
“Frog Haven. That’s it. Got the Bone Frog logo and everything, not that the average tourist would know. You won’t see a Trident anywhere.”
They drove past more vineyard workers doing pruning and cleanup. A herd of small goats was grazing between several rows, hedged in by portable fencing.
“Am I seeing this correctly? Goats?” asked Brandy.
“They keep the grass down, leaving behind nutrients. A lot of the wineries in the valley are doing the same. Pretty smart. Rent-A-Goat.” Tucker could see she was amused.
“No way. Really?” she asked.
“I don’t lie. This herd is special. They make artisan cheeses the owner sells for big bucks. Your dad might even carry some in his store.”
Once they approached the top of the swale, the jockeying for parking space began, with a couple of the big trucks nearly colliding. One by one everyone poured out, stretching and adjusting themselves after the long ride. In front of them was a quaint farmhouse with a large covered porch surrounding three quarters of the sides. It had been restored to perfect condition. An attractive woman in a smock apron, with two children hugging her legs stood at the entrance. Leaning against one of the porch posts next to her was a handsome man dressed in black, sporting an eye patch over one side. It had to be Zak. Tucker was looking forward to meeting him, finally.
Brandy shuffled over to Brawley and Dorie, striking up a conversation. Kyle’s wife, Christy, ran to the porch and gave Zak’s lady a big hug. A couple of the other wives did the same. Zak and Amy’s two kids scattered into the vineyard to go play with a group of workers kids.
Tucker took Brandy’s hand and they joined the small crowd that had gathered in front of the house, just as if Zak was going to make a speech to all of them.
Instead of Zak giving the speech, it was his wife.
“Welcome to Frog Haven. I’m Amy and this is my husband, Zak. I guess the kids are around here somewhere, so be careful pulling in or backing out of the driveway, please!”
The group chuckled.
“We’re so excited to have you with us for a couple or three nights. We can sort all that out later. I don’t think Zak has been able to sleep for a week, he’s been so looking forward to your visit.”
“Thanks you two,” directed Kyle, taking charge. “Let’s give them a big round of applause for making this one of the more frugal vacations we’ve been able to take.”
The group clapped and several whistled or cheered.
Amy thanked them with a big smile. “Now, we have two unoccupied bedrooms here in the main house, but the bunkhouse sleeps twenty-four. No queen or king beds, so you’ll have to put your singles together and negotiate the crack down the middle.”
“Notice she said two beds together? No threesomes!” yelled Kyle.
After the laughter died down, Amy continued. “I’ll let you sort all that out on your own. We eat in an hour, family style out back on the other side. I’ve got some heaters but there’s no way I can feed you all in my little dining room, so wear your sweatshirts and jackets. If it’s too cold for you, tomorrow we can arrange for supper to be served in the bunkhouse.”
“Dinner attire?” T.J. Talbot asked her.
“Something you wouldn’t mind getting stained with tomato sauce. We’re going Italian all the way.”
A cheer broke out, and as the crowd dispersed, Zak called them all back.
“Almost forgot. Short showers or only the first five of you will get one. My personal favorite is sharing, two-by-two. We have a nice hot tub you can take your time and soak in after dinner, if you like.” Zak checked his cell phone. “On my mark….Go!”
The group took on the atmosphere of a church camp. The men were in sync because they were used to working together that way without anyone having to bark instructions. Tucker noticed several of the newer wives and girlfriends were completely confused, and Christy was a big help with some timely advice, discretely placed here and there.
Tucker and Brandy selected a dark corner in the bunkhouse. Wire cables worked like stringers, attached with hooks to the walls in both directions so old sheets could slide into place, giving each couple some privacy like in a hospital room. Tucker moved their two mattresses together and then re-made the bedspread to stretch over both sides. He’d been told to bring some comforters, so he retrieved them from the truck, and added them as well.
At the opposite wall, there was an old Franklin pot-bellied stove and a generous pile of wood stacked halfway to the ceiling. Several rocking chairs made a semicircle around the stove for evening chats. Against one wall was a tiny kitchen with a sink, a refrigerator, a picnic table that could seat eight and a microwave toaster oven.
But the highlight of the entire bunkhouse was the bathroom, containing a two-stall unisex toilet and one shower. Tucker was looking forward to the hot tub after dinner to work out the kinks in his neck and shoulder. He doubted he could even fit in the shower, let alone share it with Brandy.
They washed up quickly and then joined the whole group outside on Zak and Amy’s patio. Zak placed both their kids at the head of the table on a loveseat with pillows so they could see everyone. They were bundled for the ski slopes, wearing matching bunny hats.
At this time of year, the vines were bare, so the trellis they sat under left gaping holes where Tucker could see the stars. Some of the magic rubbed off when it turned very cold, with a slight breeze. He excused himself and grabbed their comforter from the bunkhouse and wrapped the two of them together while they devoured their steaming hot lasagna, green salad and a little too much red wine. With the slight buzz relaxing him, soon even the nippy night air stopped bothering him. He’d forgotten how different Northern California was from San Diego, where no matter what time of year, the temperature never fluctuated more than ten degrees.
Brandy was laughing at Christy’s story of how she met Kyle, when she attempted to hold the wrong house open and found him naked and asleep—stretched out on the master bed.
Although the ladies were last to bond as a unit, as the wine continued to flow and the stories got louder and more daring, Tucker could tell they were already well on their way to coming together on their own team of sorts. It was important that the sisterhood of the wives and girlfriends stay strong and tight, since they would help hold each other up in case the unthinkable were to happen. Dr. Death stalked them all: men, women and children. And with the world exploding more and more every day, he was making house calls at home, in the good old US of A.
You son of a bitch.
Tucker had only had to hold one of his buddies as the young man’s life passed from him. He never wanted to repeat the experience.
By candlelight, he studied the faces of those men he’d served with, and served under. He felt so lucky to have had that opportunity to be a grown up Boy Scout, doing crazy dangerous things, all the while making the world a safer place. He’d been able to push himself to his limits, the adrenaline nearly exploding from the veins in his neck, but as a force for good. Never evil. It was hard to explain to someone who hadn’t experienced it for himself. It was probably the heavy wine, but right now he couldn’t explain why he’d ever left. There just wasn’t another job on the planet as good as being a Team Guy.
Amy put on some music and the ladies rushed to their feet to dance. It was fascinating to watch how women could just be so demonstrative, so ready to just throw their heads back, laugh and toss their cares over their shoulders.
Brawley scooted over next to him, and shared part of the blanket.
“You guys are getting along most excellently, my man. Brandy’s a good influence on you.”
“Nah. I still got the dirty thoughts, same as ever.”
The two men chuckled. Brawley’s eyes were sparkling in the candlelight as he watched his new bride dance with Brandy. Christy and several of the others became the girl group backup singers, line dancing in unison to the funky rhythm from an oldies satellite channel.
“We’ve missed you, Tuck.”
“Missed you too,” Tucker returned without looking at Brawley. “So you’re staying in for another turn?”
“For now. Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have this community or these things to do with my friends.”
“I hear you.” Tucker was trying not to dwell on it. He wanted Brawley to change the subject, but it was awkward sitting next to him, wrapped in the same blanket. He was sensitive about that sort of thing. As a youth, he’d probably spent more time with Brawley than he did his own parents.
“You’ll have to hang around more when we get back to San Diego,” Brawley said just before he finished his wine. Zak placed another opened bottle in front of the two men.
Tucker read the label out loud. “Frog Haven Winery. A little piece of Heaven. That’s about how I’d describe it up here.” He was hoping the change in focus would get the discussion off the Teams.
“First time I’ve seen it all built out. When they first bought it, I thought they were nuts.” Brawley scanned the patio, smiling at the girls. “Now look at it. Piece of Heaven, indeed.”
“Thought you invested like Kyle and Coop and everyone else,” remarked Tucker.
“Nope. I bought a house with my re-enlistment bonus instead. Maybe the next time.”
“So you’re going career, like your dad?”
“I’m thinking PA school, or maybe med school, if I can get some tutoring.”
“Geez, Brawley. You won’t have any time if you do that. And you’ll owe them another ten years at least.”
“Well, it’s a pipe dream.” Brawley casually glanced at the ladies again. “They’re getting smashed.”
Tucker found this funny. “I think living here and doing this would be a whole lot easier. And no schooling or the cost of it.”
“We’ll see. First, I have to get in.”
“By then, you’ll have chipmunks running all over the place,” Tucker reminded him. “Bills, gymnastics lessons and soccer practice. You ever spend any time with Kyle and his brood, or Coop? We can hardly get them to come out with us to the Scupper.”
Tucker was convinced Brawley had forgotten his earlier remark, until his friend cruelly drove the point home again.
“Hell, Tuck. What’s stopping you? I mean Kyle says you’re paying for a vacation chaperoning the Team all over Baja next month. Some vacation. Why don’t you just re-up? Come back to us.”
“Because I’m thirty nine, Brawley.”
“So am I, nearly.”
“But I’ve been doing other things. I’m just not sure I could get through BUD/S again.”
“They’d have to give you a pass on that,” Brawley barked.
“Nope. I already checked.”
The two of them sat in the few seconds of quiet while the ladies searched for another station. In San Diego, there would be crickets on a night like this, even in February. Tucker had heard an owl earlier, but no crickets.
Brawley turned, speaking to the side of his face. “Well, you just confirmed what I’ve been thinking for the better part of five years now. Don’t deny it, Tucker. You want back in.”
He wasn’t going to make a big objection to Brawley’s remarks because that would make him look guilty as charged. But his friend had nailed him fair and square. That little confidential talk with Collins about whether or not the Navy would consider a re-entry for him was kept under wraps. But he had to go open his big mouth tonight and tell Brawley he’d checked. He wondered if he’d done it on purpose.
Wouldn’t that be something if I could do it?
Brawley stood up and positioned the entire blanket around Tucker’s shoulders and gave him a gentle pat on the back. “I think I’m going to go out there and rescue Dorie before someone gets hurt.”
Tucker nodded. “Think I’ll do the same,” and stood to join him.
Brawley grinned like he’d been told a dirty joke.
“What’s so funny?” he asked the newlywed.
“I think everyone’s gonna get laid tonight.”