Tall, Dark and Devastating: Harvard's Education

“Medgar wasn’t sure he was ready to make such a big change,” his mother told him. “We didn’t want to worry you until we knew for sure we were going to make the move.”

“To Phoenix. In Arizona.”

His mother smiled at the skepticism in his voice. “We’ll be near Kendra and Robby and the kids. And Jonelle and her bunch won’t be too far away in Santa Fe. And we’ll be closer to you, too, when you’re in California. It’ll be much easier for you to come and visit. There’s a fine community theater there—something I’m truly looking forward to. And last time we were out there, we found the perfect little house within walking distance of the campus.”

Harvard leaned against the railing on the deck, looking out over the grayish-green water of Boston Harbor. His parents had lived in Hingham, Massachusetts, in this house near the ocean, for nearly thirty years. This had been his home from the time he was six years old.

“I’ve read that the housing market is really soft right now,” he said. “It might be a while before you find a buyer willing to meet your asking price.”

“We’ve already got a buyer—paying cash, no less. I called this morning from the hospital, accepted his offer. Closing date’s scheduled for two weeks from Thursday.”

He turned to face her. “That soon?”

His mother smiled sadly. “I knew that out of all the children, you would be the one to take this the hardest. Five children—you and four girls—and you’re the sentimental one. I know you always loved this house, Daryl, but we really don’t have a choice.”

He shook his head as he sat next to her. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. I haven’t had any time to get used to the idea.”

“We’re tired of shoveling snow. We don’t want to fight our way through another relentless New England winter. Out in Arizona, your father can play golf all year long. And this house is so big and empty now that Lena’s gone off to school. The list of pros is a mile long. The list of cons has only one item—my Daryl will be sad.”

Harvard took his mother’s hand. “I get back here twice a year, at best. You’ve got to do what’s right for you and Daddy. Just as long as you’re sure it’s really what you want.”

“Oh, we’re sure.” Conviction rang in his mother’s voice. “After last night, we’re very sure.” She squeezed his fingers. “We’ve been so busy talking about Medgar and me, I haven’t had the chance to ask about you. How are you?”

Harvard nodded. “I’m well, thanks.”

“I was afraid when I called last night you’d be off in some foreign country saving the world or whatever it is that you Navy SEAL types do.”

He forced a smile. His parents were moving from this house in just a few weeks. This was probably going to be the very last time he sat on this deck. “Saving the world just about sums it up.”

“Have you told that captain of yours it ticks your mother off that you can’t freely talk about all these awful, dangerous assignments you get sent on?”

Harvard laughed. “Right now we’re temporarily stationed in Virginia. We’re helping train some FInCOM agents in counterterrorist techniques.”

“That sounds relatively safe.”

P. J. Richards and her blazing eyes came to mind. “Relatively,” he agreed. “But it’s going to keep me tied up over the next seven and a half weeks. I won’t be around to help you pack or move or anything. Are you sure you’re going to be able to handle that—especially with Daddy laid up?”

“Lena’s home for the summer, and Jonelle’s volunteered to help out, too.”

Harvard nodded. “Good.”

“How’s that young friend of yours—the one that just got married and had himself a son, although not quite in that order?”

“Harlan Jones.” Harvard identified the friend in question.

His mother frowned. “No, that’s not what you usually call him.”

“His nickname’s Cowboy.”

“That’s right. Cowboy. How could I forget? How’s that working out for him? He had to grow up really fast, didn’t he?”

“It’s only been a few months, but so far so good. He’s on temporary assignment with SEAL Team Two out in California. He had the chance to be part of a project he couldn’t turn down.”

“A project you can’t tell me anything about, no doubt.”

Harvard had to smile. “Sorry. You’ll like this irony, though. Cowboy’s swim buddy from BUD/S training—a guy named William Hawken—is temporarily working with Alpha Squad.”

“That’s that small world factor again,” his mother proclaimed. “Everyone’s connected in some way—some more obviously than others.” She leaned forward. “Speaking of connections—what’s the chance you’ll bring a girlfriend with you when you come to the new house for Thanksgiving?”

He snorted. “We’re talking negative numbers—no chance at all. I’m not seeing anyone in particular right now.”

“Still tomcatting around, huh? Gettin’ it on without getting involved?”

Harvard closed his eyes. “Mom.”

“Did you really think your mother didn’t know? I know you’re a smart man, so I won’t give you my safe-sex speech—although in my opinion, the only sex that’s truly safe is between a man and his wife.” She pushed herself out of her chair. “Okay, I’m done embarrassing you. I’m going to go see about getting lunch on the table.”

“Why don’t you let me take you out somewhere?”

“And miss the chance to make sure you get at least one home-cooked meal this month? No way.”

“I’ll be in in a sec to help.”

She kissed the top of his head. “You know, you were born with hair. You have exceptionally nice hair. I don’t see why you insist on shaving it all off that way.”

Harvard laughed as she headed inside. “I’ll try to grow it in for Thanksgiving.”

He’d already reserved a few days of leave to spend the holiday at home with his parents.

Home.

It was funny, but he still thought of this place as home. He hadn’t lived here in more than fifteen years, but he’d always considered this house his sanctuary. He could come here anytime he needed to, and he could center himself. It was the one place he could come back to that he’d foolishly thought would always remain the same.

The sweet smell of cookies baking in his mother’s kitchen. The scent of his father’s pipe. The fresh ocean air.

It was weird as hell to think that within less than two weeks his home would belong to strangers.

And he would be spending Thanksgiving far from the ocean at his parents’ new house in Arizona.

“Excuse me, Senior Chief Becker! I’ve been looking for you!”

Harvard turned to find P. J. Richards bearing down on him, eyes shooting fire.

He turned and kept walking. He didn’t need this right now. Damn it, he was tired, he was hungry, he was wearing the same clothes he’d had on when he’d left here close to forty-eight hours ago, he hadn’t been able to grab more than a combat nap on the flight from Boston to Virginia, and he’d had to stand on the crowded bus back to the base.

On top of the annoying physical inconveniences, there were seven different items that had crash-landed on his desk while he was gone that needed his—and only his—immediate and undivided attention.

It was going to be a solid two hours before he made his way home and reintroduced himself to his bed.