He looked up at her and raised his wine glass. His tanned face and neck contrasted with the white muslin shirt he wore, his dark and silvery hair blowing in the breeze. If there ever was a picture of a Greek god in the flesh, Marco was him. His body had healed. He stood straight, his massive shoulders wide and firm, with only a slight limp and only occasionally used his cane. She had never seen him happier, loving the project they were working on—both—and making the most of their new life together.
Marco and David, their chef, looked like long lost friends. Their conversation was animated, they kidded with each other, and probably told war stories of their different lives. It was just fun to watch Marco throw his head back and laugh. He was no longer the troubled, tense former anything—whether it be a SEAL or billionaire. He was just the Marco she loved, working on things he loved in a place he loved.
The chef insisted he bring the platter of grilled vegetables and seafood up the steps himself. Marco was still careful about walking up and down stairs without his cane, but tonight he used it for balance, since these stairs did not yet have handrails.
David lay the platter down amongst the flowers and candles, explaining all the variety of fish and shellfish he’d grilled, pointed out the vegetables and motioned to several dipping sauces he had prepared, some with yogurt and others with spicy oiled mixtures, tamponades, and sauces. Beneath the table, he’d brought some of his signature whole wheat French bread in a large, unsliced loaf. He held it up over the dinner feast, and broke it in two, handing one to Marco, and the other to Shannon.
“You have butter here as well. But it’s excellent for soaking up all these lovely juices. Have fun!”
With that, he bowed, and left down the stairs, and drove away slowly.
“Wow!” Shannon squealed. “I have never seen anything so beautiful. Even crab, small pieces of corn on the cob, and sausage.”
“He said the sausage is very hot,” Marco reminded her.
“So, I think I’ll try some crab and butter, with some bread.” She broke a piece off, used a cherry picker to place the crab meat on the butter-soaked bread and tasted the orgasmic flavor of the grilled meat enhanced by the ocean salt air and the gentle wind flowing onshore.
Marco watched her, his chin in the palm of his hand, not interested in doing anything but watching her enjoy her food.
She stopped. “What? Is something wrong?”
“Absolutely nothing’s wrong. What could possibly be wrong?”
“Don’t you want to just dive in?” she asked him.
“No. I want to watch you do it first. I will, trust me, I will.”
He took her hand across the table and kissed her palm. Tracing the lifelines coursing back and forth there, he said, “Tell me about the angel. Dr. Patel said there was an angel who helped him fix me. Did you see anything like that?”
He looked up and directly into her eyes. His gaze could not be denied. He wanted an answer.
Shannon stopped chewing, swallowed hard. Staring back, she took a deep breath and whispered, “It was Em, Marco. I could feel her when I asked that she help you. I told her it was too soon for you to join her again. I asked her to send you back. And she did.”
Marco stopped tracing her lines, but other than that, didn’t react. “Not exactly. I came back of my own choice. I didn’t sense her at all, but I don’t doubt that you did. And I think she knew I wanted to stay, to stay with you.”
Shannon watched his face illuminated by the orange and red sky, soaking it all in. Her eyes filled with grateful tears. She could hardly express what she was feeling.
“You came back for me?” She felt ridiculous for asking but wanted to hear it one more time.
“You are the light of my life. We were made to be together, Shannon. I came back because you are the only one I have ever truly loved. It will always be that way.”
She was speechless. So, he added, “It’s where I belong, where I’ve always belonged.”
She didn’t want to break the magic of the moment, but she needed to tell him what was in her heart. “I knew this, what we have now, would be my destiny right from that day you gave me the flower from her grave. I felt it, not like a twelve-year-old, but as a full-grown woman I am today. I saw this day, felt it in my heart, deep inside my bones. I never forgot that feeling growing up, even as I was grieving Emily’s passing. I held onto it in that special place reserved for only you. It sustained me, Marco. And it drew me back to you. I had to see if it was real. And it was.”
He turned to face the gulf, tears streaming down his cheeks.
She sat back, both hands now folded in her lap, unsure how to proceed. He was searching the horizon, and then finally he spoke. “I think what makes life so special is that it doesn’t last forever. It’s rare. And so beautiful. And love is worth all the risk. It’s worth protecting. I’m going to make an artform out of it Shannon.”
They picked at their food, then placed the tray back in a zipper case provided by the chef, or they’d be sharing it with sea birds later. Hot lemon-scented towels had been provided which Shannon felt she needed all over, but it did the job on her hands, forearms, and face.
Marco came around the table and took her hand, walking them both down the stairs of their new dream home, to the dunes and the surf beyond. There was just enough light to make out the outlines of the clouds and still see some stars beginning to pop out of the deep turquoise of the sky.
The surf was warm on their bare feet. No one else was on the beach, yet they knew there were protectors in the dunes. Two tall white egrets and a battered old sea gull studied the waves, perhaps waiting for someone to come for for a visit from the ocean.
His tender embrace and kiss lingered a lifetime. Her knees were weak, water splashed up to her knees and she didn’t care. Her arms wrapped around his body. “I’m never letting you go,” she whispered.
“You couldn’t push me away. Not possible.”
They’d worked hard these past four months. Diligent with his exercises, his bones had healed and the terrible gashes that were stitched up completely covered over. All the scarring remained, but he could walk straight, his hip and knee no longer bothered him, and he continued with his PT work to such an extent that he was cleared to do some weighted squats and possibly some running eventually. But slowly, day by day he was recovering even better than before.
The Trident Towers was filling up fast with reservations. Some vet groups came to help with the construction, sometimes for a day or two, sometimes for a week. Their development group had helped train other construction companies and developers to copy their plan and facilitate having towers built in their communities. It was the best kind of giving back Shannon could think of. Khalil and Absalom became used to giving interviews, even drumming up support for the upcoming project in Africa, which they were proud to be made Construction Managers of.
She thought about all these things as they ascended the stairs again and sat on the top step.
“Whoever knew Khalil and Absalom would turn out to be great team members. What a rocky start they had,” she whispered. “I think of all the arguments they had with our team to begin with.”
“They had to learn that respect is something you ear, not what you’re born into. That was a hard lesson for them. I could have easily sent them back for attempting to fire trusted members of our group. And I let them know if they made me choose between them and my team, I’d chose my team any day. They had to hear and confront that.”