Page 17 of The Marine's Homecoming

"You know," Tank says, tipping his beer up again, "if you sell out to a man like that, every one of those boats goes up the coast or into dry dock."

I turn to look at Tank's glassy eyes, full of emotion he's not sharing with me, and shake my head.

"How do you figure that?" This is the only actual marina with piers in fifty or more miles of coast in either direction. Bandon may as well be a light house in the storm out there. I can't see that changing much.

"Oh, you know…" Tank rocks on his heels and shrugs his shoulders. "Men like Calvin Dorsey don't care about little towns. He's got a plan to soup this place up, maybe he'll cash in on some plots and sell it off little by little to developers.Ormaybe he'll shut every small business down and bring in one big, fancy resort… Who the hell knows? Maybe he just wants this place to ship his own products into the country."

His words make me bristle. The idea of Dorsey shutting these businesses down instantly makes me stop to rethink. It hasn't been a possibility in my mind once that things would change that much, but Tank's right. If Dorsey buys this place, or any other wealthy businessman for that matter, they'd have the right to do whatever the hell they please, and there wouldn’t be a thing I could do about it.

My dad wouldn't stand for that at all. This town may have turned their back on me for the most part thanks to that horribleaccident and what happened to Nick. But they never turned their back on my father, and he never turned away from them, either. Every choice he ever made with this land or these businesses was aimed at ensuring these fishermen and boat captains had a chance to make their living. The only way to honor him is to keep his dream alive.

"You think that'd really happen?" I jam my hands into my pockets to warm them and keep them from getting any more chapped or windburned as I eye Tank and wait for his reply.

It takes him a second and his eyes are still misty, but he turns and looks straight at me. "The guys are worried, Luke. Hell, with moving from one pier to the other, things have been messy enough. You take their jobs from them, what hope do they have left? Some of these guys, it's all they've ever known. And it ain't like Bandon has a booming manufacturing economy. Some would have to sell homes and move."

Yeah, that isn't going to happen so long as it depends on me. As much as I like to hate this town after the way they turned on me when Nick died, I can't do that to men I know more as big brothers and close friends than just businessmen and citizens. Dad would've fought for them, and if I sell off because I don't want to deal with the hassle, what sort of man does that make me?

"Well, you tell those guys their jobs are safe." As I say it, I stare out over the ocean with its white caps and deep blue waves. I know the choice I'm making, and I know what it means for my future. Choosing not to sell means staying put and sticking around. Someone has to run this place, and I can't afford to pay someone to do it.

"You're a real stand-up guy, Luke." Tank turns so he's facing the opposite way, then lays his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. "Your daddy would be awful proud of you."

I can't really respond to that much more than to nod, and he walks off, scraping his boots on the dock with every step. Dad would be proud, and I know he is. He wasn't one of those men who is thick on criticism and light with the praise. He made sure to tell me every chance he got how much he thought of me. It's one of the reasons I am the man I am today, and one of the only things that kept me from wallowing in self-pity when that accident happened.

Turning, I head back up to the office and step inside as I pull my phone from my pocket. My hands are so numb I can barely feel my fingers as I dial my commanding officer, Colonel James Harlan, to give him the news.

"Maddox," he says when he picks up. "I was starting to think you forgot about me."

"No sir." I shed my coat and drape it over the back of the chair, then ease down behind Dad's desk. "Sorry it took so long. Things have been complicated out here."

"I imagine so. How's the situation with the property?"

I rub the back of my neck and stare at the stack of folders on the desk. "That's actually why I'm calling, sir. I'm going to submit my request for release from active duty. I'd like to transfer to the IRR."

He's quiet for a second. I can hear a door close on his end and the background noise drops out, which means he just stepped into his office and shut it behind him. I know this isn't going to beeasy for him, but there's no easy way out for me, either. This is my life I'm leaving behind.

"You sure about that, Luke? Twelve years is a long time to walk away from."

"I know it is." I pull open the desk drawer and find a pen and start clicking it. "But there's nobody else to step in and I can't run this place from overseas."

"You're eight years from retirement, Son. You understand you're giving up your pension?"

"I know that too, sir." Sighing, I swipe a hand down my face and lick my chapped lips. I really thought I'd stay in longer. But no one could foresee Dad's heart attack.

He lets out a long breath, and I hear him shift in his chair. "Luke, I'm going to be honest with you. You're one of the best Marines I've had under my command, and losing you is going to hurt. But I also know what it's like to lose a father and have to figure things out." He clears his throat, but I can hear the emotion crackling in his tone. "If this is what you need to do, I'll make sure the paperwork goes through clean."

My throat constricts and I swallow against it. "I appreciate that, Colonel."

"Get your separation request to admin by the end of the week. They'll process the transfer and get you into the IRR pipeline. You'll need to do your transition readiness seminar, but we can handle most of that remotely, given the circumstances. Expect sixty to ninety days before it's all finalized."

"Yes sir," I say, already feeling the crushing weight of grief again. I just lost my dad, and now I'm losing the job I thought I'd have for the rest of my life.

"And don't be a stranger, Son. You need anything, you call me, got it?"

"Will do, sir. Thank you."

It's such an incredibly difficult decision, but I know it's the right one for the right reasons. Men like Tank, and Gary Sullivan, and even women like Hannah Brooks who depend on this property for their livelihood are trusting me to care for them the way my father would.

And now that the choice is made, I'm hoping they will come around to care about me at least as much as they did my father. Otherwise, it'll be a miserable life for me to live. But the right thing isn't always the easy thing. Dad taught me that a long time ago, and if there's one thing I'm good at, it's following in his footsteps.