assigned to exotic ports on the other side of the world.
He liked to tell us about the time he found a big, fluffy chicken on a dirt road and he picked it up to deliver it to its owner. The local chieftain thought Jesse was stealing his prize chicken and had his warriors chase him all the way back to the ship. He had to run for his life and barely made it. It sounded as though he almost got killed from the spears thrown by the warriors running after him. But then he described the delicious chicken stew he whipped up for the crew that night and Jane and I groaned out loud.
He told that story every time he made his famous chicken stew.
I sometimes thought he made up stories just to entertain Jane, who had lost her parents at an early age. For a while, the court wasn’t sure who would get custody of her. Her grandmother lived in town, too, but Jesse knew the high-strung woman wouldn’t be able to handle the sad little girl and make her laugh again. So he made the decision and stepped forward to take Jane into his home.
That bittersweet thought reminded me that I’d lost my own mother when I was eight and Jesse had been there for me, too. The week after Mom died, Jesse planted two rosebushes along our fence, a red one for me and a white one for my sister, Chloe.
“Whenever you look at the roses,” he told us, “you’ll remember that your mama is always with you.”
Those bushes grew and flourished and flowered no matter how much we neglected the garden. And when Chloe moved to Hollywood after high school to try her luck in showbiz, she rented a funky but charming duplex near Venice Beach. The first thing Dad and Jesse did after they moved her stuff in was plant a white and a red rosebush in the tiny side yard to remind her of Mom. Those roses grew like crazy as well, and everyone in her neighborhood came by for cuttings.
I would have to remember to call Chloe tonight to let her know about Jesse. There would be more tears.
I tried to lighten the conversation. “Remember when Jesse started that betting pool at the pub over whether I’d go home with my blind date or not?”
“Yeah, he bet you’d kick him in the… you know.”
“That did not end well,” I muttered.
“Maybe not for your date, but Jesse won the bet.”
True, I thought, but my blind date ended up dead. So much for lightening up the conversation.
Jane sighed. “Remember how he used to talk like a pirate?”
“Aye, matey,” I said, and we both smiled.
Jesse had always been a little rough around the edges and his speech could be a bit salty. Maybe because of all his years in the navy, he had perfected the pirate routine. He liked to put on a tough-guy act, but he had a heart of gold and was always looking out for me and Jane.
My dad once told me that the day Jesse graduated from high school, he ran away to join the navy. He’d grown up here on the coast, so he’d been surfing, swimming, sailing, and diving his whole life. The navy made good use of his abilities, assigning him first to the Underwater Demolition Teams that were beginning to operate in Southeast Asia, then transferring him to the newly established SEAL Team One in the early ’sixties. He was deployed to Vietnam, first to train their soldiers and later to conduct unconventional warfare in the rivers and deltas of the country. After Vietnam, Jesse moved to Coronado and became a SEAL team trainer until he retired and moved back to Lighthouse Cove to reconnect with his family. Three years later, Jane’s parents died and that was when Jesse stepped in to raise her himself.
Jane smiled. “I think that scuba weekend was one of the highlights of his life—not counting all his years in the navy.”
“I think so, too. If he wasn’t reminiscing about the good old navy days, he was talking about that trip. Those guys had a blast.”
Jesse and his two friends had scuba dived for three days straight and camped out on the Sandpiper Islands at night. He still talked blissfully
He liked to tell us about the time he found a big, fluffy chicken on a dirt road and he picked it up to deliver it to its owner. The local chieftain thought Jesse was stealing his prize chicken and had his warriors chase him all the way back to the ship. He had to run for his life and barely made it. It sounded as though he almost got killed from the spears thrown by the warriors running after him. But then he described the delicious chicken stew he whipped up for the crew that night and Jane and I groaned out loud.
He told that story every time he made his famous chicken stew.
I sometimes thought he made up stories just to entertain Jane, who had lost her parents at an early age. For a while, the court wasn’t sure who would get custody of her. Her grandmother lived in town, too, but Jesse knew the high-strung woman wouldn’t be able to handle the sad little girl and make her laugh again. So he made the decision and stepped forward to take Jane into his home.
That bittersweet thought reminded me that I’d lost my own mother when I was eight and Jesse had been there for me, too. The week after Mom died, Jesse planted two rosebushes along our fence, a red one for me and a white one for my sister, Chloe.
“Whenever you look at the roses,” he told us, “you’ll remember that your mama is always with you.”
Those bushes grew and flourished and flowered no matter how much we neglected the garden. And when Chloe moved to Hollywood after high school to try her luck in showbiz, she rented a funky but charming duplex near Venice Beach. The first thing Dad and Jesse did after they moved her stuff in was plant a white and a red rosebush in the tiny side yard to remind her of Mom. Those roses grew like crazy as well, and everyone in her neighborhood came by for cuttings.
I would have to remember to call Chloe tonight to let her know about Jesse. There would be more tears.
I tried to lighten the conversation. “Remember when Jesse started that betting pool at the pub over whether I’d go home with my blind date or not?”
“Yeah, he bet you’d kick him in the… you know.”
“That did not end well,” I muttered.
“Maybe not for your date, but Jesse won the bet.”
True, I thought, but my blind date ended up dead. So much for lightening up the conversation.
Jane sighed. “Remember how he used to talk like a pirate?”
“Aye, matey,” I said, and we both smiled.
Jesse had always been a little rough around the edges and his speech could be a bit salty. Maybe because of all his years in the navy, he had perfected the pirate routine. He liked to put on a tough-guy act, but he had a heart of gold and was always looking out for me and Jane.
My dad once told me that the day Jesse graduated from high school, he ran away to join the navy. He’d grown up here on the coast, so he’d been surfing, swimming, sailing, and diving his whole life. The navy made good use of his abilities, assigning him first to the Underwater Demolition Teams that were beginning to operate in Southeast Asia, then transferring him to the newly established SEAL Team One in the early ’sixties. He was deployed to Vietnam, first to train their soldiers and later to conduct unconventional warfare in the rivers and deltas of the country. After Vietnam, Jesse moved to Coronado and became a SEAL team trainer until he retired and moved back to Lighthouse Cove to reconnect with his family. Three years later, Jane’s parents died and that was when Jesse stepped in to raise her himself.
Jane smiled. “I think that scuba weekend was one of the highlights of his life—not counting all his years in the navy.”
“I think so, too. If he wasn’t reminiscing about the good old navy days, he was talking about that trip. Those guys had a blast.”
Jesse and his two friends had scuba dived for three days straight and camped out on the Sandpiper Islands at night. He still talked blissfully
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