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“What can I get for you?” he asked, his eyes assessing me. He probably wondered why someone like me was there, with my longish hair and scruff, despite my business suit.
“I’ll have whatever’s on tap, thanks,” I said and nodded to him in greeting.
He pulled a glass for me, his skill obvious. It must have been Miranda’s grandfather.
“Haven’t seen you around before,” he said and placed the glass in front of me.
I gave him a bill. “Keep the change. You’re Miranda’s grandfather,” I said, taking a sip and watching his reaction.
He glanced up at me quickly. “That I am. How do you know Miranda?”
“We met in Topsail Beach while I was there for a retreat.”
He nodded. “You ex-military?” He scanned me, his eyes narrow.
“Marines,” I said and nodded. “Special Operations Forces. I left a few years ago and started a company. I provide security technology for businesses that operate in war zones.” I pulled out my business card and handed it to him.
“Beckett Tate, CEO, Brimstone Solutions, Inc. That’s quite the title. How do you know Miranda? She never mentioned you.”
It was at that point that I faltered. I looked away from his too suspicious eyes.
“Well, sir,” I said, my voice low. “That’s why I’m here. I fell in love with her when I was there earlier this summer. I believe she felt the same about me, but we parted on bad terms. I wanted to make sure she was all right.”
“She’s fine,” he said, but he took in a deep breath. “However, I did hear some talk from her best friend about her having her heart broken by some young man she met. The way I heard it, this young man left her without so much as a goodbye. You want to give me the details so I can decide whether to buy you a drink or punch your lights out?”
I nodded and took in a deep breath.
Then I told him the whole damn truth.
No embellishments. I told him material that could get me in real trouble if it was known, but he was an ex-cop and understood about the need for secrecy.
He leaned against the bar, listening, while I told him about my trip to Afghanistan with the CIA, to test a new comms system that used our tech, and how we’d gone into Iran and hit a roadside IED. How Dan’s unit was dispatched to rescue us. That he saved my life and lost his own, dying in a terrible fiery crash when the chopper went down in a sandstorm.
I explained how my things and his things became mixed up in the aftermath and Miranda’s letters were sent to me by mistake, because my given name was also Daniel. How I discovered them nearly a year later, read them, and was captivated by the beautiful young woman who wrote those letters.
I told him about learning that the letters belonged to the Navy Hospital Cor
psman who died saving my life. How, against my better judgement, I found myself traveling to Topsail Beach with the plan to return the letters to the Lewis family and shake their hands, to thank them for their son’s sacrifice.
I told him about falling in love with Miranda and how I kept intending to tell her the truth, but felt I couldn’t because the story they had been given about Dan’s death and the story I knew to be true were different. How I felt I couldn’t reveal the truth, no matter how much I wanted to be with Miranda.
I felt so much guilt over still being alive while Dan was dead.
I even told him about Sue and how close I had been to marrying her before she died horribly before my eyes.
I told him about meeting up with Miranda at the club and telling her the truth and how she left me in tears.
“I’m in love with Miranda, Sir,” I said. “I think I fell in love with her on letter three, but when I saw her in the bar that day? Goner.”
He was pretty silent the entire time, not passing judgement. He didn’t comment, and he didn’t change his expression, which was neutral the whole time I spoke.
When I finished talking, when I said everything I could think of, it felt so much better, but then I had this terrible sinking feeling that even given the fact I’d come clean, he would kick my ass out of the bar and tell me to never see his granddaughter again.
If he did, he had every right. I’d kick my own ass out if I’d heard my story coming from someone else’s mouth.
Finally, he put his cloth down and leaned on the bar, his steely blue eyes level with mine.
“You sure as hell screwed up.”
