The Ocean Between Us (18 page)

She went to the bathroom door and raised her fist to knock. But then she lowered it and turned away without making a sound.

In the car, the kids were alternately tense and quiet, or talking too much. Grace sensed them watching her and Steve, trying to read their moods. Steve had the option to fly one of the squadron planes aboard once the carrier was at sea, but he’d declined the offer. He’d landed hundreds of traps aboard a carrier, so the novelty had worn off, and newer pilots needed the experience.

Grace had told him goodbye in all kinds of weather, but she couldn’t recall a day quite like today. The sky was a piercing blue, the mountains glaring white peaks painted with lavender shadows. On the ferry crossing to the mainland, she stood at the rail on the
upper deck of the boxy white-and-green car ferry, staring at scenery so beautiful it scarcely seemed real. After a few minutes, Steve joined her, resplendent and remote in his dress uniform. He was the very picture of the career officer—square-shouldered and clean-cut, the hem of his perfectly tailored long coat swirling in the brisk wind. They spent a few minutes discussing routine things—banking and the kids’ schedules, car maintenance and medical insurance. In those moments, things felt almost normal.

“Grace,” he said to her, “I always felt sorry for guys who worried constantly about the home front when they were at sea. I never worry about home because you’re in charge. You know how to manage the family without me.”

“That’s the deal we made,” she said. The cold wind caused her eyes to tear up, and she brushed at her cheeks. “I look after the children, the finances, the routine of everyday life. That’s not going to change.”

“I’m worried now.”

“Me, too.” Neither of them said anything more. Hurt and anger and sadness lay between them like a fog. They couldn’t begin to clear this up. With their marriage in upheaval, the separation might do real damage, and that terrified Grace.

“I’m cold,” Grace said, wrapping her coat tighter around her. “I’m going back to the car.”

“Wait.” He reached for her, but she stepped away. “It’s not like I had an affair or did something illegal. How long are you going to make me pay?”

“It’s not about making you
pay.
It’s about admitting we have problems.”

“We do not. Unless you make it that way.”

“Oh, Steve. I do wish you’d told me. And I’m sorry that woman never informed you about your…Joshua. But maybe we need to pay attention. This was a wake-up call about our marriage. It’s time we made some changes.”

“Damn it, now you’re using this to hammer away at me about that damned house.”

“Using this? You brought up the house, not me.” Grace’s temper heated. He didn’t get it. And until he did, they’d be stuck in a holding pattern.

Someone called Steve’s name. It was Mason Crowther, his commanding officer, strolling the sunny deck with his wife and son. Watching them, Grace felt a stab of unholy envy. They looked wonderful together, their smiles as bright and open as the morning sun. They were the all-American family. She was sure they didn’t keep secrets from each other.

As they approached, her manners kicked into autopilot. She slipped her hand into the crook of Steve’s proffered arm, pasted on a gracious smile and became a creature she had eagerly trained herself to be: the Officer’s Wife.

“Steve, Grace, you remember my family,” Crowther declared, motioning them over for greetings all around. “Where are those kids of yours?”

“In the snack bar, consuming their second meal of the day,” Steve said.

Cory said, “May I be excused?”

Crowther chuckled. “Like we could stop you? Go on. We’ll see you in the car, son.”

Cory hurried inside, and his parents exchanged a look. “He’s told us a lot about Emma,” Allison said. “I think he might be smitten.”

You all but announced as much to Katie’s leadership class, thought Grace, but she held her smile in place. Somehow, they made it through five minutes of idle talk that passed for conversation at cocktail parties. Allison’s gracious smile was taut with stress.

That seemed odd, since she was an experienced Navy wife. The Crowthers had been virtually separated for years, ever since Allison insisted on staying here on Whidbey while he took other assignments. A part of Grace admired the woman for her conviction. But she guessed that the role of CAG’s wife was a difficult one for Allison. It would be hard for anyone. Though she carried no official title, she was in charge of keeping the air-wing spouses reassured, amused, organized, out of trouble and productive throughout the
cruise. Next year, if Steve assumed command, that duty would fall to Grace. The prospect sat like a yoke across her shoulders.

“So how are you doing?” Allison asked, leaning forward and resting her hand on Grace’s arm. “I know it must be so dreadfully hard…”

Grace was about to assure her that deployments were routine in her life. She’d be fine; she always was. But then the realization hit her like a blow—Allison wasn’t talking about the deployment.

Grace suddenly had trouble breathing. They knew. The Crowthers knew about Joshua Lamont. Of course they did. On a military base, gossip was high-octane fuel. Allison might have even known before Grace. She cringed at the idea of people discussing the situation, speculating, making predictions about her and Steve.

Mercifully, the ferry horn blew, the sound cracking through the morning air. “I’ll get the kids down to the car,” she said. “Captain, good luck on the cruise. Allison, see you back at home.”

Sunlight sparkled on the calm waters of the Sound. Trees clinging to the last of their autumn-bright foliage lined the roadway, and fallen leaves swirled in the ditches. The docks, pier area and secure parking lots were crammed with sailors and families, kids running wild as their parents tried to put on a brave face.

Grace looked around the familiar scene of clutching couples and crying children, and felt a jolt of panic. She was as uncertain as she had been the first time she’d seen Steve off. She was like one of the weeping brides and girlfriends surrounding them, nearly hysterical. This time, she didn’t know how to say goodbye.

She steadied herself by concentrating on the kids—Katie, whose chin was already trembling. Emma, looking shockingly grown-up as she scanned the crowd, Brian acting nonchalant. For the kids’ sake, Grace tried to act as though this were any other deployment, not one that cracked the foundations of a longstanding marriage.

She noticed a woman about her age, hugging a female sailor no older than Emma. Mother and daughter both wore looks of
brave desperation, but then the young sailor broke down and fell sobbing into her mother’s arms. Grace found herself reaching for Emma’s hand as they navigated their way toward the
Dominion,
its decks already swarming, brows leading up to the carrier crammed with personnel.

The business of getting some five thousand personnel aboard an aircraft carrier was a process of controlled chaos. Grace was always mystified as to why the Navy made the whole operation seem so cumbersome. She always thought of a hundred ways to make it quicker and more efficient, but no one ever asked her, of course.

Some personnel lived on the ship, others had boarded early and pilots would fly their aircraft aboard once the
Dominion
reached open water. Everyone else was here, saying goodbye, offering promises and reassurances, advice and encouragement, pledges of love that would have to sustain families for half a year or more. Grace heard echoes of herself in the words of women all around her: I love you. Take care of yourself. Write to me every day. Be safe, please. Keep yourself safe.

She’d said all those things many times before. She had no idea what to say now.

A TV news van was parked nearby, and a camera crew was scouting around, filming the farewells. Predictably, they were drawn to the dramatic partings—the pregnant women, the burly sailors weeping as they cradled tiny infants. A blond reporter clutched a blocky mike and recited the usual blather about men who go off to sea and the brave families on the home front.

Steve took each child aside to exchange a few final words. It struck her as a shock to see that Brian, her towheaded little boy, was now as tall as his father. The two of them embraced in an awkward hug. Grace tried to imagine what Brian thought of having a half brother all of a sudden. Perhaps, in time, he’d tell her.

Emma and Steve hugged long and hard. He whispered something to her, and she offered him a brave smile and brushed a tear from her eye. Then he moved on to Katie, who sobbed openly as she pushed herself into his arms and clung to him. Steve swayed
a little as though someone had hit him. His eyes closed as he pressed his cheek to the top of his daughter’s head.

“Daddy, I love you so much,” she said. “I don’t care what happened all those years ago. I don’t care one bit about that.”

“Of course you don’t, honey,” he said. “Thank you for saying so.”

The kids knew the drill by now. After their private goodbyes, they stepped back to wait at a respectful distance so Steve and Grace could spend the final moments together. She knew he wouldn’t break down in front of his command. She wasn’t so sure about herself.

Grace looked at her husband, with the massive bulk of the carrier rearing behind him, preparing to swallow him up. She felt confused and disoriented. She had been telling him goodbye for years; she ought to be good at it. But this occasion held a special sort of torment.

Dry-eyed, she faced a moment of clarity—about Steve, their marriage, herself. The arrival of Joshua Lamont was a mirror, as unforgiving as the dressing-room mirror with its stark lighting and inescapable angles. She was forced to see the truth: she and Steve had drifted apart long before she found out about his deception.

He hugged her tight against him, and she shut her eyes, absorbing the smell and the feel of him. He was her husband and she loved him, but now she wondered if love was powerful enough to keep them together. The thought paralyzed her.

Nothing felt right. For the first time she could remember, she was the first to step back from their embrace.

He must have noticed the shift, at least on some level, for as he gazed down at her, his eyes were troubled. “I screwed up, okay? I’m sorry,” he said, echoing his words of this morning. “One thing, Grace. I screwed up on one thing.”

His willful ignorance and the edge in his voice annoyed her. Did he really not get it? Didn’t he ever feel the discontent seeping through their marriage? Didn’t he see that she’d arrived at the middle of her life and had no idea how she’d gotten there?

She couldn’t believe he thought that “one thing” was the real
problem. But neither could she launch into the discussion now. There was no time to sort out all the old and painful history, or to figure out what to do about it. She hated that she had to wait, that her life had to be on hold until the end of the cruise.

She and Steve stared at each other, both hurt and damaged. The crowd began to separate as sailors headed for the boat. “Listen,” said Steve, “I’ll call you from the satellite phone on the boat and we can talk about this some more.”

“No,” she said. She couldn’t explain it, but she was afraid somehow that dealing with a marital crisis from half a world away might do more harm than good. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“What, you don’t want me to call?” He looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.

“I don’t know. Call the kids.”

“I always call the kids. I send them e-mails every day.”

“Yes.”

“Gracie, don’t shut me out.”

“I’m not. But I’m also not going to put my life on ice until you get back.”

“What’s that supposed to—”

A loudspeaker ordered guests to leave the carrier, and the crowd on the pier started to thin. The announcement always startled Grace no matter how many times she heard it. The whistle meant one last hug, one last “I love you,” one last look at a beloved face you wouldn’t see for half a year. One last chance to battle the terrible, silent thought that hid in everyone’s heart: he might never come back.

His fingers stroked her cheek. He leaned down and kissed the place where his hand had been, and then he kissed her lips. She shut her eyes and memorized that kiss.

“Bye, Gracie,” he said.

“Take care of yourself,” she said. This was one thing she could say and absolutely mean it. “Be safe. Please—”

The wind picked up and a warning whistle blew.

“I have to go,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. Admiral McFly was waiting for the top officers to report for ceremonial farewells.

“Yes.”

“Grace—”

The loudspeakers crackled a final advisory. Steve put on his cap and gloves, waved at the kids, then picked up his seabag and went to report to the Admiral.

Once that was done and McFly headed for his sleek black sedan, Steve went to the ship. He lifted one gloved hand in farewell, and for a moment his splayed fingers looked like a white star in the crisp blue sky. Then he slung his bag over his shoulder and walked across the black macadam surface of the pier. He headed for the officers’ accommodation brow on the starboard side, under the towering island. The huge open mouth of the carrier waited to swallow him up.

Grace didn’t dare move a muscle, because the slightest movement would cause her to melt. All around her, people wept and yelled and waved scarves and hats. A child screamed for her mother.

Grace’s gaze clung to Steve. No matter how huge the mass of sailors and officers, he was always apparent to her. She recognized the wholly unique way he comported himself, the stride that belonged to him and only him. She knew just when he would pause, turn and wave his cap in the air.

Then he disappeared from view.

And somehow, Grace managed to move. “Okay?” she asked the kids.

They nodded, though Katie still wept into her sleeve, and the four of them headed toward the car.

“You’re scheduled to take your physical aptitude exam for the Academy today,” Emma reminded Brian as he pulled into a parking space in the high school student lot adjacent to the athletics complex. “In fifteen minutes, as a matter of fact.”

“How do you know that, Miss Nosy?”

“Cory’s taking his today, so I figured you’d be in the same group.”

“Forget it. I’m not going.” He yanked the truck into Park.

The woods surrounding the school were murky with shadows. As the year slid toward winter, the days had grown depressingly short. This far north, the sun didn’t rise until after eight in the morning, and then it set before four. Today, with the rain falling thick and straight, she couldn’t remember if it had risen at all.

Emma studied her brother’s profile. He was scowling as he rifled through his duffel bag.

“It’s part of the application procedure,” she said. “You can’t skip it.”

“Watch me.”

“What’s the big deal? Are you afraid you’ll flunk?” She laughed incredulously. “Cory told me what was on the test. A standing broad jump. Chin-ups, a shuttle run, some push-ups and a bas
ketball throw. What’s the big deal? You can do that stuff in your sleep. Shoot, I bet even I can do it.”

“Then do it.”

“Oh, come on, Brian. Why won’t you take the test?”

“Because it’s stupid. It’s a waste of time. I told you, I’m not going to the Naval Academy. I’ve told everybody that, but no one believes me.”

“I believe you,” she said. “But you should finish the application. At least get the appointment so you’ll have that option. You don’t have to make up your mind yet.”

“I’ve made up my mind. I’m not going and I refuse to waste my time with this stupid application.”

She shook her head. “I’m not the one who scheduled the test. You did. You can’t stand up your ALO.”

The admissions liaison officer was in charge of guiding each candidate through the maze of application requirements. He was usually an active or retired Naval officer whose favor often made the difference between getting in and getting rejected. It was smart to stay in his good graces.

“I didn’t schedule anything,” Brian claimed. “I got a letter telling me to show up in the gym this afternoon with the other candidates. Big deal. He won’t even notice I’m not there.”

His hostility startled her. He was usually so easygoing. “Brian—”

“I’m going to be late for a Key Club meeting,” he snapped, pushing open the car door. “Look, if you’re so damned concerned about appointments to the Naval Academy, you go take the stupid test.” He shoved a large manila envelope into her lap. “Here’s all the paperwork. Go for it. Knock yourself out.”

After he left, she sat for a few minutes by herself. She was supposed to be on her way to tennis practice. She was all suited up under her sweats, but didn’t relish a dash through the rain across the athletics complex.

She was annoyed at Brian, but she also felt a reluctant admiration for him. At least he knew his own mind, which was more than she could say for herself.

She reached up and turned on the dome light of the truck. While the rain beat down on the hood, she studied the return address on Brian’s envelope. Annapolis, Maryland. It sounded so important. So…auspicious. It was a historic site, the place where the nation’s leaders were made. How could Brian not want to go there?

She took out the information booklet and application materials, and was not surprised to see that Brian had not made one single mark on anything. He hadn’t bubbled in his personal information, hadn’t written his responses to any of the questions. The dumb-ass. This was possibly the coolest future in the world, and he wasn’t even interested.

She skimmed the letter from the ALO. It was a form letter, confirming the scheduled physical aptitude test in the gym today. In five minutes, in fact. Her gaze fell on the name of the ALO, and she dropped the packet in her lap, gasping with shock. Then she picked up the letter and stared some more.

“My God,” she whispered. “No wonder he’s skipping out on the test.”