The Ocean Between Us (16 page)

“Lamont,” she whispered. “You’re…”

God. She was going to do it after all. She was going to say he was wrong, they didn’t belong together.

She bit her lip, took a deep breath, tried again. “You’re…a…Navy bastard,” she said.

“That’s my girl,” he said, and leaned down to kiss her until she ran out of protests.

Lauren woke up the next morning in a haze of sexual satisfaction. She didn’t dare open her eyes for fear it was only a dream. But it wasn’t. This was her life, and last night it had taken a left turn toward the unknown.

She opened her eyes slowly, wincing at the sunlight streaming through the sliding glass doors. She never, ever slept with the drapes open like that. But what the hell, she thought, pushing up on her elbows. She never slept with Navy guys, either.

Until last night.

Her lips curved into a smile, and she glanced at his side of the bed. Funny how, in a single night, she had already designated it “his” side. The bedclothes had been tossed into an untidy pile, and for a wild moment, Lauren thought he might still be in there somewhere. But no, he had warned her that he’d be slipping out in the wee hours. He had something called “Special Training” this week because the main part of his squadron would be flying aboard the
Dominion.
Josh would be leaving, too, but not until the spring.

As if there were any comfort in that, she thought, getting out of bed and slipping her arms into the sleeves of her robe. Leaving was leaving. It was what men did when they were in the Navy.

She went to get the newspaper from the front walk. She felt tingly all over, her bare skin supersensitized to the brush of the robe. She stood there for a moment, holding the paper in its damp plastic sleeve. More than anything, she wanted to talk to Josh, to describe the strange and wonderful feelings that were sweeping through her. But she couldn’t reach him, of course. He’d said he would be incommunicado during special training.

There were more idiotic things than falling for a Navy guy, she supposed as she returned to the house. But at the moment, she couldn’t think of a single one.

A faint mew froze her in her tracks. Chills spread over her, and she turned back to see Ranger, the wandering stray, emerge from the box hedge and leap to the porch. He was damp but plump as ever, and had a white flea collar around his neck. As though he’d been gone a few minutes rather than months, he slipped inside and headed straight for his bowl in the kitchen.

Going to sea was never easy for Steve, but the worst—until now—had been leaving Grace while she was pregnant. Both times. He had never seen a child of his being born. Grace had been incredible about it, though. Back then, before e-mail, she wrote every day, stuffing the letters with photographs and loving notes, making him a part of his children’s lives before he even met them.

He thanked God every day for Grace. She made this family work. She made deployment bearable.

Now he understood that Josh’s arrival signaled the beginning of a profound change, one that had been brewing for longer than he cared to admit. They needed time to sort out the shock and confusion of the discovery, and more time still to dig out the discontent they’d both ignored for too long.

The problem was, they didn’t have time. After she walked out of the hangar, he’d simply stood in the middle of his barren office, confused as a bombing victim. The inevitable gossip gathered force like a storm brewing at sea. One look at Lamont had set off the staff. And those who saw Grace come and go so quickly were already embellishing the tale, no doubt.

Maybe he should have gone after her, but pride held him back.
He didn’t want to face all those inquisitive stares from his staff, those sudden charged pauses in conversation as he walked by. Instead, he went about his business with officious determination. He had things to do before he left. Regardless of the chaos in his personal life, nothing held back tomorrow.

Over the years the Bennett family had developed a number of predeployment rituals. They all did things to comfort themselves, to reassure themselves, to make his absence seem more bearable.

Before each departure, Steve tried to give something special to each of his children. When they were little, he might offer a jar filled with a hundred and eighty Hershey’s Kisses, one for each day he was gone. Or a bank of coins, golf balls to hit, a book filled with stories. One time, when Katie was nearly hysterical over his impending departure, he’d stayed up for an entire night to write and fold one hundred and eighty little “Messages from Dad.” He included random thoughts to make her smile: “You’re the pepperoni on my pizza.” Stupid jokes: “What has ten legs and drools?” And every once in a while, a heartfelt sentiment: “The sun’s not up until it rises over you.”

Now that they were older, it was harder to come up with some sort of daily dose of Dad. For the current departure, he had a project he’d been working on for a long time.

He was pretty sure the kids never realized how much it hurt to say goodbye. He didn’t want them to know what it felt like to leave a crawling infant and return to a walking toddler. Or to come home to a child who screamed at the sight of him—a forgotten stranger. To celebrate his six-year-old’s first lost tooth and return to a seven-year-old with a mouth full of permanent teeth. To leave his son struggling to throw a baseball and return to discover his coach had trained him to pitch no-hitters. Or to know he’d never see his daughter all dressed up for her first formal dance.

These were things Steve kept from them. He seized on the “chin up, duty calls” attitude of a career officer. Now, seated in the quiet of his office, emptied in anticipation of the move, he realized the truth. Keeping things from the people you love could not be done without cost.

Feeling both weary and unsettled, he created an envelope for each kid. The letters had been written before Lieutenant Joshua Lamont had marched into his life, but Steve decided against revising them. His sentiments had not changed.

But theirs might.

He hated that he had to tell them. But Grace would insist on it, he knew with a twinge of irritation.

When he got home for dinner, he didn’t know what to expect. In the blink of an eye, everything was different. The world he had built was now crumbling.

Grace was in the kitchen, standing at the sink with its rusty fixtures. In the ugly little house, she looked like a visiting queen, out of place and unhappy about it. At the sound of his footsteps, she turned to look at him. She wore an expression he didn’t recognize. Normally, he’d give her a kiss, and she’d ask about his day. But this was not a normal situation.

“Gracie, let’s talk about this,” he said.

“Talk about what?” asked Katie, coming into the kitchen and sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar. Her expression glowed in that special way she reserved just for him. “Hi, Daddy.”

He returned the smile, but his heart turned over in his chest. What would it do to his little Katydid when he told her about Josh?

He turned to Grace, and the hurt and confusion in her eyes seemed to push all the air out of his lungs. He was not going to get any help from her. He was on his own.

He had no idea how to fix this. He could rebuild a jet engine, but matters of the heart were a mystery to him. In every sense of the word, this was his first true family. Up until Grace and the kids, he’d had no idea what a family could be. A product of the foster care system, he’d grown up without emotional ties or a permanent home. At a young age he learned to protect his heart and keep his secrets. It was the only way to survive.

He learned never to abide failure from himself. His relationship with Cissy was a failure he refused to acknowledge. He believed he was better off living his life as though the marriage
had never taken place. Now he realized what most people probably knew all along—you’re never truly free of the past.

“Talk about what?” Katie persisted.

“About where we’re going for dinner tonight,” he said. Good answer. The last thing Grace needed tonight was to cook.

“I vote for the Dutch place that thinks it’s French,” Katie said, bouncing up and down.

“The Kasteel Franssen?” Emma asked, coming down the stairs. “It looks like a miniature golf course, all those windmills and stuff.”

“Yeah, but they have the best desserts,” Katie declared. “Mountains of whipped cream, mountains! Can we go, Dad? Please?”

“We’ll let your mother decide.” For the girls’ sake, he smiled at Grace and acted as though this was any other predeployment family dinner.

“I’ll call for a reservation.” She turned and picked up the phone. While she booked a table, he noticed the way she held one arm wrapped around her middle, as if she had a stomachache.

During the short drive to the restaurant, the kids filled the silence with their usual bright and unceasing talk. Katie shared gossip with unabashed delight. “I heard Cory Crowther asked Emma to homecoming,” she announced.

Grace swiveled around to look at Emma. “That’s news to me.”

Emma elbowed her sister. “Me, too. The dance isn’t until the end of November. He hasn’t said a word, dork, and don’t you go telling people he has.”

“I’m just telling Mom and Dad,” Katie said. “And he did, too, ask you. Or he’s going to, any minute. His own mother practically said so. She did some lame presentation for our leadership class and Erin Clune asked her right out who Cory was taking.”

In the rearview mirror, Steve saw Emma put her face in her hands. “My life is a nightmare.”

“So do you want to go with him?” Brian asked.

“Of course she does,” Katie piped up. “Who wouldn’t?”

After the incident with the beer, Steve’s opinion of Cory Crowther had slipped, even though Emma assured him Cory was
no more at fault than any other kid that night. But even if the boy was perfect, Steve knew perfection wouldn’t be enough. Nobody would ever be good enough for Emma.

All three kids started talking at once, each trying to be heard.

Steve had a fleeting thought of Joshua Lamont. What kind of kid had he been?

A weird, almost surreal feeling drifted over him, the aftermath of shock and the beginning of acceptance that his life had changed irrevocably. He glanced at Grace, his anchor, but she was turned toward the kids, discussing whether Brian should invite someone named Lindy or Candace to the dance.

“Hey, what about you?” Brian said to Katie, fending off her nosy questions. “You’re in high school now. Who’s taking you to the dance?”

“Some lucky guy, I bet,” Steve interrupted while Katie turned beet red. “Remember what we talked about, Brian. While I’m away you—”

“Look out for your sisters,” Katie finished for him, clearly grateful for the change of subject. “What is this, the Dark Ages? Emma and I can look out for ourselves, can’t we, Em?”

“Always,” Emma agreed. “But we need to give Brian a chance to feel useful.”

“I’m extremely useful,” Brian stated as they pulled into the restaurant parking lot. “Just remember that next time you need a ride somewhere.”

All teasing and squabbling stopped once they walked into the restaurant, dimly lit and decorated with a charmless seventies elegance. His children became polite dinner guests with flawless posture and well-modulated voices.

Training was everything, thought Steve. In life, as well as in the Navy. Grace had trained these kids with a subtle but powerful hand, and now poise and manners were ingrained in them. They understood the chain of command both in the Navy and in the family.

As they were shown to their table, which was set in one of the
restaurant’s self-consciously cute private alcoves, Steve heard someone calling his name. Across the room, a guy in a suit waved at him.

“I’ll be damned,” he murmured. “Excuse me for just a minute,” he said to Grace.

She nodded and went to their table with the kids. He made a detour to see an old friend.

“Joey Lord,” he said as Joey stood and offered him a hearty handshake. “I swear, I’m seeing a ghost.”

“Long time no see, you old dog.” Joey turned to the attractive young woman who was his dinner companion. “Honey, this is Steve Bennett, a former squadron mate. Call sign Lone Wolf, wasn’t it? Steve, say hello to my gorgeous wife, Haley.”

As Steve greeted her, he estimated she was about half Joe’s age and wore several thousand dollars’ worth of jewelry. Number three, he thought. Joe had endured not one but two marriages like Steve’s first one—brief and brutal. Joe had been so devastated by the second failure that he left the Navy.

The whole squadron had been shocked, because Joe’s career as an officer was taking off. He had turned his back on the chance to be squadron commander. The position fell to Steve instead. Judging by Joey’s radiant expression, he felt no regrets.

“So how are things in the private sector?” Steve asked.

“What can I say? I get paid to fly prototypes, and I’m home every day by six. I’m actually going to be with Haley when the baby comes. What a concept, eh?” He reached into his breast pocket and handed Steve a card. “You get in touch, you ever think about making a change.”

“You bet,” said Steve, slipping the card in a pocket and forgetting about it. “Thanks. I’d best get back to my family.”

“Shipping out?” asked Joe.

“Yep.”

“Good luck, buddy. Keep yourself safe.”

Steve took a seat on one of the high-backed upholstered benches. “Sorry,” he said. “Ran into Joey Lord from one of my old squadrons. He’s in the private sector now.”

“Whoa, a snake-oil salesman,” Katie said in a scandalized whisper. That was the Navy’s term for career officers who allowed themselves to be lured away by companies offering them big bucks. In the Bennett household, such an idea was unthinkable.

“I can’t believe you spoke to him,” Katie added.

“It’s not like he did anything illegal,” Brian said. “Maybe he wanted good pay and a chance to live his own life.”

“He made a commitment to the Navy.” Emma spoke up with surprising vehemence. “By the time you’re a pilot or RIO, the Navy’s invested more than two million dollars in your training.”

“How do you know that?” asked Grace.

“Some recruiter came to school to talk to the seniors.”

“I can’t believe you went to that thing,” Brian said. “It’s not like we don’t know what the Navy wants.”

“It got me out of civics class for an hour.”

“I can’t wait until I’m a senior,” Katie said.

School remained the chief topic of discussion during dinner. Steve noticed other families here, some of them for the same purpose as the Bennetts. Finally, as the promised mountainous desserts were being consumed, he caught Grace’s eye across the table.

She gave him nothing, no support at all. He had the sensation of being in a free fall with an unknown landing. Should he tell them? Here? Now? Was the restaurant too public? Grace would know. But he was on his own with this; she’d made that clear. “OK,” he said. “I need to talk about a—”

“—couple of things before I ship out,” Katie said, swirling her spoon in the whipped cream. “We’re all ears, Daddy-O.”

Grace leaned back against the upholstered booth and folded her hands on the table. This was his show. He’d better get on with it. He produced four manila envelopes and handed them out. “First, a little something for the next few months.”

They tore into the packages. “CDs,” Katie said, holding up a set of three labeled discs in plastic sleeves. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Did you make these yourself?” asked Brian.

“Every one of them,” Steve said.

“I didn’t even know you knew how to use a CD burner.”

“Your old man still has a few tricks up his sleeve. I thought I’d never finish.”

“Did you make these copies legally?” asked Emma.

“Of course. I did it at the base radio station. They’re all made from legitimately purchased originals. I printed you each a copy of the play list,” he added. “It’s in the envelope.”

“This is really special, Dad,” said Emma. “Thanks.”

Her smile more than rewarded him for the hours and hours of labor. Finding just the right songs, each one with a certain significance, had been like going on a treasure hunt. It was harder and more fun than he thought it would be. He’d recorded everything from “Rescue Me” and “Walk Like a Man” to selections by Nora Jones and the Vines.

“Pretty great, isn’t it, Mom?” Katie said happily. But a shadow flickered over her face. His little girl always tried so hard to be brave when he left.

Grace scanned the list of songs and bit her lip. “I haven’t heard some of these in years.”

Steve wondered if she realized it was the soundtrack of their marriage. He had tried to include every song they’d enjoyed together, danced to, made love to. Every song that had been playing in the background throughout the years. Fortunately, he had a good memory for music. In some of the homes he’d been placed as a boy, music had been his refuge and his solace, and he had a healthy appreciation for its power to transport a person to a better place.