The Ocean Between Us (24 page)

Her body turned cold with shock. She tried to fight back, but his muscles were like iron, holding her pinned in place. His grip on her hair caused her head to throb at the temples. He kept pushing, shoving, thrusting, pressing, and it was like he didn’t even
know she was there anymore, didn’t hear her gasps of shock and terror and humiliation, her pleas for him to stop. She was on fire, but it was not the fine burn of sensation she’d felt earlier. This was pain. Pain between her legs, in her chest, her back, her shoulders.

He thrust himself at her twice more, making a caveman sound deep in his throat. He was covered in sweat and hot chlorine water, and faint light from outside gleamed over him. He convulsed and shuddered, and then he went all loose and slumped on top of her.

“God,” he whispered. “My God, that was so…oh, God.”

“I feel sick,” she said, twisting beneath him. “Get off me before I puke.”

“What the—” He got up immediately and straightened his swim trunks. She somehow managed to yank the towel around her and hold herself upright. Her entire body was shaking. Her teeth were chattering. With the towel clamped under her arms, she managed to fumble into her sweater and jeans.

“Still feel sick?” he asked, sounding like Cory again.

She stuffed her things into the tote bag.

He leaned across the bench, angling for a kiss.

She nearly came out of her skin as she jumped away. The concrete floor chilled her bare feet. “Stay away from me,” she said.

“Aw, Emma, come on. That was great.”

“Great?” she echoed, incredulous. She picked up her bag and edged toward the door. “Great? You assaulted me.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m not joking. You messed with me, Cory. You forced me. We’re both supposed to want it, but I didn’t. I told you no.”

“You wanted it. We were getting along great in the hot tub.”

“Because you were behaving yourself there. I told you to stop, but you didn’t. You pushed yourself on me. There’s a word for that and it’s not ‘great.’”

“Yeah? What word?”

“Rape.” It sounded loud and horrible in the cold, dark room. She moved even closer to the door, poised to run, to scream for help.

He laughed aloud. “Man, you are way off base. Don’t even think about crying rape.”

“I’ll think about what I want.” She turned and strode barefoot toward the door.

He moved swiftly, blocking her exit. A fresh wave of fear heaved through her, but she stood her ground.

“Move,” she said. “I’m leaving.”

“Don’t say a word, Emma. Not a goddamned word.”

“You know you went too far or you wouldn’t be acting so scared about me telling.”

“Who says I’m scared? We’re just two kids, drinking and having a little fun on the weekend. No big deal. And you know, it just occurred to me that you’re over eighteen, and that makes you a legal adult. I don’t turn eighteen for two more weeks.” He laughed briefly. “So technically, you committed statutory rape against me. Poor little old me.”

Emma’s head felt light as her stomach churned. She had planned to buy him something special for his birthday.

“But seriously, Emma,” he went on, “if you try to make a federal case out of this, I’ll tell the truth. We had a date, maybe drank a little and then had sex. Big deal. That’s exactly what happened.”

Her throat burned. “I told you no. I told you to stop.”

“That’s not what I heard. Christ, you’re blowing this all out of proportion. Do you know what a stupid mess this could turn into if you decide to start spreading lies?”

“I’m not the one who’s lying,” she said, but her voice was a shamed whisper.

His eyes narrowed. “Your father’s under my father’s command. You don’t even want to think about what would happen if you start talking smack about me. You wouldn’t do that, baby. I know you wouldn’t.” He brushed his knuckles gently over her cheek.

His touch made her skin crawl. She jumped back. “I told you to get out of my way.”

He stepped closer. “Emma, you’re so pretty. I’m sorry you
didn’t think it was good, but next time it’ll be better. I’ll go slower. I’ll make it good. I was just all excited this time.”

Despite the chills rolling through her, she broke out in a sweat. She opened her mouth to say something, but the sick terror inside her erupted. A fountain of puke spewed out of her, right onto Cory’s feet.

“Gross.”
He sprinted across the deck and jumped into the nearest hot tub.

She wiped her face with a corner of her towel. Drunken laughter drifted from Darlene’s apartment. Emma knew she couldn’t go back there. Making a split-second decision, she scooped up her bag and raced across the parking lot. Her bare feet didn’t feel the cold bite of the asphalt. She just ran on and on, crossing the ball fields and skirting the hangar area of the base, then speeding up the hill.

Once she reached her destination, apprehension set in. She waited for a long time in front of the BOQ. The glow of sodium-vapor lights turned the parking lot a murky amber streaked with shadows. Now and then a car drove up, sometimes a motorcycle. She shrank into the darkness, avoiding detection.

Maybe she should go. Maybe this was a bad idea. There were lights on in the lobby of the building, and in many of the windows. The apartments were filled with men, young men. Men like Cory.

She was about to embark on the long walk home when a dark-colored minivan pulled into the lot. Too late to escape now. She was trapped. But at least she wasn’t scared anymore.

“Emma?” Josh Lamont slammed the van shut and hurried over to her. “Hey, what’s the matter?”

She refused to break down and cry, even though she wanted to. Needed to. So badly.

“Nothing’s the matter,” she said. “It’s just…um, I’m sorry to bother you. I know it’s late….” She struggled to keep her voice steady. She had no idea where it came from, but a spine of cold steel kept her upright. “Can I have a ride home? Please, Lieutenant Lamont?”

“No problem.” His gaze flickered over her—the dress stuffed into her bag, her bare feet, her hair still damp from the hot tub. “Emma, are you sure you’re all right?”

For a moment she nearly panicked. Did she smell like puke? Could Josh see what Cory had done to her? She was terrified that the truth was written like obscene graffiti all over her face. Her body, her soul.

She lowered her gaze to the ground. But at the same time, she held herself very stiff and straight because the urge to shake was almost overwhelming.

“What’s going on, Emma?”

“I need a ride home. I was with a group of kids tonight and didn’t bring my car.”

“Let me guess,” Josh said. “Your designated driver had a little too much fun.”

“I suppose you could put it that way.”

“Let’s go.” He headed for the ugly minivan, which was parked amid the Corvettes and SUVs that belonged to the other officers. In a strange way, she admired him for driving a car that was so uncool.

She hopped in and strapped on her seat belt. Her whole body ached. That was strange; she didn’t remember Cory doing anything overtly violent. But she felt as though she’d just survived a beating.

“I saw you at the Captain’s Quarters earlier,” Josh said as he pulled out of the parking lot.

She nodded, though it seemed so long ago. The person who had sat at a linen-covered table with Cory Crowther, who had seen Josh and some woman across the room, no longer existed.

“We went to dinner before the dance,” she said.

“I hope you had a good time tonight.”

She could not imagine how to respond to that. He was mercifully quiet for the rest of the drive. No how’s-school-how’s-work chitchat for him. Emma was so grateful for his silence, because she was pretty sure that if she had to talk any more, she’d break open like a dropped coconut and everything would spill out of her.

She nearly wept with relief when he reached the intersec
tion of her street. “Could you drop me off right here at the corner?” she said.

Josh didn’t question her as he pulled over. She muttered her thanks, then made her escape, running lightly down the cold concrete sidewalk and letting herself in the back door. Her luck held as she skirted the moving boxes, tiptoed upstairs, slipped into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

She wanted to forget the whole thing. Better yet, she wished she could rewind the night back to the point where everything went bad. She wished she could just walk away at that point. Instead, the incident with Cory—the rape—played over and over again in her head. The memory clung to her like a stain she couldn’t wash out, no matter how hard she tried. But she stood beneath the shower nozzle, scrubbed herself raw and vowed she would never stop trying.

Grace was listening to Katie’s third account of the dance when she finally heard signs of life upstairs. It was noon, and Emma had apparently decided to get up.

When she heard the shower come on, Grace frowned.

“Something the matter, Mom?” asked Katie.

“She’s taking a shower.”

“Off with her head.” Katie made a chopping motion with her hand.

“I don’t care if she takes a shower. It’s just odd. I woke up after midnight last night, and she was taking a shower then, too.” Grace had gotten up, asked if Emma was okay. Emma had waved her off:
I’m fine. Go back to sleep.

“Maybe she came home soaking wet because they were jumping off the dock at Mueller’s Point again.”

“This time of year? It’s freezing.”

“I never said she was smart.”

“You wouldn’t. So are you all packed, kiddo?” she asked Katie. All week long, Grace had been ferrying things over to the new place. She had a team coming this afternoon to handle the furniture and large items. She’d sent Brian ahead to supervise the crew she’d hired.

“Every scrap,” Katie said. “I even brought some of the carpet fuzz.”

“Very funny.”

“Actually, I should check the top shelf of my closet.” Katie headed for the stairs.

Grace stood alone in the empty kitchen of the house that had never been her home. A Dwelling Unit Inspection form was stuck to the fridge. By the end of the day every item would be checked off. She had stood in rooms like this, amid boxes and bundles, many times in the past, but she had never felt the emotions that engulfed her now. She’d moved without Steve’s help before, but never without his support. She was elated and terrified. Although she was supposed to be an expert at relocation, this was not easy for her.

Emma finally came down, sulky and silent except for the loud stomp of her feet on the stairs. She was dressed in shapeless gray sweats, and she smelled as though she’d availed herself of every brand of soap in the house.

“Good morning, Merry Sunshine,” Grace said. “Ready for moving day?”

“I guess.” She looked pale, probably from lack of sleep. As she went to the fridge and took out a carton of juice, Grace noticed that she moved a little gingerly.

“All right, young lady,” Grace said. “Let’s hear it.”

Alarm flashed in Emma’s eyes. “Hear what?”

“I want to hear all about last night.”

Emma’s mouth moved, but no sound came out.

“No need to panic. I’m not mad about what you did.”

Emma sagged back against a moving crate. “You…you’re not…”

“If you want to go jumping off docks into ice-cold water, that’s your business.”

“Oh. Well, it won’t happen again,” Emma said. “I swear, it will never happen again. Ever.” She left the juice on the counter and busied herself with the boxes, suddenly a productive worker bee determined to get the job done.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” She hefted a box of books. “I swear, Mom.”

Grace watched her thoughtfully. It wasn’t easy, having her kids turn into adults before her eyes.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Grace had fleeting glimpses of a muscle-bound crew, a fast-food lunch, multiple trips back and forth between houses. By nine that night, she stood in the new house—her home—amid a maze of boxes. She knew she ought to be dead tired, but instead she felt restless.

She wondered where all of this newfound energy came from. The old Grace tired easily and went to sleep early. Lately she couldn’t wait to get out of bed, and stayed up long past
Letterman.
She was like a bulb warmed underground, bursting into bloom in springtime.

But still, sometimes she woke up in the middle of the night to find herself holding Steve’s pillow against her, praying some of his smell had lingered there.

Brian and Katie were upstairs in their respective rooms, organizing their things.

Emma stood at the window, her hands cupped around her eyes so she could see the city lights at night.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Grace asked.

“Yeah.” Her breath had left a ghostly circle on the window. “I still can’t believe you went ahead and did this all by yourself.”

“I do everything by myself when your dad is at sea. I always have.”

“This is different. Mom, this is getting too weird.”

“Oh, baby. This feels weird to me, too. When your Dad gets back, we’ll sort it out.”

“There’s nothing to sort out. I can’t believe you’re pissed off because some woman didn’t tell him she had his son. None of that was his fault, and it’s not J—Lieutenant Lamont’s, either. Lots of people I know have half brothers and stepsons, and it’s no big deal.”

“You’re right,” Grace said. “It’s not. That was a shock, but…It’s complicated, Em. We’ve had incredible adventures, but you know what? I’ve decided to do something different, and this is the start.”

“Great,” said Emma. “You’re trying to be happy on your own so you won’t need Daddy anymore?”

“Em, it’s not like that.”

“Then how come it feels like that?” Her eyes burned with anger as she headed for the stairs, picking up a box of clothes to take up. “I’m going to bed. I need to be up early.”

“Emma? Is something else the matter?”

She paused at the bottom of the stairs, her shoulders stiffening. “No. Nothing.”

“You didn’t have much to say about the dance. How was it?”

“Okay.”

“Just okay?”

She balanced the box on her knee. “I need to get busy. See you in the morning.”

Grace let her go, hoping that whatever was troubling Emma would slip away in the night. When she was younger, she always got over her anger quickly. Emma missed her dad, Grace knew. Usually it was Katie who took Steve’s absences the hardest. But lately, it seemed, Emma was struggling the most.

Things were different now, and Emma had clued in to that. The damage was rippling outward, touching each one of them. It was hard to believe this could happen to them. Grace and Steve used to be madly in love, there was no question about that. But as the years went by, both of them seemed to have forgotten to tend to their fragile bond. Between his demanding career and her absorption in raising three kids, they had lost each other. They hadn’t paid enough attention to their marriage, hadn’t nurtured their love. They’d both tacitly assumed it would thrive on neglect like a weed in the garden. The years wore away the shiny newness of their passion, etching it with scars.

She cleared a space on the sofa and sat for a long time in the dark so she could see the lights glimmering on Camano Island across the water. I wish you’d wait, Steve had said.

He didn’t get it. That’s what she’d been doing for a long time. She sighed and took a basket of linens upstairs to make up her bed.