The Ocean Between Us (8 page)

Yet when he lifted his gaze to her, his expression was one of total incomprehension. Clearly he needed remedial work.

Grace took the flyer from him and set it aside. She’d never understood how he could frustrate her and turn her on all at once. “Well?” she whispered, turning to nibble at his ear. “Do you like it?”

“I get the idea there’s only one right answer to that question.” He slipped his hand inside her robe.

“I want it,” she said.

“Me, too,” he agreed.

She pushed his hand away. “Really, Steve. I want to buy this house.”

He fell still. “Gracie, we’re only going to be here a couple of years. Three, max. Then we’ll be stuck with a house here.”

“You don’t get stuck with a house. You own it. You live in it. It’s where you go at the end of the day—”

“Not if you’re transferred to the Pentagon.”

His career again. She used to find it so exciting, used to look forward to each new assignment. But lately her thinking had shifted. She wanted permanence. She wanted a home. “It’s time, Steve. I need something of my own for when the kids are gone. A place we can always come back to, an anchor.”

“What if we have to sell it and it doesn’t sell? How can we take that kind of risk?”

She couldn’t help it; she laughed. “A risk-averse Navy pilot. Who knew?”

“When I’m on the job, I put myself at risk. But this could affect the whole family. The kids are going to college. Sure, Brian is headed for the Naval Academy, so there won’t be any tuition for him, but…”

Grace figured it was the wrong time to set him straight about Brian and the Academy, so she bit her tongue.

“But what about the girls?” he asked. “Even with what we’ve set aside, it’s going to be tough enough paying tuition. This isn’t the time to be taking on a big mortgage.”

“No, it’s not the time. We should have done it years ago. The down payment can come from my grandmother’s estate, and we can easily qualify for a VA loan.”

He blew out a long-suffering sigh. “If you absolutely need a house, let’s find something in our price range. This is waterfront property. It’s twice what we can afford.”

“We’ve been saving for years.”

“Look, we had a plan, Grace. We were going to wait.”

“I’ve changed my mind. I want this house, Steve. That’s what people use their money for. It’s what they save for.” She held back
from pointing out that everyone else their age seemed to be homeowners, many of them on their second or third home.

He scowled at the list price. “I know you’re a genius with the budget, Grace. But a house—” he pushed the flyer away from him “—was something we always said we’d talk about…later. And this one is completely beyond our means.”

“What if I found a way to afford it?” she asked.

“What are you talking about?”

“I could work.” The idea had been simmering inside her even before her encounter with Marcia. Now a new sort of energy heated up. This was a possibility, not a daydream. Maybe she should have approached Steve differently, eased into the topic with him, but like he said, he was leaving. At the moment, he was glaring at her as though she was the enemy.

“I’m not a traitor,” she said. “This is not some wacko idea I’ve had. And I’m not talking about a part-time clerical job on base somewhere. It finally hit me today. There’s something I’m good at, and I could actually make a career out of it. I’m going to be an executive relocator.”

“A what?”

“Executive relocator—someone who helps people move. In the civilian world that’s worth something.”

“It sounds sketchy to me.”

“Don’t you dare be condescending.”

“I’m being practical. Setting yourself up for business is a long-term proposition.”

“These days a business can be run almost entirely from the Web.” She sat on the edge of the bed and hugged her knees up to her chest. “I don’t need a physical location, just a virtual presence on the Web, a voice on the phone. I’ve been doing it for years as an ombudsman, anyway.”

“I know that, Grace. You have incredible talent. Hell, I’ve seen you juggle schedules and plan a move like an air traffic controller. I’ve seen you find schools for kids with special needs, boarding kennels for dogs and parrots and drug rehab for more personnel
than I care to remember. The families of the air wing need you. You’re too damned busy for a regular job.”

“Will you listen to yourself?” she said, incredulous.

“Grace, honey, I don’t want you to have to work for a living. That’s my job. I want you to be here for the kids.”

“While you were out they grew up, Steve. They don’t need me home twenty-four hours a day anymore.”

“Maybe I need you there, Grace. Did you ever think of that?”

“My God, no. I can honestly say I never did. It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

He pulled on a pair of boxer shorts and paced the room. He always got restless when something was bugging him.

She found herself staring at his chest. Between his perfectly sculpted pecs nestled a St. Christopher medal he never took off. She’d once asked him where it came from. He said someone gave it to him just before he went to sea for the first time. Now the dark hair on his chest was sprigged in gray, which she found unaccountably sexy. Why was it that he seemed to become more attractive as he aged, while she just seemed to turn soft and faded? It wasn’t fair. He didn’t need his looks. He had everything else.

“It’s not that we can’t afford it,” he said. “We can, if we’re careful. But years ago, we agreed that owning a house doesn’t fit our lifestyle. When I retire, we’ll go anywhere you want. That was always the plan.”

“Plans can change.” Once upon a time, she had agreed with him about the burden of a house, given their way of life. But once upon a time was long ago.

“When did you change the rules on us?” She tried to answer, but he cut her off. “A house is a burden. A financial hemorrhage. What’s the point of buying a place when we’re moving in a few years?”

“What’s the point? How about our future? How about doing something for us instead of the Navy for a change?”

“I thought you were on board with our long-term plans. You’ve raised the three best kids in the world. I’m riding high in the Navy. What can a career for you add to that?”

“I can’t believe you just asked me that.”

“I can’t believe what you’re asking of me.” He opened a dresser drawer and started rummaging around. “Why now? Why this house?”

“There’s something about it, Steve. It’s special. At least come and see it with me.”

“It’s pointless, Grace. A waste of time.”

“I don’t need your permission to buy a house,” she said.

His back stiffened. “You wouldn’t do that.”

She had no idea whether she would or not. He seemed a lot more sure of her than she herself was.

“We both agreed that we wouldn’t get a permanent house of our own until I retire,” he repeated.

“So retire, and we’ll buy the house.”

“Very funny, Grace.”

“Maybe I wasn’t joking.”

He yanked a T-shirt over his head. “Yes,” he said. “You were.”

“It’s the last official night of summer,” Emma said after they dropped off Katie and Brooke at the theater.

“How’s that?” Brian asked, jiggling his knee as he signaled to pull out into the road. Even while driving, he never sat still. He was always drumming, tapping or somehow moving around. It drove his teachers nuts, but his coaches appreciated all that excess energy.

“Dipshit,” she said. “School Monday.”

“Yippee.”

“So not only is it the last night of summer, it’s the last Saturday night before senior year.” The last time she’d go school shopping with her mom and Katie, the last time she and Brian would head out into a clear, cool night, looking for a fitting way to mark the end of summer before they went their separate ways.

He eased out onto the road. “Yeah, so?”

“So nothing,” said Emma, tucking away an old feeling of exasperation. “It was just an observation.” Sometimes she wished her twin had been a girl. Brian was such a guy. So dense and literal.

“We should make the most of it, then,” he said a moment later, surprising her. “Where’s the party?”

“Mueller’s Point,” she said, “as usual.” They knew all the
common rendezvous points, because they’d had the entire summer to figure out the social scene. Both twins were adept at making friends quickly and easily, wherever they went. It wasn’t a gift, exactly. It was a survival skill. Moving every couple of years, you either learned to adapt and settle in fast, or you died the slow, excruciating, life-scarring death of the social outcast.

The life of a Navy brat was not for wimps. By the age of six, she and Brian had learned to reconnoiter a place, move in and make their mark in just a short time. The system wasn’t flawless, but it worked pretty well. To this day, she still kept in touch with a handful of kids all over the globe, kids she’d met and brought into her heart, shared a warm but temporary bond of friendship with before moving on. It was frustrating sometimes, because every once in a while, she really clicked with someone, only to have to leave just when it felt comfortable to share her life with that person. Each time she moved away, the goodbyes were filled with heartfelt promises: I’ll never forget you. I’ll write every day. I’ll come back to visit each year. Even though delivered with absolute sincerity, the pledges were never fulfilled. Not even once. Emma figured that was life for you, an unending strain of farewells and false promises.

“I guess it is pretty weird,” Brian said as he drove toward the waterfront county park. It had a boat ramp, a dock and a fire pit on the beach. Over the summer they’d learned it was the favored hangout for a sizable group of kids. “The thought of no more school, ever.”

“Except college,” she reminded him.

“Right. College.” His voice sounded flat and glum.

“Quit pouting,” she said. “You’ll be playing baseball and running track. How bad can that be?”

“Dad wants me to go to the Naval Academy.”

Her brother would be offered an appointment, of course. He was a shoo-in. But getting the appointment was only the first hurdle. Getting through was the harder task. Unlike Brian, Emma had always been fascinated by the process. It took everything you had, and more. It took a willingness to give up your whole life,
to surrender everything that made you unique. You had to make yourself over in the image of the Navy. A warrior with a spine of steel. And a degree in engineering.

“It’s not such a bad idea, Brian.”

“Geez, not you, too.”

“It’s a hell of a deal. You get an education and a job, guaranteed. An awesome job, by the way.”

“And Dad gets his son in the Naval Academy,” Brian said. “That’s what it’s all about, and don’t pretend it isn’t.”

“Well, sure it is, but so what?”

“He wants it for him, not for me. He never got to go to the Academy, and he thinks sending me there will fix it.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“I could run off and join the circus.”

“Right. You could call your act World’s Dumbest Brother.”

“Well, hell, Emma. I’m eighteen years old—”

“Really? I never would have guessed.”

“Very funny. What I’m saying is, when does it get to be my life? When do I get to do all that Goethe shit about going confidently in the direction of my dreams?”

Although she had the urge to laugh at him, Emma was caught by what he said. “You should be doing that now.”

He was quiet for a while as he drove. The night swished by, a streak of stars above the treetops. Finally Brian said, “I am.”

“You are what?”

“Going for what I want, not what Dad wants.”

“Art school, you mean.” Emma felt a grudging admiration for him. He’d wanted that forever.

“I need to take my shot.”

“I know. But Dad will say it’s not practical, that you’ll never make a living doing art. And maybe he’s not so wrong, Brian.” She thought about her brother’s magical drawings. He created new worlds, whole universes with such clarity of vision that sometimes she believed they were real places. “But then again,” she added, “maybe he just doesn’t want you to be a starving artist.”

“It’s my choice to make it work or fail, not Dad’s. Being a starving artist is a lot more appealing to me than the Navy.”

Emma said nothing, but she knew one thing for sure. Brian would never go to the Naval Academy. His hero was Robert Crumb, not John Paul Jones.

“So have you told Dad yet?” she asked.

“Idiot. Of course not.”

“Are you going to tell him before he goes on deployment?”

“Hey, how about worrying about your own plans for a change?” Brian asked, parking the truck.

“I don’t have any plans, so I’m not worried.”

He shook his head. “You’d better start playing the lottery, then.” He grabbed a jumbo bag of Chee-tos—his contribution to what was loosely termed a “party”—and took off without waiting for Emma. That was fine with her. Brothers and sisters didn’t go to parties together.

All their lives she and Brian had struggled with this. On their fifth birthday, they had thrown themselves into a jealous row that didn’t end until Emma sank her teeth deep enough in Brian’s arm to draw blood. After that year, they’d always had separate parties, one supervised by their mother, one by their father unless he was at sea. In that case, someone else would step in, usually another Navy mother.

Their rivalry was typical of twins, according to the experts. Emma knew this because her mother had read everything ever written about twins.
Parenting Twins. Educating Twins. Raising Twins as Individuals.
There was a whole body of literature out there, it seemed, to enable twins to feel normal.

It was dumb to pretend there was nothing unique about twinship, she thought, putting on lip gloss while studying her mouth in the visor mirror. Being a twin wasn’t normal, but it didn’t have to be a problem if you didn’t feel like making it into one. Now that they were practically through high school, it wasn’t such a big deal. But that still didn’t mean she felt like showing up at a party with her brother.

The action was in full swing already. A group of kids sat around a big bonfire, and music roared from someone’s car stereo. Bottle rockets left over from the Fourth of July whined and popped. A few grocery sacks and ice chests hinted that the foray for beer had met with success. The last of the daylight lingered on the water, flickering with the motion of the waves.

The sight of her friends gathered around a beach fire lifted her spirits. The glowing logs gave off a peculiar aroma, and the lively yellow flames illuminated about a dozen kids, mostly seniors. They were a mixture of Navy kids and locals who knew their way around.

Driftwood logs, smoothed and bleached by storms, lay like giant pickup sticks along the rack line of the beach and provided seating around the fire. Brian had already eased into the group and was sitting between two varsity cheerleaders. Girls were nuts for her brother’s goofy charm, his looks and the offhand kindness that was second nature to him.

As she stepped into the circle of light Cory Crowther stood up to greet her. She liked that. He was also sports-hero handsome, with big shoulders, a great smile and probably an ego to match, but he seemed to genuinely like her. Although he’d been away most of the summer, everyone knew him—captain of the football team, son of a Carrier Air Group commander.

“Hey, Emma,” he said in a good-natured drawl, perhaps elongated by a hint of beer. He patted the spot beside him. “Come sit with us. You know Darlene Cooper, right?”

“Hey, Darlene.” Emma smiled at the girl beside Cory.

“Hey.” Darlene was a heavyset girl in a tie-dyed T-shirt, with multiple piercings and multicolored hair. She was extremely cool, Emma thought.

Darlene pushed a cooler toward her. “Beer?”

“Thanks.” Emma took a can of Rainier, even though she didn’t care that much for it. She’d take a few sips and carry the can around for a while, just so they wouldn’t think she was a dork.

“So are you nervous about starting school in a new place?” Cory asked.

Emma shook her head. “If I let moving freak me out, I’d have shot myself by third grade.”

“I’m glad you didn’t shoot yourself.” His leg moved—maybe accidentally, maybe not—so that it was aligned with hers, warm and solid. She liked the feel of it and didn’t move away. Maybe Cory was a bit full of himself but he was a key player around here. He was important in the small, contained, sometimes brutal world of high school, and she could do worse than win him over as an ally.

“Where are you from?” Darlene asked.

“Most recently from Corpus, on the Texas Gulf coast. How about you?”

Darlene took a big slug of beer. “All over, like you. Whenever my dad gets orders, off we go. It’s just the two of us.”

“Your mom’s not with you?”

“Nope. She took off when I was a baby and I haven’t seen her since.”

Emma sensed the hurt beneath Darlene’s nonchalant attitude. “So what do you do when your dad goes to sea?”

“Depends. Sometimes I stay with friends or family. One time I had to go to a foster home because there wasn’t nobody.” She shook back her candy-colored hair and took another sip of beer. “This year’s going to be cool, though. Now that I’m eighteen, I get the apartment all to myself while he’s on deployment. Our complex has hot tubs and a pool in the courtyard.”

“That is so bitchin’,” said Shea Hansen, who sat across the fire. “I can’t wait to be out on my own.”

Shea had tanned legs and wore loose nylon athletic shorts, like a runner. Her father was the minister of Trinity Lutheran Church in Oak Harbor, and Shea taught vacation Bible school there. Emma knew the whole community would be shocked by the sight of Shea sitting around and drinking beer. Adults tended to see what they wanted to see. And in hometown girls like Shea, they saw the good girl who could do no wrong.

Emma pointed out the varsity bars, divisional championship
and state finals pins on the boiled-wool front of Cory’s letter jacket. “You’ve been at the same high school all four years,” she said. “How’s that work?”

He stretched his feet toward the fire. “We were transferred here five years ago, and my mom decided this was where she wanted to stay.”

“So what happened when your dad got orders?”

“My mom and I stayed put. The old man spent his next two assignments as the oldest guy in the BOQ. He’s back now, learning to be a family man again. He never was much good at it.”

Emma braced her hand on the beach log and turned to look out at the inky water, speckled with reflected stars. She couldn’t imagine her father in the bachelor officers’ quarters. He’d shrivel up and die there. Everyone’s family was different. She was glad her parents believed in staying together, whether the assignment was to Fallon, Nevada, or the wilds of Alaska.

“No way was my mother moving after she found her dream house over on Penn Cove,” Cory explained.

“This place seems to have that effect on people,” she said, thinking of how her mother had looked when they’d gone to see that funky house on the bluff.

“Must be nice, staying in one place for five whole years.” Darlene opened another beer.

“No,
you’ve
got it nice,” Cory said. “Your own apartment. As soon as they start their cruise, it’ll be party central over there.”

Darlene tossed a stick into the heart of the fire. She watched the flames wrap around it. “You bet.”

Emma couldn’t help feeling sorry for Darlene, who lived alone with her dad and had raised herself without a mother. She drank too much and didn’t quite manage to hide the loneliness in her eyes.

“So do you miss Texas a lot?” Shea asked Emma. “Did you leave a boyfriend behind?”

“No, and yes.” Emma grinned. “Texas weather is too hot for me. And yeah, there was a guy.” She’d dated Garrett for six months, and he’d been the best boyfriend in the world. He was
polite, kind and extremely cool. His father was a country club golf pro and his family had never lived anywhere but Corpus. When she left Texas, they had both cried. He promised to write, call and e-mail every day. She promised nothing of the sort. After so many partings, she knew better. But her crazy heart didn’t. It always broke, no matter how hard she tried to protect it.

“You don’t have a boyfriend now,” Cory pointed out.

“That’s right.”

He lined up his leg with hers again. “Maybe you’ll get lucky.”

A shriek that sounded like an Indian war whoop split the air. The thud of bare feet on the wooden planks of the dock, followed by a splash, heralded the evening’s festivities. Jumping off the dock into the icy Sound was a time-honored local sport of murky origin and questionable purpose. At low tide, the pilings were just tall enough to be deliciously scary, and the water still deep enough to be safe.

The first one in, a skinny kid named Theo, bobbed in the dark water, the moonlight glancing off his sleek head. “Come on in,” he yelled. “Don’t let me freeze out here alone.”

“I’m in,” said Darlene, peeling off her shirt and shorts to the swimsuit she wore underneath. More splashes erupted. Screams and shouts rang through the clear night air, and the noise held a special quality of abandon, Emma thought. Monday morning was in the back of everyone’s mind. That, and maybe the thought that had been nagging at Emma lately—in just a short time, they’d all be out in the world, on their own. The prospect was exhilarating, intimidating, inevitable.