Navy Grooms, page 14
“Two and a half more months,” she reminded him.
“I know. I can’t remember any tour taking so long.”
“Me either. I’ve got a couple of letters off to you this week, and I baked some chocolate chip cookies. Dad always loved it when Mom mailed him cookies.... I thought maybe you would, too. Old habits die hard, I guess.”
“I picked up something for you while we were in port, but I’d rather give it to you in person. Do you mind waiting?”
“No.” But Erin noted that neither of them was willing to discuss how long it would be before they’d see each other again. Erin couldn’t afford to fly off to Hawaii, especially after purchasing the piano. And Brand might not be able to get leave.
“Listen, Irish eyes, I’ve got to go.”
“I know,” she said, expelling a sigh of regret. “I’m so glad you phoned.”
“I am, too. Write me.”
“I will, I promise.”
Yet both were reluctant to hang up the line until Erin heard Romano arguing with Brand in the background.
“Hey, Face, aren’t you going to tell her you love her?”
Romano’s question was followed by a short pause before Brand said, “She already knows.”
Smiling to herself, Erin relaxed and grinned sheepishly. Yes, she did know, but it wouldn’t have done any harm to have heard him tell her one more time.
Dearest Erin,
The cookies arrived today. You never told me you could bake like this. They’re fabulous. I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you’d send me cookies.
I don’t know what the men think of me. For the first part of the cruise I was an ill-tempered bear, snapping at everyone. These days I walk around wearing a silly grin, passing out cookies like a first-grade teacher to her favorite pupils.
By the way, you haven’t mentioned the piano lately. Did you know I play? My mother forced me to take lessons for five years. I hated it then but have had reason to be grateful since.
I’m sorry this is so short, but the mail’s due to be picked up anytime and I wanted to get this off so you’d know how much I appreciate the cookies.
Miss you,
Brand
P.S. The next time you write, send me your picture.
“Well?” Erin asked for the third time as Aimee reviewed the stack of snapshots. Brand had been hounding her for weeks for a photo. She’d tried to put him off, explaining that she really didn’t take a good picture, but he wouldn’t listen, claiming that if she didn’t send one he’d write and ask her family for a photo. It didn’t take much thinking on her part to realize that her dad would take delight in sending off a whole series of pictures, no doubt starting with naked baby shots. “Which one is the best?”
Aimee shrugged laconically. “They’re all about the same.”
“I know, but which one makes me look sexy and glamorous and every lieutenant’s dream?”
Aimee’s questioning gaze rose steadily to meet Erin’s. “He asked for your picture, you know, not one of Madonna in her brass-tipped bra.”
“I realize that, but I wanted something special, something that made me look attractive.”
“You are attractive.”
“More than attractive,” Erin added sheepishly. “Sexy.”
“Erin, sweetheart, at the risk of offending you, I’d like to remind you we took these photos with my camera, which cost all of forty dollars. If you’re looking for someone to airbrush the finish, you should have contacted a professional.”
“It’s just that—”
“Hey, sweetie, you don’t need to explain anything to me.”
Erin knew she didn’t, but she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of guilt. Aimee’s divorce was progressing smoothly enough. Matters, however, were starting to heat up now that the attorneys were involved.
“So have you heard from the sailor boy lately?” Aimee asked with a hint of sarcasm. She sorted through the pictures again and selected three, setting them aside. Falling in love wasn’t a subject that interested Aimee these days. The divorce was proving to be far more painful than she’d ever expected.
“He writes often.”
“And you?”
“I... I write often, too.”
“How much longer before he’s back in Hawaii?”
Erin had it figured out right down to the number of hours, although it would do her little good. “About six weeks.”
Aimee nodded, but Erin wasn’t completely sure her friend had even heard her.
“This one,” Aimee said unexpectedly, handing her the snapshot. Erin was standing in front of a rosebush in her yard, where all of the photos had been taken.
She was wearing a dress in a soft shade of olive green, which nicely complemented her coloring. Her sleeves were rolled up past her elbow, and a narrow row of buttons ran down the length of the front. The outfit was complemented by a woven belt and a matching large-brimmed hat that shaded her face.
“This one. Really?” Erin questioned. It wasn’t the one she would have chosen. Her eyes were lowered, unlike in the other photos, and her mouth was curved slightly upward in a subtle smile.
“He’ll love it,” Aimee insisted.
Dearest Erin,
The picture arrived in today’s letter. I’d forgotten how beautiful you are. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. It made me miss you so much more than I do already. An empty feeling came over me. One so big an earthmover couldn’t fill it. I don’t know how to explain it. I’m not sure I can.
All I know is I love you so much it frightens me. Somehow, someway, we’re going to come up with a solution to all this. We have to. I can’t bear to think of not having you in my life.
I’m sorry to hear about Aimee and her husband and hope they can patch things up.
And no, I haven’t seen any women in grass skirts lately. Haven’t you figured it out yet, my sweet Irish rose? I only have eyes for you.
Love,
Brand
Brand taped Erin’s picture to the wall next to his berth. He’d seen other guys do the same thing and had never understood what led mature men to do something so juvenile. Now he understood. Love did. The last person he saw when he went to sleep at night was Erin, and she was the first one to greet him each morning. Sometimes he’d linger a few moments extra just staring at her.
He loved the picture. Just the way she was standing with her back to the sun, bright shreds of light folding golden arms around her. Her eyes were downcast, and she had the look of a woman longing to be kissed.
Brand ran his tongue around the outside of his lips. It had been so long since he’d kissed Erin he’d almost forgotten what it was like.
Almost forgotten.
What he did remember was enough to prompt a pronounced tightness in his pants. Although she was wearing a very proper olive-green dress in the snapshot, the image of her standing in the sunlight reminded him of the morning she’d wandered into the kitchen in her flannel gown. She’d smelled of lavender and musk, and the yoke of her prim gown had been embroidered in satin threads that emphasized her perky breasts. Erin had beautiful breasts, and the sudden need Brand experienced to taste and feel them was enough to produce a harsh groan. His breath fled. It was time to take a cold shower, something he seemed to be doing a lot of lately. He pressed his fingers to his lips and then bounced them against Erin’s pictures, doubting that she had a clue how crazy he was about her.
Dear Erin,
You don’t know me. At least I don’t think we’ve ever met. I’m Ginger Romano. My husband, Alex, and Brand Davis are both aboard the Blue Ridge. By now you’ve probably heard about Brand’s promotion. He’s been promoted to full-grade lieutenant.
Brand’s real popular with the guys, and they wanted to do something special for him. That’s why Alex wrote me about you. A few of Brand’s friends decided to get together and throw a surprise party for him to celebrate his promotion.
Someone thought it might be fun if they hired a woman to jump out of a cake. That’s when Alex came up with a much better idea. They’re going to throw that party, and there’s going to be a woman there all right, but we want to surprise him with you. Everyone went together and pitched in and we have enough for your airplane ticket. You’re welcome to stay at the house here with Alex and me, if you don’t mind kids. We have three, and they’re a handful, but the welcome mat’s out and we’d really be pleased if you could.
Let me know at your earliest opportunity if it’s the least bit feasible for you to arrive the second week of October. We’ll need to know soon, though, so we can book your flight. Please remember this is a surprise.
I’m looking forward to meeting you.
Sincerely,
Ginger Romano
“You’re going?” Aimee asked again, as if she still couldn’t believe Erin had agreed to this crazy, spur-of-the-moment plan. “You’re honestly going?”
Maybe it was a crazy thing to do, but Erin couldn’t resist. She could never have afforded the airplane ticket herself, and this seemed her golden opportunity to spend time with Brand. They’d been apart so many months, and they’d trudged over a mountain range of emotions and doubts.
She had his picture, but she wasn’t exactly sure she remembered what he looked like. He’d contacted her by phone only one time in the last six months. Was she flying to him? In a heartbeat!
“I’m going,” she assured Aimee, tucking her curling iron in her suitcase.
“I don’t suppose you need a friend to tag along for moral support?”
“I do, but I can’t afford you,” Erin joked.
“Don’t worry, I can’t afford me, either. Apparently no one can, not even Steve.” She was trying to make light of the facts with a joke, but it fell flat.
“Don’t worry,” Erin promised, “I’ll be back in time for the settlement hearing. I won’t let you go through this alone.”
Aimee’s eyes filled with appreciation. “Thanks. I’m counting on you.” She glanced around the bedroom one last time. “Well, it looks like you’ve got everything under control.” Aimee made it sound like a sharp contrast to her own life, and Erin struggled with a sudden twinge of guilt.
“Hey,” Aimee said with a short, pathetic laugh, “don’t look so woebegone. It isn’t every day you get an opportunity like this. Enjoy it while you can. Play in the sun, relax, stroll along the beach. I’ll be fine... You don’t need to worry about little ol’ me.”
“Aimee!”
“All right, all right, I’m being ridiculous. I do want you to have fun. It’s just that I’m going to miss you something terrible.”
“I’m going to miss you, too, but it’s only a week.”
Erin glanced around one last time to be sure she’d packed everything she needed. Aimee was driving her to the airport and dropping her off. In less than two hours she’d be boarding the flight. Several hours later, she’d step off the Boeing 747 in Honolulu, where Ginger would be waiting to pick her up. She’d be leaving the cold rain of Seattle behind and disembarking in balmy eighty-degree sunshine.
Not a bad trade.
The flight seemed to take an eternity. Several times Erin had to pinch herself to make sure all this was real. She felt like a game-show winner who hadn’t expected anything more than the consolation prize. Yet here she was flying to Brand with seven uninterrupted days of heaven stretching out in front of her.
The Blue Ridge was due to sail into Pearl Harbor sometime late Wednesday afternoon. The party was scheduled for Thursday evening. Ginger had taken care of most of the details, along with a couple of other navy wives and Lieutenant Commander Catherine Fredrickson, another of Brand’s friends. For the past month, Erin had been corresponding with Ginger, and she liked her immensely.
The hardest part was keeping the fact that Erin was in Hawaii a secret until Thursday evening.
* * *
“I don’t know where the hell she could be,” Brand told Romano Thursday morning. “I tried phoning every hour all night. She didn’t mention she was going away.”
“Maybe something came up.”
“Obviously,” he barked. Brand was in a sour mood. For days he’d been looking forward to phoning Erin. It was the first thing he’d done when he’d walked into his apartment. The anticipation of hearing her voice was the only thing that had gotten him through those last few weeks. Rarely had he ever been more restless or more ready for a tour to end.
Each night for three weeks he’d dreamed of listening to the soft catch in her voice when she realized it was him on the line. For the first time in six hellish months he could speak to her freely without someone standing over his shoulder the way Alex had in the Philippines. He hoped that when they spoke this time they might accomplish something.
At the very least they could discuss what they had to do to see each other again.
For several long months he’d thought of little else but being with Erin again. Yet, when the time arrived, she was gone. Vanished. No one seemed to know where she was.
Brand had gone so far as to contact her family. Casey didn’t sound the least bit concerned, claiming Erin often had to travel out of town on business trips. But, now that Brand mentioned it, Casey did seem to remember Erin saying something about flying off to Spokane sometime soon.
If that was the case, she hadn’t bothered to tell Brand.
“How about going out for a couple of beers?” Romano suggested late that same afternoon.
“Ginger’s going to let you?” he asked disbelievingly.
“She won’t care. Bobby’s at soccer practice, and frankly, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
Brand didn’t know what had gotten into his friend. Usually Alex couldn’t wait to get home to his family, and once he was back, he spent plenty of time with the youngsters. Brand had always admired the fact Romano was a good family man. He hoped when the time came he’d be as conscientious a husband and father.
Brand considered his options. It was either hang around his apartment all night, hoping Erin would contact him, or visit the Officers’ Club and talk shop with a few old friends. The second option was by far the most appealing, yet something elemental tugged at his heart. He hated the thought he might miss Erin, if she should happen to call.
“Well?” Romano pressed impatiently. “What’s your choice?”
“I don’t suppose one beer would hurt.”
A twinkling light flashed in Alex’s sea-green eyes. “Nope, I don’t think it will, either.”
As soon as Brand had fastened his seat belt, Romano started the engine and drove past the Officers’ Club and outside the navy compound. “Hey, where are we going?”
“For a beer,” Alex reminded him, doing his best to hide a grin.
Something was up. Brand might not have a whole lot to do with navy intelligence, but he didn’t need a master’s degree in human nature to determine that something was awry.
“All right, Romano,” Brand insisted, “tell me what’s going on here.”
“What makes you think anything is?”
“Let’s start with the fact you’re free the second night we’re in port?”
“All right, all right, if you must know, the guys went together and planned a small party in your honor, Lieutenant Davis.”
Amused, Brand chuckled. He should have known a long time before now that his friends wouldn’t let that pass without making some kind of fuss. “Who’s in on this?”
“Just about everyone. Only...”
“Only what?”
“There’s one small problem, if you want to call it that.” Romano hesitated. “It’s a little bit embarrassing, but the guys wanted to make this special, so they hired a woman.”
“They did what?” Brand demanded.
“Someone got the bright idea that it would be fun to see your face if they rolled in a cake and had a woman leap out of the top.”
Brand slowly shook his head. “I certainly hope you’re kidding.”
“Sorry, I’m not. I couldn’t talk them out of it.”
Brand set his hand over his eyes and slowly shook his head. He should be amused by all this. “A woman?”
“You got it, buddy.”
Brand mulled over the information and chuckled. There wasn’t much he could do about it now, but he appreciated the warning. “Whatever happens, don’t ever let Erin find out about it, understand?”
“You’ve got my word of honor.”
The Cliff House was a restaurant with a reputation for excellent food and an extensive list of imported wine. Brand was mildly surprised that the establishment would sanction the type of entertainment his friends had planned.
The receptionist smiled warmly when Romano announced Brand’s name, and she gingerly led them to a banquet room off the main dining room.
“Hey, you guys went all out,” Brand muttered under his breath as they followed the petite Chinese woman.
“Nothing but the best,” Romano assured him, still grinning.
Several shouts and cheers of welcome went out when the two men walked into the room. Brand was handed a bottle of imported German beer and a basket of thick pretzels and led to a table in the front of the room.
“Are you ready to be entertained?” Romano asked, claiming the empty chair beside him. He reached for a bowl of mixed nuts and leaned back, eager for the show.
Brand nodded. He might as well get this over with first thing and be done with it. He forced a smile and a relaxed pose while two of the crewmen from the Blue Ridge rolled out a six-foot-tall box tied up with a large red bow. It wasn’t a cake, but close enough.
“You’re supposed to untie the ribbon,” Romano explained, urging him forward.
Reluctantly Brand stood and walked up to the front of the room. There must have been fifty men—and several women—all standing around, intently watching him. He tried to act nonchalant, as if he did this sort of thing every day.
