Navy Rules Page 9

  The wing hangar came into view, and he noted that a P-3C Orion was taking off while an EA-6B came in for a landing on another runway. It was a clear day and the squadrons needed to get their training hours in.

  His former squadron was still on its at-home cycle and not due to deploy for a few months. He’d accepted that he wasn’t going with them the next time; he wouldn’t have even if he hadn’t had the mishap, as his Command tour would already be over. In reality it ended only three months early with the explosion in Kabul that had changed his life.

  Yet nothing compared to meeting his daughter. He had to get on Marlene’s appointment book pronto and make sure he handled this right.

  Becoming a father was one thing he didn’t want to screw up.

  Once parked in his reserved spot in front of the hangar, he took the long way to the office. He liked to greet the maintenance people no matter which squadron they were from. Most were young, under twenty-five, and worked tireless hours on aging aircraft, performing miracle overhauls every day. As a pilot he’d put his life in their hands each time he went up, and they’d never let him or any of his aviators down.

  “Hey, guys, how’s it going?” He walked under the belly of a Prowler and stood next to the ladder on which a young aircraft mechanic sat, wrench in hand and goggles on her eyes.

  “Morning, Commander. We’re checking out her fuses again. The early-warning light keeps going off even when she’s at 10K.” The early-warning radar was supposed to alert pilots that they were flying at too low an altitude, which was certainly not the case if the craft was at ten thousand feet.

  “You’ll find it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He walked about the massive hangar and learned what some of the other mechanics were up to. Max had been a squadron Assistant Maintenance Officer during his junior officer tour, the tour they’d lost Tom on. Morale had sunk to nil after the crash and the only way he’d roused the mechanics had been to visit them several times a day, assuring them that the crash had nothing to do with their work. It had been a bad call by the aircraft carrier’s Air Boss, period. The Air Boss was responsible for directing the incoming aircraft to continue their landing on the ship or, if circumstances were too dangerous, to wave them off. In the latter case the pilot would forgo the landing on the carrier deck and fly back out and around until he or she could land the plane safely on deck.

  Tom should have been waved off, but wasn’t. He followed the rules and did as the Air Boss indicated. He went to land his plane. Only too late did Tom see it would be impossible to grab an arresting wire with his tail hook. He powered up in an effort to swerve off on his own, but his aircraft plunged into the ocean. There was no time for any of the crew to eject; they’d all been lost.

  As much as Max was used to the familiar twist in his gut when he thought of Tom’s death, it still gave him pause. One bad call and Tom, along with three crew members, was gone. Forever.

  Focus on today.

  He had to—it was how he’d recovered from the worst of his PTSD and how he’d be able to help the young sailors on their way home with it. This was his new purpose. To reach out to anyone else who needed a helping hand after coming back.

  He looked around the huge hangar. He’d earned the title of Maintenance Officer during his Department Head tour, which had directly resulted in his being selected for a Command tour. Its familiarity made him feel warm nostalgia for the hours upon hours he’d spent in hangars—leading other sailors or preparing for preflights.

  These old hangars had been good to him.

  * * *

  MARLENE LOOKED AT him over her reading glasses. He noted that she didn’t even have his file pulled. A positive sign—she didn’t think she needed to add anything like “patient is definitely on a backslide.”

  “Max, you’ve got to be kidding me. There’s no formula for raising a child. No proven way to know you’re doing everything right. Patience, love and more patience are the only surefire things. A child isn’t a mission, Max.”

  “I disagree. It’s the most important mission.”

  “Okay. If you’re so certain about this, why didn’t you call Winnie right after you had unprotected sex? To make sure she wasn’t pregnant? And why hasn’t Winnie been a subject of our work until now?”

  The questions were typical of Marlene’s get-to-the-root method, but this time Max felt as though she’d kicked him in the gut.

  “I didn’t see the need. It wasn’t unprotected sex, except when one of the condoms broke. I did think she was on the Pill and she gave me no reason to believe she wasn’t.”

  Marlene’s silence meant what he hated—he had to dig deeper.

  “I suppose I could’ve continued to call her after the Air Show, after I went back east.” He sighed. “I was going on deployment, and honestly, shouldn’t she have returned my calls? I left the ball in her court…” His voice trailed off and he heard what a pathetic excuse that had been. “Shit.”

  “Max, this isn’t about berating yourself over what you did or did not do two years ago. It’s about today—what are you going to do today? If you cling to your resentment over being kept in the dark, I don’t see how it’s going to help you or your future relationship with your daughter.”

  “Maybe not, but Winnie had a huge role in this. I can’t ever trust her again.”

  “That’s fair, but it’s not what I’m getting at. What have we spent the past few months talking about in here?”

  He waited for her to supply the answer, but Marlene remained silent. There was a reason she had such a great reputation as a counselor. She was compassionate, honest and, when needed, a brutal ball breaker.

  This qualified as one of the brutal sessions.

  “Acceptance, living in the moment. Not projecting about the future.” He grunted the words and knew he sounded like an adolescent but didn’t care.

  “Why, Max? Why is acceptance so important now?”

  He sighed and rubbed his eyes before he answered. “Because I can’t change what is. I can’t go back and undo the first eighteen months of Maeve’s life. I can’t redo my actions the night she was conceived or after.”

  The silence went on, and Max felt the tension leave his shoulders. This was the part of therapy that had initially bothered him the most. The quiet. He never knew what visions or memories would burst in and slam him back to the battlefield.

  The intense flashbacks had eased. Now the silence and his revelations signaled the prelude to a new level of understanding. “Real growth” as Marlene and his flight surgeon often called it.

  “I’ve got so much learning to do.”

  “With your daughter or her mother?”

  “Both. All three.” He looked up at Marlene. “There’s also my daughter’s older sister, my goddaughter.”

  Marlene’s brows rose. “It seems we still have some digging to do here, Max. Why don’t we go back to once a week for a few weeks, to get to the heart of it?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  Marlene laughed. “You’ve always had a choice, Max. Fortunately for both of us, you’ve always hung in there and, every time, you’ve done the next thing needed to get better.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure I’m getting way better, Marlene.”

  “Why’s that?” she asked, obviously recognizing his sarcasm but pretending to ignore it.

  “Because I feel like shit again.”

  * * *

  “WHY DIDN’T WE SEE Uncle Max for so long? And why were you guys fighting at the soccer field, anyway?”

  Winnie looked up from her laptop and the financial spreadsheets. Krista stood in the office doorway, her gaze fixed on Winnie.

  She gave the baby monitor on her desk a glance. Maeve was asleep, as evidenced by her soft snores.

  “I thought you were getting ready for bed.”

  “I already did.” Krista walked into the office and sat beside her on the worn sofa that was pushed against the wall. “See, all clean.” She shook her wet hair at Winni
e.

  “Okay. Nice pajamas, by the way.” Winnie poked fun at Krista’s faded monkey-patterned pajamas that she’d outgrown in height, but insisted on wearing.

  “I love these, Mom.”

  “I know, but maybe we should take a shopping trip off island sooner rather than later.” Winnie loved talking with Krista but knew this conversation was going to get deep.

  “So why didn’t we see him more?”

  “See whom?”

  “Mom!” Krista’s exasperation was second only to her persistent inquisitiveness.

  Winnie didn’t know which to handle first—Krista’s questions or the heavy weight on her chest that she thought a quick stretch might ease. One look at Krista’s face told her she wasn’t going anywhere until they’d had this conversation.

  “It was hard for all of us after your daddy died, Krista. Uncle Max had been here day and night for quite a while—two months or so. It was his job to help us with all the details of being a Gold Star family.”

  Krista knew what Gold Star meant. They weren’t the only family on Whidbey Island who’d lost a loved one to war. But they were one of the few who’d decided to stay. They were also one of the few with extended family on or near the island.

  “Why did he go away?” Krista was on a roll.

  “He got orders and he was stationed in Florida. He went there for two years before he came back here and took command of an air squadron, like the one Daddy was in. Uncle Max took a squadron to the war in Afghanistan.”

  “Wow! Is he glad to be back?”

  “I’m sure he is, but you’d have to ask him yourself. I imagine he might have some interesting stories to tell you.”

  “Wow.” Krista-code for “neat, that’s interesting and not what I expected.”

  “As for why we were arguing, well, Uncle Max is rather protective of you, since he was, I mean is, your godfather. He feels he’s related to you through your father, because he and your daddy were best friends.”

  “But why were you arguing on the soccer field?”

  Winnie sighed and turned to face Krista as they sat together on the sofa. “It’s me, honey. I’m a control freak, I admit it. And Uncle Max, uh, forgot to tell me that he was going to be coaching your team. And now that he knows about Maeve, he wants to be around her and you a lot more.” Winnie paused and looked away.

  “It’s too much all at once,” she said a moment later. “Seeing Uncle Max again, telling him about Maeve—”

  “You didn’t tell him, Mom. That’s what you were fighting about when he came over the other night.”

  “You’re right, kiddo.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Krista, you have to understand that Uncle Max and I go way back. We knew each other when I met your father, before you were born.”

  “That long ago? Really?”

  Winnie couldn’t hold back her laugh. “It wasn’t that long ago, honey. Just wait until you’re my age and I remind you of this conversation.”

  Krista wasn’t to be distracted. “But, Mom, if Uncle Max is so worried about me, where has he been?”

  Leave it to a kid to cut right to the painful crux of the matter. “Well, he was here after your daddy passed away.” Winnie rubbed Krista’s back, but it remained stiff under her touch. She put her hand back in her lap.

  “Then, like I said, he got orders to Florida and had to move. He came back twice over the years. His most recent job was being in charge of a squadron and deploying all over the world. He hasn’t had a lot of time to spare.”

  “Huh.”

  Winnie wished she knew what Krista’s monosyllabic reply meant. Judging by her furrowed brows, the conversation wasn’t over.

  “I realize it’s hard to understand, but sometimes people need time apart after such a hard thing happens.”

  “Didn’t you want him to know about Maeve sooner?”

  “The timing wasn’t good, Krista. He had to get ready to take a squadron to war, and he was on combat missions, too. I didn’t want to distract him in any way. It was more important that he get back safe and sound.”

  “You were afraid he was going to die, like Daddy.”

  Ouch. “I didn’t know. It was…possible.” Her words came out in a quiet rush. That was the truth; she didn’t know if Max was going to come back alive.

  “Hmm.” Krista-speak for “I don’t get it but whatever.” Then, just like that, Krista was on to her usual after-school narrative. “In Life Skills class today we had to make pasta and some icky white sauce.”

  Winnie focused as best she could on Krista’s chatter while telling her own demons to pipe down. Krista had every right to know the circumstances of her younger sister’s birth—and why Winnie hadn’t told Max sooner.

  In truth, Krista was only asking what anyone would want to know after reuniting with a family friend who’d meant so much to her but had been out of the picture for a long time.

  Too long.

  Winnie’s remorse remained a heavy weight on her chest. It’d been easy to ignore when she knew Max wasn’t even on Whidbey Island, or if he was, it was for a short period between detachments and deployments.

  Krista finally paused long enough for Winnie to urge her to bed.

  “Don’t listen to your MP3 player, okay?” she added. “It’s too late.”

  “Okay. Love you, Mom,” Krista leaned in and let Winnie embrace her while she wrapped her arms around Winnie’s waist.

  “Love you, too, sweetheart.” Winnie planted a kiss on Krista’s head before her daughter went upstairs. “See you in the morning.”

  “Night, Mom.”

  As soon as she heard Krista go up the stairs, Winnie placed her head in her hands. Her well-intentioned decision to not tell Max sooner had been a mistake. She’d done the right thing in protecting Max from any upset when he had to be at his most focused as a military professional. If only she hadn’t nagged Tom the weekend before he’d left on his last detachment. If only she’d been more supportive of him as a Navy pilot… She wasn’t to blame for his death, of course, and yet the guilt was intense. Her haranguing him sure hadn’t helped.

  She rubbed her temples. Yes, she was positive she’d done the right thing for Max. But now her holding back from Max was affecting Krista, too. Maeve seemed oblivious, except for the fact that she’d appeared to be in awe of Max the two short times she’d seen him. Winnie knew it was just that Maeve wasn’t around men a whole lot, and Max was the kind of guy kids loved.

  It’s more than that. She feels the connection.

  If Winnie wasn’t attracted to Max, this would all be so much easier. When he was with her, she couldn’t stop her defenses from going on full alert.

  If they hadn’t recognized their mutual attraction, more than two years ago, Maeve wouldn’t be here.

  Unthinkable.

  It’s not about you or Max, she told herself. It’s about the girls.

  The girls she’d vowed to keep safe and love with all her heart.

  She stood and stretched. Sam did a downward dog stretch beside her.

  Max wasn’t the only one who could take action here. She might have been slow in telling him about Maeve. So be it. She couldn’t change that.

  She could, however, take action to make sure things didn’t spin out of control again. If Max was going to be part of their lives—from the soccer field to time with Sam to family meals—it was going to be on her terms.

  * * *

  “MAX AND MILES FINISHED their run side by side. They’d taken the dirt jogging path that took them from the gym, past breathtaking views of the ocean, through a stretch of woods and then a campground.

  “It’s not just about getting your head and your body back in sync,” Max was saying. “It’s about remembering why you joined the Navy in the first place. That helped me figure out what I really love to do, what I can still do, no matter what.”

  “I hear you, boss, but it’s hard to finally accept that I’m never going to be climbing out of a helicopter agai
n. No more Ordinance Disposal missions.” Miles knocked on his prosthesis.

  “You can train the new guys and gals to go out there and do it. I’ll never command a squadron again, or anything else. My flying days are done because of my seniority. I can still physically fly but there aren’t any jobs left in the Navy that require me to fly. I could be bummed about it, and I’m not saying I’ve never felt that way, but it’s forced me to decide what I feel I can’t live without—what I want to keep doing.”

  Max stretched his legs out in front of him on the bench. They sat alongside the running path; they’d completed their run, then taken a cool-down walk back to this quiet place with its stunning view of Puget Sound. The water was deceptively calm. The only movement was the flickering of the wings—the seagulls and circling bald eagles hundreds of feet above them.

  “I can do without flying, the constant moving, the challenge of hard times in a third-world country. But what I can’t do without is knowing I’m part of a team, knowing we respect each other, equally. The camaraderie that only comes from being with others who share the same values.”

  “You’re right, boss, I know you are.” Miles ran his fingers through his short blond hair. “But I won’t be working next to people who’d give their life for their country if I join a big corporation.”

  “Who says it has to be big? Or that everyone has to be willing to sacrifice it all for Uncle Sam? Good people serve our country every day, and most of them aren’t in a uniform. As long as you find a job you can be passionate about and do it to the best of your ability, you’re serving your country. Does that make sense?” Max rubbed at his left thigh where microscopic pieces of shrapnel still lay, unreachable by the tiniest scalpel.

  “Is it bothering you, boss?” Miles asked. His gaze showed no sign of pity, just frank inquiry. He’d chosen to ignore Max’s question.

  “Oh, yeah.” Max shrugged. “It’s amazing to me that I survived it, sure, but the fact that there’s still these tiny pieces of that psycho’s bomb inside me—let’s just say there was a time I wanted to tear them all out by myself.”

  “When you first got back? When you had the night sweats?”