Always Ready (12 page)

“Aye, aye, Petty Officer Lyle.”

She held back a smile as the earnest young man began the new task. Daley was close to testing for a pay grade increase, and she’d been advised to give him more responsibility.

When he’d finished running down the checklist, he handed the clipboard back to her. “All set, ma’am.”

“Don’t call me ma’am,” she said softly. He nodded. “All right then, Daley. I’ll check our position.” As buoy deck supervisor, she calculated their position herself, ensuring that the navigational aid would be returned to the right place in the water so sailors could trust it to keep them from straying into the shallows. “Men, take your positions to release the chain stoppers. Daley, signal the crane operator.”

Daley gave the command, and the crane lifted the buoy again and swung it toward the side of the ship.

Caddie held her breath as she watched. That thing weighed as much as a small car, and the crew exercised great respect for airborne objects of that magnitude, standing well back in case anything went wrong and the buoy unexpectedly crashed to the deck.

It was nearly to the rail when a rogue wave caught the ship, interrupting its regular pitch and roll, tilting them sideways. Everyone grabbed the nearest stable object.

Caddie was near the lifeboat rack and braced herself against it. When the ship rolled back, the mammoth buoy swayed like a pendulum toward the rising rail.

“Watch it,” Caddie called to her men. She turned and looked up at the crane operator. “Come on,” she said under her breath. “Higher. Get that thing over the side.”

Wind whipped her hair, and the deck slanted drastically beneath her feet. Behind her, a shout preceded a loud
thunk
. The deck shuddered. Caddie whirled. Men were scrambling as the buoy shivered in midair then swung out over the waves.

The ship shifted with the next swell. To her relief, the deck came back to near level. The huge buoy had cleared the rail and hung well over the side. The crane operator quickly extended the cable and lowered the buoy to the water.

She exhaled as her men rushed to the rail to watch.

“What’s the damage?”

Caddie jumped. Boatswain Tilley, via radio, had spoken rather curtly in her ear. She swallowed hard and turned to look up at the forecastle. “I’ll make an inspection, sir.”

“No one hurt?”

“Negative.” She did a quick mental count of her team, realizing she hadn’t actually had time to find out but had spoken quickly to protect them and herself from Tilley’s wrath. She strode to the rail trying not to appear in too big a hurry and addressed Daley. “Everyone okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. Petty Officer.”

Caddie peered down at the buoy, which bobbed in the foaming water. She said into her radio, “Buoy in place. Over.”

“The boatswain has left the fo’cas’l,” a seaman replied. “He’ll be on deck in a second.”

Caddie gulped. If she hadn’t guessed anyone else was listening, she’d have thanked him for the warning.

She ordered the men to clean up the deck.

They dashed about collecting scattered tools.

“Lyle.”

Caddie managed not to flinch and turned to greet the boatswain. “Boatswain Tilley?”

“Was there any damage when that buoy hit the bulwark?”

“I don’t believe so. There’s a small dent in the rail. Some paint chipped off. Barely visible.”

“Show me.”

She straightened her shoulders and marched beside him to the where the collision had occurred. “Right there.”

Tilley scowled. “Have your men repaint this section of the rail. And when you dismiss your detail, you’ll stand an extra watch, Lyle.”

Anger boiled up inside her, but she quickly shoved it down and lowered her gaze. “Aye, aye.”

“And the crane operator and the man directing him will report to the galley.”

She glanced up at him then away. It wouldn’t do any good to protest, though the men were not at fault. At least the buoy hadn’t hit anyone or anything fragile. “Aye, aye.”

Tilley turned on his heel and left the deck.

Caddie stood still for several seconds, calming herself and praying silently before she faced the tasks of dismissing the men and sending Daley and Ricker to KP duty. It wasn’t fair. She hated taking the men’s recreation time away from them. They’d done nothing to deserve it.

She didn’t mind the extra duty for herself, though Tilley shouldn’t have given her such an assignment. He wasn’t her commanding officer. She wouldn’t protest, though. Even if she had the chance to have the order rescinded, she didn’t want to deepen Tilley’s dislike of her. Another four hours on duty wouldn’t hurt her, and accepting his disrespect might even help her to learn patience and submission. Still, she was tired and her arm had begun to ache.

She called her team to attention and gave orders for the small repair job. “Daley. Ricker. When you are dismissed, you will report to the chef in the galley and do whatever he instructs you to do.” She didn’t meet the men’s eyes. If she smiled, grimaced, she would betray the emotion swirling through her. She mustn’t give Tilley ammunition. He would accuse her of being soft or disrespectful—or any one of a number of adjectives she’d never considered. “You are dismissed.”

She felt very alone as she watched the men leave the deck.

Nine

“I can’t believe we both have this afternoon free.” Aven set their golf bags down near the first tee of Bear Valley, the nine-hole golf course near the base.

Caddie’s blue eyes shone as she gathered her things. “Me either. Thanks so much for thinking of this.”

“Are you sure your arm can take it?”

“Pretty sure, but if it starts aching, I’ll let you know.”

“Good.” Aven handed her a golf ball.

When he’d learned Caddie’s ship would dock in time to allow them half a day together, he’d considered a kayaking venture. That probably would be bad for her arm, though. He wouldn’t want to do anything to set her recovery back. He’d held back from asking her at first, for fear she might carry some nebulous resentment for his father’s role in her own dad’s death. But she’d gotten past that, and he appreciated that proof of her maturity.

“I’m really lousy at golf, in spite of my name,” she said with a laugh.

He chuckled, recalling Robyn’s comments about Caddie’s name. “Me, too.” He hesitated and decided to come clean. “Okay, I’ve only played on a golf course once, and that was here. I did so horribly I never came back.”

“Sounds like we’ll be evenly matched. And we’d better let anyone behind us play through.”

Caddie set up her first ball and teed off.

Aven shielded his eyes and followed the ball’s path. “Not bad. I guess.” He grinned at her. “Actually, I’m not sure if that’s good or not.”

“Could have been worse, I guess.” She flexed her left arm and smiled at him. “My arm feels fine so far. If I’m sore tomorrow, it’ll be because I used my muscles more than usual, not because of the injury. That’s pretty well healed now.”

“I’m glad.” He stooped to set his ball on the tee. “Now that the sun’s getting lower, the breeze off the bay feels chilly for August.”

“Yes, I’m glad I wore my vest today.” Caddie stood back a little and waited for him to swing.

Just knowing she was watching made him nervous, and he completely missed the ball on his first try. “Oops.” He took a deep breath and concentrated. The second swing was a little better, sending the ball flying up the fairway nearly as far as Caddie’s had gone. Aven exhaled in relief. Maybe he should have chosen something he knew more about.

They blundered their way through the nine holes. Caddie kept him laughing, and in the end their scores were fairly even.

After they returned their equipment to the clubhouse, Aven tried to think of a way to prolong the interlude together. “How about a soda in the snack bar?”

Caddie glanced into the crowded shop. “There are a lot of people in there. What if we got drinks and took them outside?”

Aven bought two bottled soft drinks, and they hurried outside. They found a bench in the sun, and she seemed content to sit there with him, around the corner of the clubhouse where they couldn’t be seen from the parking lot.

Aven slid close to her and rested his arm on the back of the bench behind her. “Warm enough?” he asked.

“Yes.”

The breeze ruffled her hair and shot golden highlights through it.

“So, how did your cruise go? Everything all right?”

“Pretty much,” she said. “How about you? You didn’t say much about your last deployment. Any arrests this time?”

“No.” He sipped his soda and inched closer to her, bringing his arm down around her shoulders.

She smiled without looking at him.

He felt comfortable, not awkward, with her now and was thankful for the milestones they’d passed. “We gave quite a few citations, but we didn’t have to impound any boats or haul anyone in.”

“Good. Hey, I didn’t tell you about my grandmother’s newspaper.”

“No, I can’t say that you have. Your grandmother has a newspaper?”

She chuckled. “No, she subscribes to one. She lives in Oregon, and she wrote and told me that they run a travel feature every Sunday. She suggested I write an article about Kodiak Island and send it to her paper.”

“Are you going to?”

“Thinking about it.”

Aven nodded, picturing Caddie’s photos splashed across the page and her name in the byline. “Be sure to send a few of your bear pictures.”

“Definitely. And I thought maybe I’d call a few of the charter boat owners and the people who have tourist lodges.”

“Yeah, that’d make a great layout.” He looked out over the brilliant green before him. At last Caddie was right where he’d yearned to have her. For weeks he’d longed to be with her, to hold her in his arms, and to have the chance for another serious, in-person talk with her. This was more than he’d hoped for. He sent up a silent prayer of gratitude.

She leaned away from him a little, and he felt a cool breeze cut between them.

“I wasn’t entirely honest a minute ago.” She frowned and met his gaze. “It’s true nothing major happened on my deployment, but even so, I don’t feel good about it.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged. “Maybe I was away from the job too long. It seemed as though some of my shipmates felt I’d let them down.”

“It’s not like you were slacking. You broke your arm.”

“I know. But. . .we were just getting to work as a real team and I left for a month. And things that bothered me before seemed worse this time. Like Tilley. I’ve felt from the start as though he was watching me, looking for something to criticize. It was worse than ever this time. Maybe he thinks it was my fault that I got hurt. And what about this—maybe it was.”

“It couldn’t have been. You were out there doing everything you could to save those fishermen. You didn’t do anything stupid or negligent. The sea got you. That’s all.” Aven drew her gently back into the circle of his arm.

Caddie let him, and she nestled in against his sweatshirt, resting her head just below his collarbone. “Thanks.”

He gave her a little squeeze. “All right. Aside from Tilley and feeling inadequate, how did it go?”

She sighed, and he wondered what thoughts plagued her. He sat still, waiting without speaking, stroking her shoulder gently.

After a couple of minutes, she pulled in a deep breath. “When I joined the Coast Guard, I thought this would be my life. Twenty or thirty years anyway.”

“And now?” he asked.

“Now I’m not so sure. Since Dad died, I’ve had these doubts as to whether I really belong here. Did I join because I wanted to sail and have adventures? To serve my country? Or to make Dad happy? I’m doing well at the job, I think—that is, I was until I broke my arm—but now I wonder if I was wrong. Did I make a mistake going into the service?”

“No.”

“No? Just like that?” She pushed away from him and studied his face.

Aven smiled. “Everybody goes through this. It’s natural. You start second-guessing yourself, wondering if you’ve overlooked something major. It usually happens right before a test or a transfer.”

“Think so?”

“Know so.”

“I am studying for my next test.”

“See? That’ll do it.”

She settled back in, and he rested his cheek against the top of her head. She snuggled closer against his side, and Aven closed his eyes for a few seconds. For that moment, he wished they were both far away from Kodiak, free from their military obligations. But only for a moment.

“You know how you mentioned the motto a few weeks back?” she asked.

“Semper paratus.”

“Yes. Always ready. Well, I don’t feel ready.”

“For the physical strain?”

“No. It’s more mental and emotional.” She raised her head and looked fiercely at him. “We had a minor incident. The seas were rough and a buoy we were hoisting hit the ship’s rail, but nobody was injured and none of the equipment was hurt. Tilley punished me and two others.”