Seawolf End Game (43 page)

“Captain Brodie speaks highly of you, Lieutenant,” Campbell greeted her with a painted-on smile. He reminded her of a sleazy car salesman for some reason. After he gave her a pleasant look, his eyes glanced beyond her toward Brodie and the Admiral enviously.

Kristen offered her congratulations for his command, but could hardly muster an ounce of sincerity. She then withdrew, finding some company with Penny Graves, who helped Kristen get through the next two hours; the bare minimum time Kristen had to wait before she could slip out of the party to start her own leave.

Somewhere during the conversation with Penny, Kristen lost sight of Brodie. She assumed the
Seawolf’s
former master had beaten a hasty exit to allow the submarine’s new captain to be the center of attention.

“Are you okay, Kristen?” Penny asked suspiciously.

“I’m fine,” she lied, hearing the lack of sincerity in her own voice as she looked toward an exit.

“You don’t look okay,” Penny pointed out. “You wanna talk about it?”

Kristen could only shake her head. There was no one alive she could talk to about it except for Patricia; only Patricia would understand.

She excused herself and headed for the nearest door, anxious to be alone. She’d nearly made it out when she heard a voice off to her left call her name. For a brief moment she thought it might be Brodie. But she recognized Terry walking through the crowd toward her.

“Leaving so soon?” he asked with his charming smile. She’d noticed over the past month no more open advances from him. Instead, he’d become more interested in just talking to her, which had been a welcome relief from dodging his constant barrage of proposals.

Kristen motioned toward the door. “Yeah, I was. I start leave in the morning and need to pack.”

“Where to?” he asked, and she noticed an unusual note of desperation in his tone which she didn’t understand.

“I promised my grandparents I would come and see them,” Kristen admitted.

Terry nodded and then, as if as an afterthought asked, “What’re your plans for tonight?”

“Nothing really,” she admitted. “Just packing.”

“Maybe we could get something to eat?” he asked hopefully.

But she shook her head. “Nah,” then added in explanation, “I don’t think I’d be very good company right now.”

But Terry wasn’t about to surrender so easily. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that.”

Kristen suspected he might have developed stronger feelings for her than simple lust, but shook her head. “Sorry, Terry,” she told him. “I really just want to be alone.”

She said goodnight to him and headed back to her barracks. She tried to purge herself of thoughts of Brodie as she walked, but it was impossible. He’d said nothing to her at the reception, avoiding her as he had for the last month of the cruise. But their last conversation rang in her ears, stinging her still.

Kristen changed into her gym clothing, hoping to exorcise him from the depths of her soul by punishing her body. But even though she ran nearly five miles at such a pace she made herself sick, her thoughts were still plagued by him.

Kristen returned to her room as dusk settled. After a shower, she finished unpacking her gear and prepared a bag for the trip to San Diego. But within an hour, she’d seen to her uniforms, packed and repacked her bag, and then faced the prospect of a long night alone.

She had no more tears left to shed.

She tried reminding herself that she was accustomed to being alone, having spent her life isolated from everyone around her. But now, for the first time, the bitter loneliness felt like a weight too heavy to bear. The empty room only amplified her depression and sense of isolation.

Finally, unable to stand the solitude any longer, she grabbed her leather flight jacket and fled the room, wanting to get some fresh night air. The fickle Puget Sound weather had turned a bit cold, and she was thankful for the jacket as she walked aimlessly along the sidewalk. Occasionally a car slowed and some half-drunk sailor offered her a ride, but otherwise, she met no one as she walked aimlessly around the base.

As she meandered, Kristen couldn’t stop her persistent memory from replaying every moment with him, searching for any hint to prove she’d been wrong. But with each step, her mind replayed the last words he spoke to her, telling her he didn’t care for her. Kristen walked on and finally found herself at the wharf looking out at the submarine piers.

In the distance, she could make out the lights around the
Seawolf
. But the submarine no longer held the allure for her it once had. The price to serve was too high. Her right hand pulled a folded handkerchief from her pocket. It was the handkerchief he’d given her that night on the sail to dry her tears. She held it to her nose, breathing in his essence once more, and feeling the stabbing pain of loss. She loved him. No matter what he said to her, she still loved him. What was worse, she was quite certain that for as long as she lived, she would never love another.

A few cars passed behind her as she stood against the security fence looking out at the submarines tugging gently at their mooring lines. She couldn’t help but second guess herself, wondering if she’d scared him off somehow. Had she been too abrupt? Should she have waited until they were off the
Seawolf?
Did he truly have no feelings for her? She looked across the waves at the submarine resting peacefully. The thought of returning to the
Seawolf
without him on board caused the tears to threaten again. She wiped them away on her sleeve.

“Hey, good looking!” Kristen heard someone from a car filled with sailors call to her as they pulled up a few yards behind her at the curb. “You need a ride?”

Kristen turned, shook her head, and then looked back out at the wharf. She stared at the water, feeling the chill wind trying to bite through her leather flight jacket. She could hear the wind whipping through the leaves of some low bushes and a seagull call. Then she heard the throaty rumble of a motorcycle approaching. She didn’t turn her head at the sound, her grief-stricken thoughts not registering the deep-throated grumble. But Kristen became aware of it as she heard it slow and come to a stop behind her. For a moment she allowed the foolish, stupid little girl within her the fantasy, imagining he was behind her. Kristen waited for the latest sailor to offer her a ride, but after several seconds, she still heard nothing more.

Kristen turned slowly, not daring to hope. Then she saw Brodie seated on the back of the motorcycle. His helmet hung from the handlebars and his left leg was cocked over the seat. He was wearing his riding leathers with jeans, boots, and a sweater under his leather jacket. His thick, beautifully unruly hair was blowing in the wind, beckoning her fingers to try and tame it. Kristen caught her breath, not entirely certain she wasn’t hallucinating.

“You’re a hard person to find, Lieutenant,” Brodie broke the silence softly.

“Sir?” Kristen asked numbly.

“I’ve been riding all over the base for the last five hours. I was beginning to think I’d never find you,” he told her honestly.

She stepped toward him tentatively. “Why…” Her voice cracked, and she paused to clear her throat, struggling to control her emotions. “Why would you want to find me?”

“Well,” he shrugged easily, “I thought I might ask you a couple of questions.”

“Okay.” She stopped barely a foot from him. “You found me.”

Kristen felt his eyes on her once more. But this time it was different. Looking into his eyes, she could feel what she’d never been certain of before. The utter loneliness she’d felt since their last meeting faded. Without him saying a word, she knew she’d been right. The mask of command was gone. There were no more regulations standing between them. No more expectations of professionalism.

The cold wind warmed slightly.

“Would you like a ride, Kris?” he queried as his eyes held her gaze and reflected what she felt.

“Are you sure?” she asked, unable to bear it if he wasn’t. “Because if you aren’t…”

Brodie nodded firmly. “I’m sure,” he told her honestly. “I don’t think I was willing to admit it to myself until today when I knew I’d probably never see you again.”

“But…” she hesitated, afraid now to take a chance after their conversation in the torpedo room. “But, I thought you said…”

“I couldn’t let you resign, Kris,” he told her simply. “You have your whole career ahead of you. Mine is over.”

“But, you could be an admiral,” Kristen reminded him.

“I don’t want to be an admiral,” Brodie told her sincerely. “I never did. And now, after twenty years of giving it all to the Navy, all I want is you.”

Kristen felt her lip quiver slightly as she stepped forward. She took his offered hand and slipped up behind him on the bike. Brodie handed her a helmet. She wiped away a few tears on the back of his jacket and then pulled on the helmet. She then slipped her arms around him, pulling her body close to him and letting the tears of joy fall as they may.

“What was the other question?” she asked him lovingly.

“Where to?” Brodie responded as he balanced the bike and prepared to start it.

She kissed the back of his neck, nestled against him, and offered in a hoarse whisper, “How about wherever life takes us?”

“Aye-aye, ma’am.”

Puget Sound, Twelve Years Later

“G
ood morning, Captain Brodie,” Ensign Tara Neal reported as she came up on the bridge to relieve the current lookouts so they could go below and get some lunch before the galley closed.

Her captain offered a reassuring nod in greeting. The captain was seated on the sail behind the bridge and looking toward the south as they moved past the last point of land before clearing Puget Sound and entering the broad blue Pacific.

Tara was one of three female officers on board the
USS California
, the newest SSBN in the American arsenal. Although a bit intimidated by the living legend seated on the sail, she counted herself fortunate to have gotten assigned to the
California
. Any officer who hoped to one day gain a submarine command of their own fought tooth and nail to be assigned to the
California
for one reason: a stamp of approval from the paragon of the submarine forces who currently commanded the
California
would all but guarantee a fast track to command.

Tara recalled her first meeting with the skipper in the captain’s stateroom when she’d reported aboard, literally trembling with nervous energy. The captain’s stateroom walls were covered with numerous pictures of skydiving, sailing, motorcycle riding, fishing expeditions, camping, and family vacations from seemingly everywhere. Each picture included the captain and the man she assumed was the captain’s husband. He had thick, slightly graying hair that appeared to always be blowing in the wind, and many of the pictures also included a pair of young boys.

But, the most interesting picture had been one of the captain taken years earlier in front of the old
USS Seawolf.
The picture showed the captain holding up a bulletproof vest with a pair of Navy SEALs beside her. She’d heard rumors of the captain’s past exploits, and Tara knew her captain had a rather impressive list of decorations including a Navy Cross from one of her clandestine missions.

“What’s the latest project, Skipper?” The Chief of the Boat, Master Chief Gameroz asked from where he sat perched beside the captain.

The captain looked through her binoculars at a house nestled high on the bluff. Mount Olympus formed the backdrop for the grey cottage-style home overlooking the Pacific Ocean. As she looked, a broad smile crossed her face. “Oh, you know, Sean,” she replied. “It’s supposed to be a surprise, COB.”

“I bet it’s a game room,” Gameroz suggested.

“Nope,” she answered. “He built one during our last patrol.”

“What is it, COB?” Tara asked only aware of rumors about her legendary captain’s exploits and not privy to her personal life.

Gameroz pointed toward the house on the bluff. Tara raised her twenty-power binoculars and saw the beautiful home, complete with a white picket fence. She followed the steps down to the beginnings of a dock where a man, with wild flowing hair, stood. Beside him, two boys, one perhaps ten and the other a couple of years younger, stood and waved at the passing submarine. The man leaned calmly against the railing, a stack of lumber behind him and a wooden tool box at his feet with hammers and handsaws visible. “The captain’s husband likes to surprise her with new additions to their home after every patrol,” the no nonsense, hard-as-nails Chief of the Boat explained.

“It damn well better not be another nursery,” the captain replied with a playful smile.

Tara glanced back at her captain, who was usually a rock of self-control. She then saw the captain tear up momentarily as she put her fingers to her lips and waved the two boys and the man a kiss. Tara glanced back, looking through her binoculars to see the two boys still waving goodbye as the man returned the kiss across the waves.

The End