Tomahawk (24 page)

 

 

 

The plains of Alberta and Saskatchewan became the mountains of Montana and Wyoming. He changed in Denver, and more mountains and more plains rolled beneath the 737. He felt suspended for the last part of the flight. Floating somewhere beyond time, not above the earth, but above his life; so that if he only knew how he could bail out, like old D. B. Cooper punching out with his satchel of cash, and drift back down into the past.

He remembered one perfect day in Sicily, waking with gulls crying in the sleepy sky and the sun turning a flat and perfect sea to liquid bronze. And studying his wife's sleeping face for a long time, in the endless morning light.

He hadn't known it, but it had been coming apart even then.

He'd come back from a two-week underway period to find the apartment empty. He'd gone out and bought a fifth of scotch, and sat on the floor, holding an old, outgrown set of Nan's jumpers—and cried. And drank, till it didn't hurt anymore.

It would be different with Kerry. And now, having her, he couldn't regret anything.

All is for the best
Wasn't that what Alan Evlin had told him as
Reynolds Ryan
fought thirty-foot seas, the old destroyer and half her crew already doomed to a fiery death?

He picked up a rental car in Salt Lake City, and put the air on and drove until he saw the Rockies floating in the
distance, and searched out Desertflower Road.

When the house came into sight, a girl in shorts and a halter top was sitting on the porch. For a moment he thought she must be a babysitter. Then he saw she was his daughter. Her long brown legs came down off the porch rail as he stopped on the path, looking up.

“Punkin?”

“Hi, Dad. Come on up, Mom and Theodore are inside. Did you have a good flight?”

“It was okay. Gosh, you're getting so big I hardly recognized you.” He climbed the steps and held her tight, feeling tears sting his eyes. All too quickly, she let go and stepped away.

He followed her inside, through the house—the kind he'd always hated, with big highceilinged rooms and low furniture and modern paintings—and out onto a patio. Vines twined into overhead sunshades. Mauve canvas hung in loops, stirring in a faint breeze. The sunlight made a checkerboard of light and shade on a Mexican tile deck with chicken-tracks across it, frozen forever into the tile itself. Beyond a textured adobe wall the mountains floated like tethered white balloons. He went down handhewn wooden steps to a screened pool. They were waiting for him there. Nan stood for a moment, then turned and stripped her top and then her shorts off. Dan gaped at her pale bottom. She dove into the pool nude.

Ted Feynman was spindly and fishbelly white, as if he didn't get to spend much time by his fancy pool. He shook Dan's hand as if he was used to meeting people he wasn't expected to like.

His ex-wife lay with ankles crossed, hair pulled back, eyes unreadable behind utilitarian-looking sunglasses. She'd gained some weight, but it didn't look bad. She was tanned the butterscotch dark she always turned in summer. “Dan. We saved you a chair, and Richard has a spare suit, if you didn't think to take one to Canada.”

“Thanks, I think I'll stay out of the water today.”

“How long are you with us?”

“Just for tonight. Flight out tomorrow. I had to take three days of leave to get that.”

“Dan gets four weeks of vacation a year, on paper. But
he hardly takes any,” Susan explained. “So how's Canada? Whereabouts were you?”

“Alberta.”

“Pretty cold up there this time of year.”

“Yeah, and lots of snow. Ever get snow here?”

“We don't get a lot of precipitation of any sort. Everything you see is low-water-use gardening.” Feynman gestured over raked pebbles and bare rock, sagebrush and here and there a tormented-looking juniper. “But when we do get a little rain, boy, some amazing things bloom. What can I get you? Gin and tonic sound inviting?”

“No, thanks, I'm cutting down these days.”

“Iced tea?”

“He hates iced tea,” Susan said. “They made him drink it at the Academy for four years, so he won't touch it.”

“An iced tea, sure,” Dan told Feynman, who hesitated, then nodded and went back toward the house

He asked her, “How's your dad doing? And your mom?”

“They're fine.” She caught him up on Nan's grandparents and about some of their former friends. Meanwhile he watched his daughter swimming laps. When she reached the far end he asked, “Do you think that's smart? Letting her swim naked in front of her stepfather?”

“It's not a problem, Dan. But it's nice of you to feel concern for your daughter.”

“Well, if you hadn't located as far away from me as you could get—”

“Wait a minute. Wait!” She held up a hand. “This is going to be a long,
long
day if you take everything I say as an accusation. For God's sake, not everything I do is predicated on hurting you. I'm an American specialist. This is close to my work. Ted treats Nan like his own daughter. He has two, by the way.”

“That's nice.” He looked away as his daughter climbed out. She wrapped a towel around herself and plumped down beside her mom.

“What are you doing in Canada, Dad?”

“Testing a new missile.”

“Really? A space-type missile?”

“No. A weapon-type missile.”

“Don't we have enough of those?”

“This is a new kind.”

“Is that good for your career? Dan is pretty much married to the Navy,” Susan explained to Feynman, who had come back with a glass.

Dan took a wary sip, making sure there wasn't any alcohol in it. Then shrugged. “Actually, I'm thinking of getting out.”

She didn't respond for a moment. Then she said, “Are you serious? You wouldn't do that for us.”

“Would it have kept you around?”

“No. It wouldn't have. It was a detour. Not the main highway.”

“Remember Taormina?” he asked her. “I was thinking about that on the flight down. That morning, the kid who caught that sea urchin for you, wanted you to eat it—”

“Erculiano,” she said. “Funny, the things you remember. I miss Italy.”

“I've always wanted to see Ravenna,” said Feynman, sounding very hearty.

Dan said, “There were some good times.”

“But damn few,” she said. “You know what mostly I remember? Being pregnant and alone in that stinky little duplex in Newport. Not knowing anybody. Too fat to drive, and listening to the landlord slapping his wife around through the bedroom wall. But now you're getting out? Why?”

He didn't feel like telling her about Kerry and everything else, so he just said, “I don't know. I've done a lot of sea time. Did I tell you I'm working on my master's?”

“Really? I finished my doctorate last year. Do you remember Professor Rentzey, in Cyprus … no, you don't. He was on the review committee. But what will you do?”

“I might go to California. Do something in the software field.” He glanced at Nan, trying to see how she'd react to having him closer. “I could get over more often then.” . “I know a fellow there. Company does operating systems for microcomputers,” Feynman contributed. “I could give him a call.”

“I'll keep it in mind.”

“Just make sure it's what you really want to do,” said
Susan. “Because once they hire you, you'll never leave. My former husband here is not a guy with a lot of emotional range, Ted, but he's loyal.”

“Thanks,” Dan said. He felt abruptly sick of being urbane and pleasant, and also of being described in the past tense. “Hey, Punkin, want to go out and get some ice cream?”

“Sure, Dad.”

“Put some clothes on first.”

“Sure.” She gave him a sly smile. “Do you play tennis?”

“Tennis? I used to.”

“She's a whiz,” said Feynman. “She's been to tennis camp, goes to USTA training sessions—she's a phenom. Plays way above her age level.”

“Well, maybe I'll get to try her.” He got up; waited in the house while she changed, glancing through a coffee-table book about Taos; and could only breathe again when they were driving back down the graveled road toward the highway.

He'd been afraid, seeing her so tall and mature, that she wouldn't like the gift he'd gotten her—a Cowgirl Barbie; but either she wasn't too old yet for dolls, or she was sparing Dad's feelings. Christ, he felt old around her. It was the first time he'd felt that way and he didn't like it. But she told him over a sundae about her private school and how tough the teachers were and how dorky the uniform made you look. He told her about the cruise missile office, then about Kerry. When he showed her a picture she looked at it for a while, then handed it back silently.

“I'm going to ask her to marry me, but I don't expect an answer right away. She takes her time. Something you can do, too, when you're old enough to start thinking about dating.”

“Are you and she going to have kids?”

“What?”

“After you're married. Are you going to have more kids?”

“Oh, I don't know. We haven't gotten that far yet.”

“Then I'd have a half-sister.”

“Or brother. But yeah.” He hesitated. “Look, this Ted guy. If he ever bothers you, I want you to call me right away. Understand?”

“Ted doesn't bother me, Dad. He's really hooked on Mom.”

“What kind of doctor is he?”

“He's a proctologist.”

“Is he really?”

“Ha, ha! Wouldn't you love it if he was? He's a dermatologist. A skin doctor. And he's a pretty nice guy, Dad, he really is. But if he ever bothers me, I'll call you right away, all right?”

“Good.” He hesitated, then took her hand, wondering where the years had gone. No, he knew: he'd pumped them into the fucking Navy. “Do you remember when we all lived together?”

“Sort of. Flashes.”

“I'm sorry we had to break up, Punkin. It wasn't my idea.”

“I know, Dad. But don't get upset about it, okay? It's not so bad.”

“I want you to come and spend some time with us, when we get a place.”

“We'll see.” She detached her hand, glanced at her watch with an astonishingly adult turn of her head. Sometimes she looked just like Susan … or was that him in those gray eyes? … “We ought to
get
back, we're going to be late for dinner.”

Dinner sucked. Not that it was bad; Feynman did a good steak and lobster. But Dan didn't like the guy, and Susan kept giving him low-level jabs. But then he went off with Nan again and they played foosball in the game room. At ten Susan called down; it was time for her to go to bed. Dan stayed down there, watching TV. The news had an interesting segment on Libyan support of terrorist movements in Egypt and Sudan. Khaddafi was exporting his revolution, trying to destabilize the rest of North Africa. There were also rumors of advanced weapons development. It wasn't that long ago he'd read that in an intelligence summary. Seemed like very little that was secret
stayed secret long . .. like the leak from the Tomahawk office … He turned the set off and sat rubbing his mouth, running that situation through his mind again. He came to no conclusions, and when he went back upstairs Susan was there, alone.

“Where's the doc?”

“Reading the journals. Keeping up.” She put her novel aside. “We used to have a guest bedroom, but with his office, and my study, we've used up the space in this house. I put some sheets in the game room, for the couch.”

“That'll be fine.”

He started to leave, but she pointed to a chair. “Want to talk for a minute?”

He squatted and she said, “Nan tells me you've met somebody. That you're thinking of getting marrried again.”

“Uhhuh.”

“Well, this is news. Tell me about her.”

He shrugged. “Not much to tell.”

“How did you meet?”

He thought about explaining, or trying to explain. Finally he just said, “At a costume party.”

“Gee, this feels just like old times, Dan. Me sitting here while you sit over there, and I try to pry facts out of you one by one. What does she do? Besides go to costume parties?”

“She works at a soup kitchen in the inner city.”

“That sounds more like volunteering.”

He thought about saying,
She's also under indictment for sabotage.
Instead he said, “She's still deciding on what she wants to do with her life, I think.”

“Do you really want to take another chance like that?”

“I think I'm past the point of making a decision about it.”

“Can I offer you some advice? Based on knowing you? Make sure she wants to devote her life to Dan Lenson. There are women like that. You don't want some idealistic kid—”

“She's not a
kid
—”

“—who'll change her mind and walk out on you. This may sound strange to you, but I care if you get hurt. And
I don't think you're going to be happy away from the sea and ships. You threw us overboard in a second when we decided we didn't want to go along—”

“That's not true. What are you talking about? Jesus, Susan, you just said, by the pool, it wouldn't have made any difference—”

“What else do you expect me to say, in front of Ted? You could have tried. But it never crossed your mind. Don't you think I remember all the crap you unloaded on me? All this rah rah Navy, we're the front line, defending the Free World mentality. It sort of made sense at the time … but I never quite understood why we had to do our defending that far away.”

“You think the Med's far away? The Pacific? Not in this century.”

“The world looks different from the middle of America. A lot more distant.”

“Well, we're still out there.”