Midway Between You and Me (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Rogenna Brewer

  He showed her around the house. The painters were still in the second bedroom, one on each wall applying sea foam and just as many working on the white trim. Missing tiles in the bathroom and kitchen had been replaced and the floors were in the process of being stripped and buffed to a high gloss.

  “My floors have never been so clean,” she commented.

  “I’m afraid we had to do the kitchen cabinets in haze gray,” he told her. The floor tile was industrial, gray flecked, and it made a nice contrast to the sea foam and white. That’s what the guys had told him, anyway. And they were all being good sports about the house.

  The men started moving in furniture, and the small house got a little crowded, so Bowie and Tam stepped into the backyard, where he had another Seabee mowing the lawn.

  “What can I say, except, thank you.”

  “Are you starting to think I’m not such a bad guy after all?”

  “No, I’m starting to think you’re a kiss-up,” she teased.

  All he could do was laugh. She had him pegged. But there was only one set of lips he wanted to kiss.

  “Has this kiss-up earned himself a date for movie night?”

  “Are you asking?”

  “I’m asking.”

  “What’s playing?”

  “Ever hear of The Fighting Seabees?”

  “No, I can’t say that I have.”

  “Then you’re in for a real treat. It’s got John Wayne in it.”

  “I thought he played cowboys.”

  “Honey, Seabees are cowboys. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  2100 Sunday

  THE THEATER; NAVAL AIR FACILITY

  Sand Island, Midway Islands

  “SO WHAT’D YOU THINK?” Bowie asked as they exited the base theater.

  Tam removed her glasses and tucked them away. “I think I just sat through the longest recruiting film in history, next to Top Gun, of course.”

  “Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

  “I didn’t say it was bad.” She’d spent most of the movie watching Bowie watch the movie, but she did get the gist of the picture. It’d been a private screening. He’d opened the theater and run the projection booth—which is where they’d sat—just to show her the movie. “I just don’t understand why he drove the whatchamajigger—”

  “Bulldozer,” he supplied for her.

  “Yeah, that, into the fuel dump and killed himself.”

  “He didn’t kill himself, he sacrificed himself and the fuel reserve so that the Japanese taking over the island wouldn’t be able to use it.”

  “I understand that. But I wanted him to jump off at the last minute. He had every reason to live. That journalist was in love with him.”

  “She was engaged to another officer. He did the honorable thing.”

  “You’re such a guy.” Maybe she hadn’t meant it as a compliment. But in his case it was.

  “So what else is there to do on this island at twenty-one hundred hours?” he asked.

  Tam suppressed a yawn. “Bed,” she said. “And that wasn’t an invitation,” she added before he could utter a quick comeback.

  “I get the hint,” he said.

  They were moving in the direction of her new house, but taking their time. He carried a flashlight but hadn’t turned it on. Instead they walked in the moonlight. Clapping gooney beaks and crashing surf was their music.

  They’d reached the front door of her new house. She’d had very little to do to settle in. “Did you want to come in?”

  He arched a brow, clearly unsure of what her invitation involved. Well, she didn’t know, either.

  Bowie let the screen close behind him, but stood near the door as if gauging his welcome.

  She felt rather awkward herself. “There’s beer in the fridge. Make yourself at home. After all, you did make this a home.” Lame, really lame. She had a master’s for heaven’s sake. Couldn’t she come up with something better than that? Time to regroup. “I’ll just be a minute,” she said, walking into her bedroom.

  The new-paint smell had all but disappeared, though she might pull her mattress onto the porch for the night. Maybe she could ask him to help. No, not a good idea getting him anywhere near the bed.

  But before she went to bed, she had to make a phone call. Here it was Mother’s Day and she had yet to speak to her mother. First she’d been busy. Then the phone lines had been busy.

  She picked up the desk phone. Not even a dial tone, just a busy signal. The phone system on the island was basically one big party line. Not in the conventional sense, but outgoing lines could get tied up rather easily. And with all the Seabees and their support personnel, she imagined there were a lot of mothers on the receiving end of phone calls tonight. And a lot yet to be made.

  Of course she hadn’t recharged her cell phone. “Damn!”

  “Something the matter?” He stood in the doorway and offered her a beer.

  She took it. Twisting the top, she couldn’t help but whine, “You don’t happen to have your cell phone on you, do you?”

  “Afraid not, I loaned it out. The guys all want to call home for Mother’s Day. But they’re having trouble getting out on these old phone lines.”

  “It’s too late, anyway. It’s after midnight in San Francisco. I’m a terrible daughter.”

  “It’s never too late. And you just happen to be looking at a ham radio operator. There’s a ham radio shack down by the watchtower, isn’t there? What do you say we go check it out?”

  “You’re a lifesaver,” she said. Like everything on the island, the ham radio shack was just a brisk walk away.

  “It’s locked,” she said, noting the padlock in dismay once they got there.

  He tried the door and it opened a crack; only the padlock held it in place. “This is nothing,” he said, shining the flashlight on the lock. “The door’s rotten. The lock won’t give, but I bet the door will.” He put his shoulder into it and rammed the door.

  It flew open. And he gave her the most adorable I-told-you-so look.

  The unused shack was dusty, but the equipment worked. They brushed off a couple of chairs and sat down. He had them connected to another ham operator in no time, and eventually through the network they reached one in California not too far from home.

  The lieutenant gave his operator number and introduced himself. “This is Lieutenant Bowie Prince calling from Midway Islands. Can you patch me through to a number in San Fran? We’ll cover any long-distance charges. It’s for a Mother’s Day phone call home. Over.”

  “Be happy to, sailor. Was in the Navy myself, so this call’s on me. Over.”

  “Thank you.” He relayed the number Tam gave him, then advised her on ham protocol while the phone rang. “Sorry, it’s not exactly private. You’ve got two operators, me and the other guy listening in. Keep it short. Over, is the signal for me to switch from talk to listen, so remember to say it. Ready?”

  She nodded.

  They heard her mother pick up. “Hello?”

  The other operator explained what was going on.

  “Hello, Tam?” her mother said. “Over.”

  “Mom, it’s so good to hear your voice. I hope I didn’t wake you. I just wanted to say happy Mother’s Day. Over.”

  “You didn’t wake me. It’s good to hear your voice, too. Over.”

  They talked for a few more minutes before saying goodbye. Not really a conversation, but a connection.

  After Lan hung up, Bowie thanked the stranger on the other end, exchanged a bit of information, then signed off.

  Tam was so content she didn’t even feel like moving. “Again, thank you.”

  “Here’s the guy’s address.” He handed her a piece of scrap paper. “You may want to thank him, too.”

  “I think that deserves a kiss.” She brushed her lips, soft like butterfly wings, across his. When she pulled back to look into his eyes, she could almost feel her heart taking flight. But what surprised her most was that he didn’t swoop down on her.
He gave her room to fly.

  0100 Monday

  LAN NGUYEN’S HOME

  San Francisco, California

  “YOUR DAUGHTER?” SHANE asked, hitting the eject button on the VCR.

  “Calling to wish me a happy Mother’s Day,” Lan answered, hanging up the phone in the kitchen. She came into the living room just as the movie popped out. “I’m so sorry, I completely ignored you. And I missed the end of the movie.”

  “There’ll be other movies. You only have one daughter.” Shane boxed the two videos he’d brought over for the evening and pushed to his feet. “It’s late, I should get going.”

  What she should do was beg him to stay the night, what was left of it, anyway. He treated her with such kindness and expected nothing in return. Maybe he hoped she’d return his affection, though he knew she wouldn’t.

  “Thank you for keeping me company.”

  “Not at all,” he said, putting his arm through the sleeve of his leather jacket. She stepped behind him to help with the other sleeve as he switched the videos from one hand to the other.

  “I almost forgot I have a check for you.”

  “How many times have I told you I don’t want your money, Lan?”

  “But you need it to keep your business going. If you won’t take it for helping me, take it so that you can continue to help others,” she insisted, retrieving the check from the breakfast counter.

  She handed it to him. He glanced at the generous amount and furrowed his brows. A handsome man of forty-seven with only a bit of gray in his brown hair, he could look awfully stern at times. Hard living, she supposed.

  He’d fought in Vietnam at seventeen. And at forty-seven he fought to reunite veterans and their families, his way of making peace with his past. Or so he’d told her.

  “I’m going to find your husband, Lan.”

  “I know you will.” He didn’t have to add dead or alive. They’d already discussed it. She just wanted to find her peace with the past. And then maybe she could move on.

  But what about Tam, would she ever find peace?

  After Shane left, Lan wandered the rooms of her empty town house, turning out the lights. She’d chosen this city, Skully’s city, thinking fate would bring them back together. But she’d never bumped into him on the street the way she did in her dreams.

  In her bedroom, she changed into silky pajamas of her own design and picked up her sketch pad from the nightstand, but then couldn’t settle into work.

  The hours just before dawn were the hardest. She picked up an enlarged reproduction of Skully’s photograph. From the picture, Shane had said Skully was probably Special Operations and would be difficult but not impossible to find. He said they were called “men with green faces.”

  She could hardly remember what that face looked like under all that paint. No doubt the lines had become a little more pronounced, a little harder. Or softer, maybe. His hair would be threaded with silver. Or even missing.

  But his eyes would still be as blue as the China Sea.

  She set his picture back on the nightstand, next to Tam’s, and crawled under the covers. She was so happy her daughter had called, but Mother’s Day shouldn’t feel this lonely.

  Fall 1972

  Hanoi, Vietnam

  BIAN XANG HAD TAKEN LAN to his home in Hanoi, where he was warden of the prisoner-of-war camp. By the time they reached his residence, she was in full labor from the trauma and travel. Her feet were still swollen from the ant bites and all over her body she had little red marks.

  Still, she fought the labor. “Please, Bian-san, swear you will not hurt my child.”

  He remained stern-faced as his mother and the other women of his household led her to a small bedroom. They were fussing over her, but not out of kindness.

  “You were mine, betrothed to me. You betrayed me!” He pounded his chest and roared like a wounded cat. She knew he loved her and she would use that against him if she had to.

  “Please, Bian-san. Please.” She broke away from the women and fell to his feet. “I beg your forgiveness. Do anything you want with me. But please do not hurt my child. The child is innocent. It is the mother who is guilty.”

  She looked up and searched his face for any sign of forgiveness. A handsome man, he stood proud.

  There were tears in his eyes, but he remained firm. “Fate will decide. I will not allow his bastard to live. But a daughter belongs to her mother.”

  “No, no!” she screamed, clutching her belly as the women once again hauled her to her feet.

  The pains grew worse and she labored for many more hours, thinking Xang might kill her baby. Finally they took the child from her and wrapped it without letting her see if she’d borne a son or a daughter.

  Then exhaustion claimed her and she slept. When she awoke Xang stood at the foot of the bed with the swaddled infant. “You have a daughter,” he announced.

  She wept for sheer joy, but when she held out her arms he didn’t move.

  “Bian-san, your promise,” she reminded him, sitting up in the bed, preparing for the worst.

  CHAPTER NINE

  0600 Monday

  TAM’S HOUSE; NAVAL AIR FACILITY

  Sand Island, Midway Islands

  TAM AWOKE TO THE SMELL of bacon and eggs and coffee. She crawled up onto her knees and peeked out her open bedroom door.

  “Morning.” Bowie stood in her kitchen in his utility uniform, moving with surprising efficiency between the stove and a tray sitting on her small kitchen table. “If you stay there, I’ll bring this to you.”

  But she got up and went to him. The tray was laden with juice, coffee, tea. She picked up the juice and took a sip. “If you tell me you hand-squeezed this I may have to kill you.”

  “Crabby again, are we? I thought that was only when you were kept up all night.” He added a plate with what appeared to be his famous western omelet and two crisp bacon strips laid out on each side of the eggs.

  “So this is what a real breakfast looks like.”

  “Now, where are we going to eat it?” he asked as he buttered toast. “You ruined my surprise.”

  “You ruined your surprise when the smell of food started coming from my kitchen. The deck?” she suggested, picking up the tray.

  He plucked the hibiscus flower from the tray and tucked it behind her ear. Her breath caught and she didn’t exhale until they were outside in the open air.

  She set the tray down on the patio table. He followed her to the door with a cup of coffee in his hand, then leaned against the frame. He seemed content to stand there and look out over the ocean.

  “You are going to join me, aren’t you?” she asked, unloading the tray. Even though there was only one plate there was enough food to feed two. Or at least, feed her and whet his appetite.

  “I have to be at the job site in an hour,” he said, checking his watch. “But breakfast with you was the plan.”

  She sat first, then he sat across from her. When he didn’t take the chair right next to hers she propped up her feet and prepared to enjoy her breakfast thoroughly.

  She took a bite of the omelet, then offered one to him since they only had one fork between them. While they ate, she realized that, out of habit, she’d left her door unlocked, which explained his presence but not the food.

  “You didn’t find bacon in my fridge.”

  “I stocked up for you. If you need anything, all you have to do is ask. We came with plenty of stores, but we also have the twice-a-week supply runs.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Support personnel should be arriving any day to open up the chow hall and Navy Exchange. In fact, we’ll have chaplains, dentists, doctors and lawyers in and out periodically.”

  He told her about his plans for the day. And did delicious things to her feet, which had somehow wound up in his lap. She reached over with a bite of egg, then a strip of bacon, anything to ensure he kept massaging.

  But as much as she enjoyed it, in the back of her mind there was a li
ttle voice chanting, hooch girl, hooch girl.

  0700 Sunday

  TAM’S HOUSE; NAVAL AIR FACILITY

  Sand Island, Midway Islands

  BOWIE HAD SHOWED UP every day for a week to cook and eat breakfast with Tam, followed by a visit to his parrot before heading to the job site. On Tuesday she’d given him the guided tour of the island, and by Sunday he was feeling like one half of a married couple.

  The thought scared him to death. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to stop their morning ritual.

  He’d arrived an hour later than usual, thinking she’d sleep in on Sunday.

  “Tam,” he called as he entered her house. He made a point of never crossing that line into her bedroom. Not that he didn’t want to. Just that he could tell she wasn’t ready.

  Maybe Tam would want to go with him to the nondenominational services he’d arranged for that morning. They pretty much shared their plans every day, even made a point of bumping into each other or keeping in touch by two-way radio.

  She didn’t answer, and he walked right up to her bedroom door, expecting to find her snuggled under the covers. Empty. Her bed was made, her house neat. Where was she?

  It took him more than an hour to find her, and by that time he’d started to worry. She still wore her pajamas and was stretched into some kind of tai chi pose.

  She didn’t look up when he stopped and stood beside her, but he could tell she knew he was there.

  “Am I your hooch girl?” she asked.

  “My what?” He’d never even heard of the term.

  “Some guys call them their laundress, their housekeeper…temporary wife. Someone to play house with.” She dropped her arms and looked right at him. “Are you thinking of moving in?”

  He removed his hat, so she could really see his eyes. “The thought had crossed my mind, I mean there’s nothing to stop us, but we’re not there yet.”

  “But that’s where all this is leading, right? You’re making yourself comfortable while you’re here. But you’re not going to be here that long.”

  “Tam, I’ve treated you with nothing but respect.”

  “Of course you have. You’re courting me. But for what purpose? To get me in the sack, or are we building a nest like those gooneys over there.”