Navy Orders

by Geri Krotow

  As if he’d flicked an invisible switch, her laughter turned to soft sobs.

  “Aww, come here, babe.” He pulled her into what had to be the most awkward position for a hug. But it was the best hug she’d ever had. He held her while she quietly cried into his shoulder, never telling her to be careful of his jacket while her eye makeup ran all over it.

  “You’re very kind, Miles.” She sniffed.

  “I’ll blame that on the sadness of the day. You’ll remember why you hate me in the morning.”

  “Don’t make jokes at a time like this. It’s... uncouth.”

  “That’s my girl. See, your fight’s coming back.” He pulled back as much as the cramped passenger seat allowed and raised her chin with his finger. His long, lean finger. She sighed.

  “Ro, I can’t kiss you. Not here, not in uniform. So don’t give me that look.”

  “How am I—?”

  He shook his head, a slight but definite move.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’d love nothing more than to kiss the sadness away until all you think about is me, us. But I’m not going to take ‘us’ anywhere you don’t want it to go.”

  She drew back and flipped down her visor mirror.

  “I look like hell.”

  “Your eye was much worse a few days ago.”

  She stuck out her tongue at him.

  “Thanks a lot, comrade.”

  He laughed and the low, warm sound of it soothed her aching muscles and the weight that had sat on her chest since she’d woken Monday morning and realized she’d gotten in too deep, too fast—with the worst possible match for her.

  It’s not that he’s the worst match for you. It’s because he just may be the best.

  She studied him as she pressed on the clutch and turned the key in the ignition.

  “Let’s get back to the wing, shall we?”

  Ro backed her car out of its space and switched to first gear, ready to leave the parking lot.

  “Ro, stop!” Miles had his arm in front of her.

  She stepped on the brake and clutch.

  “Why?”

  He didn’t reply; he didn’t have to. She followed his line of sight to where a base police car and an Island County sheriff’s cruiser had parked sideways, lights rotating, in front of the main sidewalk to the chapel.

  “What the heck?” She craned around Miles’s head to see what the big deal was.

  Two sheriff’s deputies were escorting a handcuffed woman to the cruiser.

  “Is that Master Chief Reis?” She barely breathed the words.

  “Yes.” Miles’s mouth was a grim straight line and the vein on the side of his temple stood out.

  “Why on earth would they do this here, now, when the family can see it?”

  “The family’s not out here, Ro. They’re in the chapel with Perez’s remains.” Miles turned to her, his eyes a stormy blue. “They did it in front of the wing, hell, most of the base.”

  “Sending a message? And what would they arrest her on?”

  “What we told Ramsey must’ve had some truth to it—maybe it’s about the airframe issue.”

  “No, it can’t be. That’s navy business and she’d be court martialed—the civilian LEAs wouldn’t want to touch it with a ten-meter pole.”

  Miles nodded. “You’re absolutely right. That leaves us with one conclusion,” he said.

  Ro gasped. “You don’t think she killed him, do you?”

  * * *

  RO PRACTICALLY CRAWLED into her house after she drove home from work. The grief of Perez’s funeral had been topped by seeing a woman she’d thought of as the best command master chief in the fleet arrested in front of all her subordinates.

  The vision haunting her the most was that of the commodore as she and Miles had pulled away from the chapel. The sheer relief on his face was palpable. As if he could go on now, as if maybe the entire wing could put this behind them.

  As if the death of a sailor was nothing more than an aircraft mishap to be studied, filed and forgotten.

  The house smelled of apples and cinnamon.

  Oh, no. Not now.

  “Roanna! Honey child, I’ve missed you so much!” She was enveloped in one of Delores’s immense hugs, a huge smack of a kiss bestowed upon her cheek. Her injured cheek.

  “Oh, my, honey—Krissy said you had a shiner but I had no idea you had stitches, too! Come over here and let me see you.”

  “Mom, I’m not in the mood for this.”

  “You’re never in the mood for your family, Roanna. What else is new? Now turn around so I can see how you really are. Are you eating enough? You’re still running, aren’t you?”

  Ro stared at Delores, her mother and the source of many hours of therapy that she’d paid for out of pocket so it wouldn’t show up on her navy medical records. Even though it was perfectly acceptable to receive counseling while on active duty, Ro had preferred to keep her anonymity.

  She bit back a grin. Miles would be shocked to know the rigid officer he pegged her for had broken some rules of her own.

  Delores looked good. At least her hair was no longer that awful “silver-fox” gray her mother had called it. Delores was wearing it short, like Ro’s, but instead of her natural brunette, she sported a particular shade of red that reminded Ro of the eggplant-hued dyes that were common in many parts of Europe.

  “You look good, Mom.”

  “Thank you, honey. You’ve been better, but you look okay, too.” Always a twist, always a thorn with any compliment.

  “When did you get in?” Ro kicked off her boots and shrugged out of her fleece hoodie. She left both in the hallway. She’d pick them up later.

  “This morning. Krissy and Dick came to get me in Seattle. You know I hate those pesky commuter puddle-jumpers.”

  “They’re safer than driving two hours on I-5, Mom.” Ro headed to the kitchen for a glass of sparkling water and Delores followed on her heels.

  “What smells so delicious?” Of course she knew the answer. Mom always made her an apple crumb pie wherever she’d visited her, be it in the States or overseas. It had been Ro’s favorite as a kid, while Krissy preferred a fluffy lemon meringue pie. Ro liked to think she was more practical than anyone in the family, even when it came to dessert choices.

  “You know what it is, honey. Your favorite! Dick and Krissy are out at the grocery store getting the best vanilla ice cream they can find to go with it. I said to be sure it’s made from real cream, because I don’t want to put a chemical cocktail on top of a homemade treat!”

  “I’m sure you did.” Ro held up her bottle of water. “Can I get you something, Mom?”

  “Oh, no, honey, you know me. I make myself right at home wherever I go.”

  That she did.

  “Mom, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I really need to lie down. I have a splitting headache and this past week has been awful.”

  “Oh, no, you’re not fighting with your new boyfriend, are you?”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend, Mom.”

  “Krissy said you do, and that he’s perfect for you. All big and strong and very navylike.”

  Holy sockeye salmon, was nothing sacred in this family?

  Apparently not.

  “Mom, sorry to disappoint, but I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m a career girl, remember?”

  “It’s just that after the whole misunderstanding with Dick and Krissy, I thought you’d moved on.”

  “I’m going upstairs for a nap. We’ll do some more catching up at dinner.” Ro paused before she left Delores in the kitchen. “Where are you sleeping, Mom?”

  “Oh, I’ve already made up the sofa in the front room. I’ll be so nice and cozy there, with all the blankets you’ve made. I don’t know how
you find the time to knit when you have such a big job in the navy, Roanna.”

  “See you later, Mom.”

  Ro took the stairs two at a time despite her exhaustion.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  AT LUNCHTIME ON Thursday, Ro parked her car at the end of Coupeville’s Main Street. The tiny downtown clung to the banks of Puget Sound, its clapboard buildings reminiscent of a New England seaside village.

  She picked up the plastic bag of caps she’d knitted and headed for a large brown building. The downtown had been painted all white years ago for a Hollywood movie, but most of the shops and homes were back to their owners’ preferred hues.

  Ro admired the Whidbey Fibers sign that stuck out over the sidewalk at the yarn shop and fiber cooperative/clearing center. It was hand-scrolled cedar and had balls of yarn on one side and profiles of fiber-producing farm animals on the other. Ro recognized a llama, sheep, goat and rabbit.

  A bell jingled as she entered. Bins of spun wool in every imaginable color dotted the old wood-planked floor. Shelves as high as the ceilings spilled with skeins and hanks of yarn.

  Ro breathed in deeply. The combined scents of wool, lavender, cedar, pine and ocean water was like a balm to her soul. The hurt and shock from yesterday’s memorial service and Master Chief Reis’s arrest faded.

  She wished she could smell this in the hangar every day.

  She bit back a giggle.

  Yeah, right.

  “Can I help you—oh, Ro! Nice to see you again!”

  A lovely woman with fine features and wavy, shoulder-length blond hair, Winnie Ford, greeted her from behind the merchant counter. She’d entered from the door in the back wall of the shop.

  “I don’t have long to shop, but I wanted to drop off these chemo caps. I noticed your sign a few months ago and I meant to bring some of them in sooner, once I completed them, but I lost track of time.”

  “Easy to do when you’re on active duty. Have you had any more emergency landings?” Winnie referred to the emergency landing her husband, Max, had made with a B-17 bomber during Whidbey Island’s air show last year. Ro had been on board and had almost lost her life, too.

  Ro was unexpectedly pleased that Winnie asked.

  “No, I’ve stayed on solid ground for the most part.”

  “We talked about the knitting you did on the carrier the last time you were in here, didn’t we? Besides the chemo caps, are you still knitting regularly?”

  Ro laughed. “You have a great memory. Yes, I’m always knitting. I don’t know how not to knit. I’m sorry I haven’t been back more often.” She lovingly squeezed a hank of mulberry wine alpaca that was in a basket on the counter.

  “I get it, believe me. I’m married to a navy man. Retired now, but just as busy.” She smiled at Ro, who smiled back.

  “I heard via the island winds that you and Miles are an item.”

  Ro knew her flushing cheeks gave away the truth.

  “Yes, we’ve been spending time together, but we’re both so involved in our careers....” Winnie was nice but Ro wasn’t about to tell her the intimate details of her love life.

  Love life?

  “How long have you been in the navy, Ro?”

  “Just about ten years. I have another year or so here.”

  “And then where to?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Have you ever thought about getting out, starting something different?” Ro didn’t miss the speculative sparkle in Winnie’s eyes.

  “Not really. But I suppose I should at least weigh all my options.”

  What? Were these words coming out of her mouth?

  “You’re really talented, Ro. Just look at these caps!”

  Winnie reverently removed each cap from the plastic grocery bag. “Cable, intarsia, Fair Isle, brioche. Your choice of colors and fiber weights is spot-on. And I remember you not so much because you told me about knitting while at sea, but because of the lacework cardigan you were wearing that day.”

  Heat flashed up Ro’s neck. She was getting used to acknowledging her emotions while in uniform because of the upheaval Miles’s presence and Perez’s death had brought into her life. But this was different. This had nothing to do with her uniform, her military composure. It had everything to do with who she was as a person.

  A woman.

  The uniform wasn’t her entire identity, and Winnie, a passing acquaintance, recognized it.

  So had Gwen.

  “Thanks. I do love to knit.”

  “I know you’ve got lots of other talents or you wouldn’t have your position in the navy. What branch are you?” Winnie squinted at Ro’s warfare insignia that was pinned over her ribbons. “I don’t recognize that one.”

  Ro wore the Information Dominance insignia. It comprised a gold shield with the world, a sword and an anchor set on ocean waves. It was worn not just by intel but by other information and communications experts.

  “I’m support staff.” Ro was still reluctant to tell people she didn’t know well that she was an intelligence officer. It wasn’t classified or a secret by any means, but she preferred to err on the side of caution.

  “Well, I’m looking for someone to take over the business side of the shop for me, on the off chance you ever thought about getting out and doing something completely different. I want to focus exclusively on fiber production and sales. The island needs a yarn shop, though. It’s the heart of our crafting community, at least for knitters, crocheters and needlework folks. The quilters have their own thriving group.”

  Winnie ran her hands over her middle and, with a start, Ro realized that despite being skinny everywhere else, there was a bit of a tummy on her.

  What the hell—first Krissy, now Winnie. She’d heard navy wives joke that there was something in the Whidbey Island water supply that made everyone so fertile.

  Winnie didn’t miss Ro’s raised brow.

  “My husband and I just found out we’re going to have our third child. I’m not going to be able to give the yarn shop the attention it deserves.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find someone.” Ro started to drift away from the counter, distracted by all the luscious fibers and the visions of projects they evoked.

  “It takes a special person to run a yarn shop, Ro, you know that. How many yarn shops have you been in that you really loved? Where there are classes, and customers drop in to knit and share stories on a regular basis?”

  “Not many, but the ones I’ve found have been wonderful. You have a great shop.”

  “Thanks. I want it to stay great.” Winnie walked over to Ro. “Have you ever instructed a class in the navy?”

  Ro blinked.

  “Yes, I give training to aircrews on a regular basis.” She didn’t describe what kind of training and Winnie didn’t seem to care about it, anyhow.

  “Then you’d be a natural to teach knitting classes.”

  “Oh. Oh!” Ro clutched a skein of Italian merino wool to her chest. “I can’t possibly consider it—I mean, I’m really flattered that you think I’m a good knitter and all, I just, well, I can’t do anything besides the navy while I’m on active duty.”

  Winnie sighed. “Of course you can’t. I understand, believe me. And I’m really sorry if I’ve come on too strong—these damn pregnancy hormones have me reeling this time. You’d think after two babies I’d be fine with it the third time around.” She gave Ro a bemused smile.

  “It’s no problem, really.” Ro looked around the shop. “In another life, I’d jump at this. But I do have to provide for myself, my future.”

  At Winnie’s stricken expression, hot fingers of humiliation crept up Ro’s chest.

  “Oh, gosh, I don’t mean you wouldn’t pay well!”

  “But it’s the truth. I’d pay you a sala
ry, of course, with hope that as the future of the company improved so would your pay and benefits. But in this economy, with a luxury product, I can’t promise anyone anything.”

  A stillness overcame Ro. “And you shouldn’t have to. Whoever takes the job should love the work, be passionate about coming in here every day.”

  “You got it.”

  Ro looked at her watch. Thirty minutes before she had to be back on base. That left her ten more to play in the shop.

  “I’ve got to go but I want to buy enough of this to make a sweater.” Ro held out the skein of merino she’d crushed against her chest. Strands of it clung to her rows of ribbons and popped the magnetized decorations off her uniform.

  “Oh, no! Here, let me take that from you while you get yourself together. You can use the back storeroom.” Winnie gently removed the yarn from Ro’s hands and ushered her to the door in the wall.

  “Thanks, it’ll only take me a minute.” Ro smiled at Winnie and opened the door.

  Ro closed the door behind her and glanced up.

  She gasped.

  This was no ordinary storeroom. The ceiling rose toward the sky, like an aircraft hangar. Fiber in all forms was stored neatly on shelves, in bins, on drying racks next to dye pots. The entire place had to be as big as a football field.

  She walked into the center of the warehouse. Just for a minute.

  The energy that hummed through the dust motes made Ro smile again.

  She’d felt this sense of belonging only a handful of times in her life. One was when she was at the academy—as difficult as it was, she’d known it was part of her destiny. The other time was more recently.

  With Miles.

  “Come out when you’re done. Feel free to look around.” Winnie had opened the door a crack and spoke through it. Ro barely caught the words and started back toward the entry.

  “Sure thing. I’ll be just another minute.” The door closed and Ro was left alone in the magical space again.

  Her hands shook as she pulled her uniform blouse out from her slacks and unbuttoned it. She placed the ribbons and their magnetized backing in place and got dressed.

  Before she went back into the store, she cast a slow look around the warehouse.