by Lyn Cote
Alex flushed bright red. She gave Carly a quick nod and shy smile. “Thanks. Really. Thanks.” Then she turned away, obviously very embarrassed.
Carly didn’t blame her. Then the two of them finished undressing in silence, a peaceful one. Carly felt a deep sense of relief and satisfaction. She had her earrings back and could wear them at graduation. She now knew why Alex had behaved the way she had. And that made it easier to forgive and to put it all behind them.
When and if she recognized her father at graduation, would meeting him, seeing him, make her feel the same way about her mother?
July 15, 1990
Excitement tingled through Carly’s whole body. At the sweltering outdoor graduation ceremony, the base’s brass band had just finished playing the majestic national anthem. Carly stood in the ranks of the two hundred women of her company. She realized suddenly that she had a deeper pride in this accomplishment than in completing four years of high school in three. Eight weeks of boot camp had demanded more of her, pushed her to her limits. And she had survived.
One by one, each woman in her company marched forward to receive her next rank, E-2. After receiving her new insignia, Carly gazed out over the audience of family members that stretched as far back as she could see. At the last second, she located her stepfather’s wavy auburn hair. Her family sat halfway back on the left side. A spontaneous smile lifted her face as she looked toward them, hoping that they realized she recognized them.
Then for one second, her lungs contracted with disappointment. The chance of pinpointing her natural father in this mass of people appeared impossible. Besides, how would she know what to look for? She and her father might not look anything alike. I just don’t know. And that hurt.
Blinking back tears, she returned to her seat. The post commander stood and gave a speech about the dedication of the young women who had just completed basic training. At the end of her speech, she announced the name of the company’s distinguished honor graduate: “Carlyle Sinclair Gallagher.”
Carly sat petrified in her chair. Hands around her pushed her to her feet and guided her to the end of her row, where she straightened herself and marched forward onto the platform to receive her special commendation, based on her top scores and accomplishments. She was shaking so hard that she could barely say “Thank you” to the commander. But she managed to salute and grasp the hand that was offered to her. Then she marched back to her seat and sat down, her heart pounding.
And then it was over. Francie was hugging her. Other soldiers from her platoon were slapping her back. Alex stood back but gave Carly a thumbs-up. Then Carly saw Nate, wearing a lightweight tan suit, wending his way through the crowd toward her. Wishing everyone well, she turned and began pushing her way to him. The crowd of the surging bodies parted and there were her mother, her grandmother, and her great-grandmother.
Carly kissed both of Nate’s cheeks and hugged him. Then she was the one who received kisses and hugs. Finally, she was able to step back. One she loved was missing. “Where’s Aunt Kitty?”
Chloe put a frail arm around her. “Kitty’s heart is bothering her more and more. Thompson and his family are seeing after her, along with Rose, back at Ivy Manor. And little Michael is with her to keep her spirits up.”
Carly had a hard time believing that her indomitable great-great-aunt was slowing down, ailing enough to miss a family event. And Carly didn’t like the way this afternoon’s heat seemed to be affecting Chloe, who looked drawn and was pressing a vintage handkerchief to her perspiring forehead.
“Kitty has moved back full-time now to Ivy Manor to keep me company,” Chloe said.
“And she can be closer to Thompson,” Leigh added.
“We’re so proud of you,” Nate said, pulling Carly into a one-armed hug. “Distinguished honor grad!”
“Well, what would you expect?” Leigh asked archly.
Carly’s mother was wearing a blue outfit that shrieked designer original, something she rarely did outside of New York. Was it a conscious or subconscious effort to show that she was a cut above the other parents there? Carly bristled with the injustice of her mother’s very evident and very low opinion of Carly’s peers. She wouldn’t let her mother get away with it. “What about Lorelle? Is she chopped liver?”
Leigh had the decency to look embarrassed.
At that moment, Frank and Cherise appeared with Lorelle, her younger brother and sister, and her great-grandmother Minnie. In the crush of greetings and hugs, Carly saw her mother stiffen and stare into the distance. Carly felt the hair on her nape prickle as if she felt someone staring at her. Had her mother glimpsed Carly’s birth father?
Swiftly Carly turned and followed her mother’s line of sight. She strained to scan all the male faces in the direction her mother was looking. But the dazzling sunlight and the forest of heads defeated Carly. She turned to find her mother staring into her face. As if caught in a lie, Carly flushed warmly and then turned hastily toward Lorelle.
Later, at the best hotel in town, Chloe had reserved a room for Carly, a suite for Nate and Leigh, and a suite for Bette and herself at one end of the second floor. Now they all sat in Chloe’s suite, which was decorated in soothing shades of wintergreen. They sipped lemon iced tea and gloried in the air conditioning.
“I don’t know how you survived in unair-conditioned barracks,” Leigh said as she pressed her wet iced tea glass against her forehead. Her pale face was still flushed from the heat.
“We got used to it.” Carly was not going to give her mother the chance to criticize basic training, what Carly had chosen, had even succeeded in. But more pressing, the urge to question her mother about her birth father kept bobbing up inside her like a leaf upon a relentless tide.
“Well,” Bette said, “have you found out what you will be doing next, and where?” Stylish in a lavender and blue dress, her grandmother looked lovely as usual with her hair swept up to stay cool.
“My highest score was in mechanical ability,” Carly said. “I’m going to a transportation unit in the Midwest.”
“Transportation? Mechanical ability?” Leigh sat up. “The army wants you to be an auto mechanic?”
“It’s a lot more than being a mechanic. There are so many different and unique types of vehicles in the army. I’m looking forward to it,” Carly replied, lifting her chin. She’d known just how her mother would react. “I think it will be interesting.”
“If that’s all you wanted, you could have simply gone to auto mechanic’s school.” Leigh set her tumbler down on the glass-topped coffee table with a snap of glass on glass. “And not had to go through boot camp.”
Carly gripped her cool, moist glass. “I’m very proud of what I have accomplished. And if the army thinks I will make a good mechanic, I am willing to try it.”
“Said well by the distinguished honor graduate.” Nate smiled at her.
“We’re all proud of you,” Bette agreed quickly.
“I know what you’re all trying to do,” Carly said. “You’re trying to keep peace between me and my mother again. Please don’t. If she wants to start a fight, fine. I’m not a child anymore.”
“We know that, dear,” Chloe said soothingly.
“And I know my mother is still unhappy with me for enlisting. But I am also still unhappy with her.” Carly locked eyes with Leigh.
“Your mother is coming around,” Nate said softly.
Leigh’s eyes threatened fireworks but she merely pursed her lips.
Evidently Leigh was trying not to cause a scene. But Carly felt a reckless desire to go too far, to push her mother. “Is she coming around to the point where she can tell me who my father is?”
“I am your father,” Nate said without rancor.
“You know what I mean.” Instantly contrite, Carly stood and then knelt by her stepfather, her adoptive father, and put her arms around his shoulders and her head upon his strong, comforting chest. “And you know I have always loved you and I always will.”
&n
bsp; Nate kissed her forehead and stroked her hair.
Carly kissed his cheek as she rose. She turned to face her mother. The time had come. “I have received four letters from my birth father.”
The color drained from Leigh’s pale ivory face until she looked as white and transparent as the petal of an Easter lily. “So he was here?”
To Carly, it sounded as if even speaking about her birth father caused her mother physical pain. Guilt nipped her. “I thought . . . I wondered if you recognized him in the crowd today. Who is he?”
“Why ask me? Don’t you know now?” Leigh sat forward on her chair, her voice accusing, strident. “Didn’t you see him today?”
“He’s only given me his initials. Not a photo. Not his address.” Carly felt herself shrink with each negative. “Not his name.” The last twisted thorns around Carly’s heart once more. Her father hadn’t given her his name or more to the point, perhaps her mother hadn’t let him. This last hope prompted her to tell more. “But he said he would come to see me graduate today.”
“What has he told you?” Her mother’s voice was taut and fearful and angry.
“Just that he wants to meet me sometime—soon.” Said aloud, it sounded so very little. But wouldn’t it be enough?
Leigh jumped up and walked to the window, turning her back to her daughter.
Leigh’s characteristic shutting her out goaded Carly. “I know that you don’t like this.” Carly’s hands fisted at her sides. “But I want to meet him. And if he ever offers to let me do that, I will go to him.”
“Of course you will,” Chloe said, “because when all is said and done, he is your blood. And blood is the strong, almost unbreakable tie that binds a family together. Carly, I am glad that your father has written to you.”
Leigh swung around to face Chloe. “You’re glad?”
“Yes,” Chloe said, “Carly needs to know who her father is. His writing to her, but not revealing who he is as yet, shows wisdom and discretion.”
Leigh made a sound of derision.
“Daughter,” Bette said in reproof, “this isn’t about you and the past anymore. This is about Carly and her future.”
“None of you have ever met Carly’s father.” Leigh took a step forward. “You don’t know the kind of man he is.”
“What kind of man is he?” Carly asked, her heart hopping in her breast.
“He is not to be trusted.” Leigh crossed her arms, glaring.
“Because he didn’t marry you when you got pregnant with me?” Carly challenged Leigh.
“No,” Leigh nearly shouted, “because when I got pregnant with you, he couldn’t marry me! He was already married!”
Carly stared at her mother. She gasped. “You slept with a married man?”
Her face flaming, Leigh stalked from the room and slammed the door behind her.
In the shocked and horrified silence, Carly sank back onto her chair. Her knees would no longer hold her. “I can’t believe my mother would do something like that.”
“Your mother didn’t know he was married.” Nate reached over and took Carly’s hand. “He didn’t mention it to her until it was too late.”
Bette turned to Carly. “You must understand, all this happened right after your mother’s fiancé and your grandfather Ted had been killed—”
“And just months after she lost her grandfather Roarke, who adored her,” Chloe added.
“She was very vulnerable,” Bette continued. “I had a hard time understanding what Leigh had done. I know now that my lack of understanding made it harder for her to tell me the truth, just as it’s harder for her now to tell you the truth.”
“I disagree,” Chloe said. “You were distraught over losing your father and then Ted, and you were also heartbroken for your daughter. You were entitled to your own grief and weaknesses at the time.”
“And Bette, no one is harder on Leigh than Leigh is,” Nate added, looking forlorn.
Carly clutched Nate’s hand. She’d just learned something about her father and something about her mother. For so long she had wanted to know about her father, to know how she had been conceived. But she’d never imagined that she was a result of an adulterous love affair. Knowing this gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. What kind of man cheated on his wife? Why had he done it?
Was her father still married to another woman? Did she have a stepmother? Did this nameless woman know she existed? Did she have brothers and sisters? Why had her father lied to her mother? And in his letters, had he withheld his name and address from her so that he wouldn’t have to answer these questions? Carly felt herself sinking into quicksand. Why couldn’t life ever be easy?
A few minutes later, Nate left Carly with the two grandmothers and went to his and Leigh’s room. He closed the door quietly behind him. Leigh lay on the king-size bed curled in a fetal position. Nate hung his tie and sport jacket over a doorknob and kicked off his shoes. He went to the bed and lay down behind Leigh, pulling her back against him. He smoothed her hair away from her face and held her close. He could feel her trembling.
“I didn’t mean to tell her,” Leigh whispered. “And not like that.”
“I know.”
“How will I ever face her again? Will she ever forgive me?”
“That’s up to her. Have you ever forgiven yourself?”
“I can’t. I tried. When you came into my life, I tried to accept that God had forgiven me, but it just didn’t feel real. And it doesn’t change anything.”
“Why do you think you have to feel something to be forgiven? Why do you think you must be perfect? No one, no human is perfect.”
“I don’t want to be perfect. I just wish there was some way to blot it out.”
“Leigh, you can never blot out what happened. This conflict with Carly has got to stop. You’ve got to let go of the past. You’ve got to make peace with yourself—and your daughter. If you had told her all the truth seven years ago, as you told me you were going to, all this conflict might not have happened. How long are you willing to let this grind on?”
Leigh turned in his arms to face him—nose to nose, lips to lips. “Let’s not talk anymore. Make love to me.” And then she kissed him, obviously trying to distract him from the truth.
Bowing to this, Nate gathered her closer against him and began a long, thorough kiss. He felt as if he was wooing his wife all over again. Maybe they had moved too fast seven years ago and married too quickly. Maybe they should have settled more issues before they began their life together. But he knew he’d do the same thing again. He’d never felt for another what he felt for this woman. “I love you, Leigh,” he murmured against her soft lips. “I always will—no matter what.”
“I know you do. I just don’t know why.”
July 23, 1990
In her dress uniform, Carly got off the van that had picked her and the other privates up in the small-town bus station. The three of them, headed for the same post, would begin training in their MOS, military occupational specialty. As she gazed out at her new post, Carly felt her stomach doing jumping jacks. Within a short time, she and one of the other privates had been dropped off at the huge warehouse-type garage where she’d been told to report to her direct supervisor, a Sergeant Haskell.
Carly walked inside and looked around the large metal building filled with vehicles—some on hoists, some on jacks. The aromas of motor oil and gasoline filled the air.
She and the other private, Bowie Jenkin, a tall blond guy with a heavy Southern accent, paused inside and looked around for someone to report to. “Do ya think the sergeant has an office here?” Bowie asked.
Carly shrugged.
A few soldiers who were working on a camouflage-painted truck had noticed them. One of them shouted, “Hey, Sergeant, we got a couple of visitors!”
Within minutes, a short man with white-blond hair and a sunburned face marched out.
Carly and Bowie began walking toward him. They handed the man their papers and waited f
or him to peruse them.
Haskell glanced up at Carly. “What are you doing here?” he growled.
“I’m reporting for duty, just as my orders say,” Carly replied.
“What’s your name?”
“Carlyle Sinclair Gallagher.”
“Is this a joke?” he snapped.
Carly looked at him, dumbfounded. “I beg your pardon.”
“Your name really is Carlyle Sinclair Gallagher?” he asked with dripping disbelief.
“Yes, I’m Carly Gallagher.”
He swore.
She blinked. What could she have done wrong already? And what didn’t he like about her name, of all things?
CHAPTER SEVEN
I don’t want any women in my platoon. What were they thinking of? Women don’t know diddly-squat about engines.”
Carly stared at her new sergeant’s red face. The words he’d just said were unbelievable. Could he get away with saying sexist stuff like that? The temptation to snap back swept through her, but she repressed it. What would Grandma Chloe or Aunt Kitty say? She decided a polite but succinct reply would do best. Breaking the vibrating silence that followed his tirade, she said calmly, now the center of attention, “Well, the army thinks I can. And I’m willing to try.”
The man exuded waves of hostility that Carly felt break over her. But her reply had left him without anything to say. If he replied with anything negative, he would be speaking against the army, not her. He continued to glare at her but held his tongue.
Reprieve trickled through her, cool and welcome. Carly tried not to take a deep breath. She didn’t want him to sense any sign of relief or weakness from her. The staring contest continued. Carly kept her face impassive and respectful, but unyielding.
“Head over to your barracks!” he barked. “Women’s quarters are down two blocks, turn left, and then four more. You’ll report to class tomorrow morning after PT—that’s physical training.” Then he smirked and turned away.
