Beginning with You

by Lindsay McKenna

  Standing, Tag went over to the desk, offering his hand. “Thanks, Captain.”

  Leaving the office, Tag felt a hundred pounds slide off his shoulders. He knew his decision would put an extra burden on the already depleted pilot roster, but most of them would understand.

  “Hey, Annie…” Seth Davis called, motioning her over to the helo he was working on.

  Annie, who had just come on duty, ambled across the hangar to Seth. “Morning. What’s up?”

  He gestured for her to climb up on the ladder and join him. When she did he said, “This isn’t for everyone’s ears, that’s why I called you over.”

  “Yeah? What’s going on? This must be big, or you wouldn’t be acting so secretive.” Her eyes lit up with amusement.

  Taking a small pair of pliers, Seth bent down and gently put one of several lock nuts back into place on the main rotor head. “I just heard Chief Jarvis hit the roof over in his office. I happened to be grabbing a cup of coffee in there when Jody came over with a new set of orders for the Chief.”

  Annie’s eyes widened slightly. “Yeah? Well, what happened? Tell me!”

  “Get this. Mr. Welsh has been grounded.”

  “Oh, no….”

  “Not only that, but the chief has been reduced to shuffling maintenance and service reports.” Seth chuckled and looked over his shoulder toward her. “And you’re going to be taking over quality assurance. You’ll be assisting Mr. Welsh in all inspections.”

  “You’re jiving me, Seth.”

  “Would I lie to you?”

  Annie eyed him speculatively. “Are you sure? You know how Jody gossips.”

  “Hey, I was in the Chief’s office when he read the orders. He about tore a new hole in the overhead, let me tell you. You know how he gets when he’s pissed.”

  “Yeah, the original screamer, “she muttered, frowning. Annie allowed the implications to sink in for several minutes before speaking again. “Seth, they probably grounded Mr. Welsh because he’s so distraught over his wife’s illness.”

  “That’s what I think. I mean, a man can only stand so much. I don’t think I’d be able to work if Donna was dying in front of me, day by day. I don’t know how he’s held it together this long.”

  “I don’t know, either,” Annie admitted, her voice filled with emotion. “He’s such a fine guy, Seth. He’s always treated us fairly.”

  “Not to mention being the best pilot we’ve got.”

  “Well, one of the best. Mr. Logan’s no wimp at the controls, either.”

  Seth grinned, his teeth white against his sweaty ebony skin. “Yeah, I’ll give him that.”

  “God,” Annie whispered, realizing the full implications of the information he’d given her. “This is an awful big step up for me, if it’s true. I mean, the responsibility.”

  “You wanted to apply to Officer’s Candidate School after you got your degree. Getting to help Mr. Welsh isn’t going to hurt your chances, Annie.”

  “No, I guess not.” She started to climb down off the ladder.

  “Hey!” he called.

  She looked up at Seth, midway down the ladder. “Yeah?”

  “Watch your rear, gal.”

  “Why?”

  “You know who’s going to be gunning for you from now on—Jarvis.” He waggled his finger toward her. “Watch him—close. Word’s out he’s got an appointment with the skipper at eleven. I saw him taking a nip from that bottle he hides in the file drawer earlier.”

  Annie snorted and climbed down off the ladder. “He’ll probably hit the bottle in the pilot locker room, too, before he goes over.”

  “That new skipper’s stalking him. The chief’s number’s up.”

  “It’s about time, Seth.”

  “Amen, sister, amen.”

  Chappie wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he mounted the stairs. This was it. The CO had kept those damn files for over a week now. Sweat trickled down his armpit; he absently scratched it through the jacket he wore. What was the captain going to say? How could he get out of the situation? Why did Stuart have it in for him? Any other CO would protect a chief’s rating and importance when he had so little time left before retirement.

  Waiting in nervous anticipation in the outer office, Chappie kept rubbing the palms of his hands against each other. This was just another ploy to get him to sweat some more. He knew officers and the head games they liked to play on the lowly enlisted personnel.

  “He’ll see you now, Chief Jarvis,” June said.

  Getting up briskly, Chappie nodded in her direction. He mentally girded himself, pretending that he was going into battle and that Stuart was his ultimate foe.

  “Sit down, Chief,” Ward invited. His quick perusal told him that Jarvis was on edge. “Coffee?”

  Surprised by the change in Stuart’s tactics, Chappie’s mouth dropped open. He quickly snapped it shut. “No, sir. Thank you, anyway.”

  Ward smiled and got up, pouring himself a cup. He twisted a look over his shoulder. “Sure?”

  “Well, maybe half a cup, sir.”

  Ward poured a second mug and took it over to the chief. He went behind the desk and sat down. A minute of silence had the effect he wanted on Jarvis: the chief relaxed slightly. Sipping the coffee and appearing totally at ease, Ward pointed absently at the records from Maintenance Control. “I’ve had the opportunity to look at these things, Chief, and I’d like your explanation on the points we covered last week.” Ward wanted to give Jarvis every opportunity to admit that he’d played favorites and wanted to clean up his act. If he’d do that, then Ward knew the man was intrinsically honorable and had a good level of self-respect. Those were qualities he looked for in leaders, whether officers or enlisted.

  Chappie launched into his rehearsed speech, basically reiterating what he’d told the captain last week. He emphasized the sick leave, the unexpected emergency leave and other traceable sources. The expression on Stuart’s face didn’t alter when he dropped into a wheedling tone.

  “I don’t like pointing fingers, sir, but the last CO really put us under the gun.”

  “I realize that, Chief, and I’m taking that into consideration, up to a point.”

  Chappie leaned back, aware of the warning in Stuart’s tone on the last sentence. It was a veiled threat to come clean—or else. He fidgeted with the coffee, gulping some of it down. “Sir, I haven’t been well myself, of late.”

  “Oh? For how long, Chief?”

  Now Stuart’s voice was silken and Chappie hesitated, unsure whether the captain was going along with his ploy or not. Damn, he was the toughest CO he’d ever had to try and read. “Well…uh, a year ago, sir.”

  “What’s the problem, Chief?”

  “Bouts of dizziness sometimes. Oh, nothing to worry about—”

  “Have you seen a doctor about this?”

  He shook his head, gripping the mug hard between his weathered fingers. “No, sir. I just think the combination of the old CO and the long hours I’ve been putting in have caught up with me.”

  Ward gazed at him, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Chief, I think part of the problem might be tied in to these records and possibly related to your health situation. What do you think?” Come on, man, admit you have a drinking problem. Ward had already been tipped off by another flight mech that Jarvis kept a pint of vodka in the locker room over in the hangar.

  With a shake of his head, Chappie muttered, “Not at all, sir. I always try to do my duty. My job comes first.”

  With a sigh, Ward pulled out a sheet from Jarvis’s personnel file. “Chief, I don’t want to play games with you. You were put on report for an alcohol incident at your last duty station.”

  “That was two years ago, sir!” he protested loudly. “And that’s all it was! Just an incident.”

  Ward stared into Jarvis’s haunted eyes. “I won’t have my people’s lives put in jeopardy by anyone on drugs or alcohol, Chief. Now, I’ve given you the opportunity to talk to me openly about this h
ealth problem of yours.”

  “I’m sober, sir! I swear to God I am! I’d never drink on the job.”

  Grimly, Ward stood up. “I hope for your sake you’re not lying to me, Chief. Because, if you are, I’ll string your ass up so fast you’ll think hell’s a great place to live instead. Do you read me?”

  Chappie stood. “Yes, sir. Loud and clear, sir.”

  The silence thickened between them as Ward stared hard at the chief. “One last chance, Chief, before you leave this office. I’ve never punished any man or woman who’s come to me openly and honestly with a problem. I work hard to rehabilitate my people because I want them satisfied with themselves and their job performance for the Coast Guard. I can forgive human weakness. What I can’t forgive is a liar.”

  Jarvis belligerently met Stuart’s hard features. “I don’t have a problem. Sir.”

  “Very well,” Ward said grimly. “You’ve seen the new orders for yourself, Mr. Welsh and Miss Locke?”

  “I have, sir.”

  “Any questions about my decision?”

  “I can’t say I have, sir, but I’ve been in this man’s outfit long enough to follow orders.”

  Ward saw the hatred in the chief’s eyes. Disappointed, he waved him toward the door. “Dismissed.”

  Could he have handled it differently? Better? Ward knew Jarvis was an alcoholic. It was simply a matter of time and gathering up enough evidence to bring him before a captain’s mast. He wouldn’t see flight safety jeopardized for Jarvis’s unadmitted problem. No, he’d have to move quickly. And then he wondered how any action against the chief would impact Locke’s new assignment. A lot of the enlisted men would be jealous.

  Chappie unlocked the file drawer. He glanced out the window of the office door and then slugged down two gulps of vodka, finishing off the contents of the bottle. He knew he’d have to remove all evidence from his office and be extra careful about his hiding places from now on. The alcohol barely took the edge off his anger. If that goddamn captain thought he was going to drum him out of the service, he was mistaken. He moved to the window. It was almost noon, and the hangar was deserted. Everyone had gone to lunch. His eyes narrowed. He spotted Annie Locke in the cockpit of CG 1418. She was doing scheduled maintenance on the bird. A slow smile came to his face.

  So, Mr. Welsh and that bastard of a captain thought highly of Bucky Beaver’s skills. Well, he didn’t get to a chief’s rating by being a fool. There wasn’t a gold striper in the Coast Guard who could keep up with his maneuvering. The smile widened on Chappie’s square face, exposing his teeth. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? Not only could he get Locke into hot water, he could embarrass Welsh and show the captain that the people he thought so highly of were fuck-ups. And, of course, he’d be there to not only expose the problem that Locke had failed to remedy, but to point fingers. That would take the heat off him. Since the captain wanted whipping boys, let him go after two of his own favorites.

  Rook sat in her office, her thoughts wandering. She couldn’t focus on the public relations drafts that she was supposed to deliver to Captain Stuart by the end of the day. The office was quiet when the secretarial pool was at lunch. As usual, the day was gray and cloudy. She stared out the window, wishing for some sunshine. Getting up, Rook opened the door to her office, hoping for some fresh air. She glumly looked at the calendar: June 25. She’d managed to survive almost three months at the station. She was officially on the SAR duty roster, having completed her initial orientation training, but she didn’t feel happy. Paula Welsh’s health had declined steadily over the last three weeks, and she wasn’t expected to live much longer.

  She missed Tag’s daily round of jokes, his country-boy humor and easygoing manner. Rook tried to give him emotional support, but she realized no one could help him now. She knew from experience that the death of a loved one was something that had to be faced alone. Scribbling idly on a notepad, her thoughts moved to Jim’s father, who was slowly recovering but still in the hospital. That one trauma-filled day had driven her and Jim into each other’s arms. She didn’t regret that, but something deep within her signaled a warning to run from the developing relationship. Rook was unable to understand the wild panic that came and went. Right now, Jim was over his head in paperwork, running the huge business by himself. Before the accident, Howard Barton had been a driving force equal to his son in the company. Now, Jim was laboring under a double workload that would give a type A executive a heart attack in a week’s time. They didn’t get to see each other often, between his extra responsibilities and her duty.

  And then there was Gil. Something was eating the hell out of the man, but Rook couldn’t get him to talk about it. It was probably his wife, who had been writing ridiculous things about Coast Guard people. She waited uneasily to see if her interview would appear in the newspaper. It had been almost two months since Eve had shown up unexpectedly in her office. Had Eve used the pretense of an interview to size her up, or was she holding the threat of a blasting article over Rook’s head to keep her away from Gil? She had never discussed the interview with him, but it was obvious he knew about it. Gil was short-tempered and growly lately; no one liked pulling duty with him. Tonight, she was his copilot. Rook prayed there wouldn’t be any SAR calls.

  “Hey, Ms. Caldwell, what are you doing here all by yourself?” Annie asked, standing uncertainly at the door.

  Rook lifted her head, warming beneath Annie’s infectious smile. Did she ever get depressed, like the rest of them? It didn’t seem so. “Hi, Annie. I see you’ve got duty with us tonight.”

  Annie gave her a thumbs-up, nervously standing there. She was dressed in her olive-green flight suit. “Yes, ma’am, I got the magic combination. Couldn’t get two better pilots.”

  With a laugh, Rook sat back in the chair. “You’re good for me, Annie. I’m glad you dropped by, because I was feeling a little down about Paula Welsh.”

  Everyone at the station knew of Paula’s deteriorating health. With a solemn nod, Annie said, “Yeah, Mr. Welsh is going through a terrible time. I just wish there was some way to help.”

  “It’s probably more important that we be there for him afterward.”

  “To pick up the pieces,” Annie agreed softly. She gave Rook a shy smile, her hands stuck in the pockets of the flight uniform. “I just dropped by to sorta talk to you, Ms. Caldwell. I suppose this is a personnel matter, but I don’t feel comfortable talking to a man about it.” She hesitated, then, sensing Rook’s willingness to listen, continued. “Have you got a few minutes?”

  Rook gestured to the chair next to her desk. “Sure, come on in and sit down.” Pulling open the desk drawer, she asked, “I packed a lunch. Want to share it? I don’t have much of an appetite right now.”

  Annie shut the door and held up a hand as she sat down. “No, thanks, ma’am. I just got done grabbing a bite to eat over at the line shack.”

  “Okay.” Rook placed the sack aside, devoting all her attention to Annie. “What can I do for you?”

  Heat crept into Annie’s freckled face. “Well, it’s not what you can do for me. I just need another woman’s opinion on something.”

  “Yes?”

  Annie pointed to her front teeth. “I, uh, was wondering if I got my jaw and teeth fixed, if it might improve my looks just a little. No, I know I’m homely looking as all get out.” She gave a bashful laugh. “I come from straight Kentucky hill stock, and if you think I’m unsightly, you ought to see some of the folks that stayed home.”

  “Annie, I think just the opposite about you. You’re beautiful, from the heart outward.”

  Surprised, Annie risked a quick look in her direction. “Really?”

  “When you smile, your face becomes radiant, your eyes light up and we’re all the better for it. I don’t call that unsightly—I call it beautiful.”

  Laughing nervously, Annie stared down at her hands, clasped in her lap. There was still black grease stubbornly lodged beneath her short, almost nonexistent nails. No m
atter what she did, she could never get rid of all of it. “Yeah, but you’re a woman, Ms. Caldwell.”

  Frowning, Rook asked, “Have the guys been teasing you over at the hangar?”

  “Ahh, no more than usual, ma’am. It’s just that—well—you see, there’s this guy on Lieutenant Caldwell’s cutter by the name of Dave Harper, and I really like him.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “But he won’t even look at me. I see it in his eyes when I try to talk to him sometimes. He thinks I’m ugly.”

  Taking a deep breath, Rook’s heart squeezed with Annie’s pain. “Was it something he said?”

  “Oh, no, ma’am. You see, Dave takes night classes over at the same college I do, and I see him a couple times a week.” She licked her dry lips. “I watch how he looks at other girls who are really pretty. I’d like to get him to notice me, but I guess I’m pretty poor at figuring how to do it. My ma had eight of us young ones to raise, and she didn’t have the time to teach us girls how to go about looking attractive.”

  Rook looked at the piece of notepaper in front of her for a long minute before speaking. “I’m afraid I’m not the best one to ask on that account. I don’t wear any makeup, either. My hair’s so short, I don’t have to figure out whether I should curl it or blow-dry it.”

  “But you’re awful pretty, ma’am, with or without all that gunk some women put on their faces.”

  “Thanks, Annie. I’ve always believed beauty comes from inside a person, and no amount of war paint can make the difference. Women shouldn’t be judged on their looks or their bodies, anyway.”

  “Ain’t that the truth? I just wish these men would look at our God-given talents, instead of those dumb things.”

  Rook smiled absently. “It would make things easier on our kind of woman, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Since you’ve come here, I’ve sure felt better about myself. You’re an inspiration.”