Always Ready

by Susan Page Davis

  Caddie gulped. If she hadn’t guessed anyone else was listening, she’d have thanked him for the warning.

  She ordered the men to clean up the deck.

  They dashed about collecting scattered tools.

  “Lyle.”

  Caddie managed not to flinch and turned to greet the boatswain. “Boatswain Tilley?”

  “Was there any damage when that buoy hit the bulwark?”

  “I don’t believe so. There’s a small dent in the rail. Some paint chipped off. Barely visible.”

  “Show me.”

  She straightened her shoulders and marched beside him to the where the collision had occurred. “Right there.”

  Tilley scowled. “Have your men repaint this section of the rail. And when you dismiss your detail, you’ll stand an extra watch, Lyle.”

  Anger boiled up inside her, but she quickly shoved it down and lowered her gaze. “Aye, aye.”

  “And the crane operator and the man directing him will report to the galley.”

  She glanced up at him then away. It wouldn’t do any good to protest, though the men were not at fault. At least the buoy hadn’t hit anyone or anything fragile. “Aye, aye.”

  Tilley turned on his heel and left the deck.

  Caddie stood still for several seconds, calming herself and praying silently before she faced the tasks of dismissing the men and sending Daley and Ricker to KP duty. It wasn’t fair. She hated taking the men’s recreation time away from them. They’d done nothing to deserve it.

  She didn’t mind the extra duty for herself, though Tilley shouldn’t have given her such an assignment. He wasn’t her commanding officer. She wouldn’t protest, though. Even if she had the chance to have the order rescinded, she didn’t want to deepen Tilley’s dislike of her. Another four hours on duty wouldn’t hurt her, and accepting his disrespect might even help her to learn patience and submission. Still, she was tired and her arm had begun to ache.

  She called her team to attention and gave orders for the small repair job. “Daley. Ricker. When you are dismissed, you will report to the chef in the galley and do whatever he instructs you to do.” She didn’t meet the men’s eyes. If she smiled, grimaced, she would betray the emotion swirling through her. She mustn’t give Tilley ammunition. He would accuse her of being soft or disrespectful—or any one of a number of adjectives she’d never considered. “You are dismissed.”

  She felt very alone as she watched the men leave the deck.

  Nine

  “I can’t believe we both have this afternoon free.” Aven set their golf bags down near the first tee of Bear Valley, the nine-hole golf course near the base.

  Caddie’s blue eyes shone as she gathered her things. “Me either. Thanks so much for thinking of this.”

  “Are you sure your arm can take it?”

  “Pretty sure, but if it starts aching, I’ll let you know.”

  “Good.” Aven handed her a golf ball.

  When he’d learned Caddie’s ship would dock in time to allow them half a day together, he’d considered a kayaking venture. That probably would be bad for her arm, though. He wouldn’t want to do anything to set her recovery back. He’d held back from asking her at first, for fear she might carry some nebulous resentment for his father’s role in her own dad’s death. But she’d gotten past that, and he appreciated that proof of her maturity.

  “I’m really lousy at golf, in spite of my name,” she said with a laugh.

  He chuckled, recalling Robyn’s comments about Caddie’s name. “Me, too.” He hesitated and decided to come clean. “Okay, I’ve only played on a golf course once, and that was here. I did so horribly I never came back.”

  “Sounds like we’ll be evenly matched. And we’d better let anyone behind us play through.”

  Caddie set up her first ball and teed off.

  Aven shielded his eyes and followed the ball’s path. “Not bad. I guess.” He grinned at her. “Actually, I’m not sure if that’s good or not.”

  “Could have been worse, I guess.” She flexed her left arm and smiled at him. “My arm feels fine so far. If I’m sore tomorrow, it’ll be because I used my muscles more than usual, not because of the injury. That’s pretty well healed now.”

  “I’m glad.” He stooped to set his ball on the tee. “Now that the sun’s getting lower, the breeze off the bay feels chilly for August.”

  “Yes, I’m glad I wore my vest today.” Caddie stood back a little and waited for him to swing.

  Just knowing she was watching made him nervous, and he completely missed the ball on his first try. “Oops.” He took a deep breath and concentrated. The second swing was a little better, sending the ball flying up the fairway nearly as far as Caddie’s had gone. Aven exhaled in relief. Maybe he should have chosen something he knew more about.

  They blundered their way through the nine holes. Caddie kept him laughing, and in the end their scores were fairly even.

  After they returned their equipment to the clubhouse, Aven tried to think of a way to prolong the interlude together. “How about a soda in the snack bar?”

  Caddie glanced into the crowded shop. “There are a lot of people in there. What if we got drinks and took them outside?”

  Aven bought two bottled soft drinks, and they hurried outside. They found a bench in the sun, and she seemed content to sit there with him, around the corner of the clubhouse where they couldn’t be seen from the parking lot.

  Aven slid close to her and rested his arm on the back of the bench behind her. “Warm enough?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  The breeze ruffled her hair and shot golden highlights through it.

  “So, how did your cruise go? Everything all right?”

  “Pretty much,” she said. “How about you? You didn’t say much about your last deployment. Any arrests this time?”

  “No.” He sipped his soda and inched closer to her, bringing his arm down around her shoulders.

  She smiled without looking at him.

  He felt comfortable, not awkward, with her now and was thankful for the milestones they’d passed. “We gave quite a few citations, but we didn’t have to impound any boats or haul anyone in.”

  “Good. Hey, I didn’t tell you about my grandmother’s newspaper.”

  “No, I can’t say that you have. Your grandmother has a newspaper?”

  She chuckled. “No, she subscribes to one. She lives in Oregon, and she wrote and told me that they run a travel feature every Sunday. She suggested I write an article about Kodiak Island and send it to her paper.”

  “Are you going to?”

  “Thinking about it.”

  Aven nodded, picturing Caddie’s photos splashed across the page and her name in the byline. “Be sure to send a few of your bear pictures.”

  “Definitely. And I thought maybe I’d call a few of the charter boat owners and the people who have tourist lodges.”

  “Yeah, that’d make a great layout.” He looked out over the brilliant green before him. At last Caddie was right where he’d yearned to have her. For weeks he’d longed to be with her, to hold her in his arms, and to have the chance for another serious, in-person talk with her. This was more than he’d hoped for. He sent up a silent prayer of gratitude.

  She leaned away from him a little, and he felt a cool breeze cut between them.

  “I wasn’t entirely honest a minute ago.” She frowned and met his gaze. “It’s true nothing major happened on my deployment, but even so, I don’t feel good about it.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe I was away from the job too long. It seemed as though some of my shipmates felt I’d let them down.”

  “It’s not like you were slacking. You broke your arm.”

  “I know. But. . .we were just getting to work as a real team and I left for a month. And things that bothered me before seemed worse this time. Like Tilley. I’ve felt from the start as though he was watching me, looking for something to criticize. It wa
s worse than ever this time. Maybe he thinks it was my fault that I got hurt. And what about this—maybe it was.”

  “It couldn’t have been. You were out there doing everything you could to save those fishermen. You didn’t do anything stupid or negligent. The sea got you. That’s all.” Aven drew her gently back into the circle of his arm.

  Caddie let him, and she nestled in against his sweatshirt, resting her head just below his collarbone. “Thanks.”

  He gave her a little squeeze. “All right. Aside from Tilley and feeling inadequate, how did it go?”

  She sighed, and he wondered what thoughts plagued her. He sat still, waiting without speaking, stroking her shoulder gently.

  After a couple of minutes, she pulled in a deep breath. “When I joined the Coast Guard, I thought this would be my life. Twenty or thirty years anyway.”

  “And now?” he asked.

  “Now I’m not so sure. Since Dad died, I’ve had these doubts as to whether I really belong here. Did I join because I wanted to sail and have adventures? To serve my country? Or to make Dad happy? I’m doing well at the job, I think—that is, I was until I broke my arm—but now I wonder if I was wrong. Did I make a mistake going into the service?”

  “No.”

  “No? Just like that?” She pushed away from him and studied his face.

  Aven smiled. “Everybody goes through this. It’s natural. You start second-guessing yourself, wondering if you’ve overlooked something major. It usually happens right before a test or a transfer.”

  “Think so?”

  “Know so.”

  “I am studying for my next test.”

  “See? That’ll do it.”

  She settled back in, and he rested his cheek against the top of her head. She snuggled closer against his side, and Aven closed his eyes for a few seconds. For that moment, he wished they were both far away from Kodiak, free from their military obligations. But only for a moment.

  “You know how you mentioned the motto a few weeks back?” she asked.

  “Semper paratus.”

  “Yes. Always ready. Well, I don’t feel ready.”

  “For the physical strain?”

  “No. It’s more mental and emotional.” She raised her head and looked fiercely at him. “We had a minor incident. The seas were rough and a buoy we were hoisting hit the ship’s rail, but nobody was injured and none of the equipment was hurt. Tilley punished me and two others.”

  Aven frowned. “Some people do that. Was he hardon you?”

  “No, not really, but it made me angry. With Tilley. He’s a bully.”

  “He’s a boatswain. It’s part of his job to keep things running smoothly.”

  She shook her head. “This wouldn’t help things run better. Those men did nothing wrong, and he had to know it. That wave that rocked us was a fluke.”

  “What did he do to you?”

  She shrugged. “An extra shift. It wasn’t that bad, and I managed to control my reaction. But it made me furious inside, and then it made me sad and depressed.”

  “Did you pray about it?”

  “I tried. It didn’t seem to help mend my attitude.”

  They sat still for a long time, until Aven stirred. “I don’t have all the answers, but sometimes things happen in the service that we don’t think are right.”

  “Oh, I know. This wasn’t all that important. That’s part of what worries me. Why am I making it such a big deal? Because Tilley made a big deal out of a small incident?”

  “Maybe. But you need to keep your focus where it belongs. No matter what happens—no matter if your CO is a nutcase, or if you lose a man overboard, or if your paycheck gets lost on its way to your bank account—you have to remember that God’s in charge. As far as God is concerned, I figure I’m still in recruit training.”

  Caddie tilted her head to one side. “I suppose so. I know I have a long way to go.”

  “We all do. But when I think of our motto, I don’t just think of being ready to fulfill my duties or being ready to help people in trouble. I think about being ready for whatever God brings my way.”

  She let her shoulders slump and shook her head a little. “You make it sound easy.”

  “Sorry. It’s not. It’s easy to say but hard to do on a consistent basis.”

  “So, you don’t think I made a mistake when I enlisted?”

  “No. That’s what you felt God called you to do at the time.”

  Her blue eyes glistened, and he wondered if she was on the verge of tears. Her voice cracked when she spoke again. “Does God change His mind?”

  “No, but He might change yours.”

  She swung her half-empty bottle of cola through the air in a gesture of frustration. “But I was so sure!”

  Aven shifted on the bench to face her squarely. “With me it’s the opposite. I joined the Coast Guard mostly as a way to finance my education. After I got in, I found out I loved it. This is my education and career rolled into one. I just didn’t know it eight years ago.”

  Caddie leaned back against the bench, and Aven ran his fingers over the back of her vest, between her shoulder blades. She nodded slowly. “I’m not making any rash decisions. I’ll keep in mind what you said and try to take it as it comes.”

  “Good. One day at a time, and remember God knows all about it.”

  “Right. But I can’t help wondering sometimes if I really belong in this uniform. Maybe I don’t have what it takes.”

  “Don’t say that. You’ve saved lives. Every day you’re serving your country. Even if you don’t stay in for the long haul, you’ve contributed a great deal.” He turned her gently toward him. “And, Caddie, we wouldn’t have met if you hadn’t enlisted. This wasn’t a mistake. It may be a step on the path to something different, but don’t ever think it was a mistake.”

  ❧

  When the Wintergreen docked on September 6 after a three-week deployment, Caddie could feel autumn in the air. All hands were instructed to bring their cold weather gear on the next cruise.

  With ten days in port, she had a reasonable hope of seeing Aven before she sailed again, though his cutter was not at its mooring when she arrived home.

  The next day, she was due on deck to help with the refitting of the ship, after which she could enjoy a three-day furlough. Before she left her apartment for the day, she took an unexpected phone call from Oregon.

  “Miss Lyle?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t recognize the voice, and anyone connected to her life in the Coast Guard would address her as “Boatswain’s Mate Lyle” or “Petty Officer Lyle.”

  “This is Marshall Herting of the Oregonian.”

  Caddie caught her breath. “Oh, hello.”

  “I’ve been looking at your story on Kodiak. I like it very much.”

  It was a good thing he couldn’t see her, with the silly smile she wore. “Thank you very much.”

  “We’d like to feature it in our next weekend edition. We’ll be mailing you a check.”

  “That’s wonderful. Thank you.”

  “Do you have any more travel stories?”

  “Well, I. . .no, not really. I haven’t prepared any, that is. I’m sure I could. Do you want more stories on Alaska?”

  “We’d rather see some other destinations. Do you live in Alaska?”

  “No. Yes. Well, for now.” She swallowed hard. “See, I’m in the military.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m in the Coast Guard. I’m stationed at Kodiak for now.”

  “Ah. That explains your choice of subject.” After a pause, he said, “You did an excellent job on the story. You must have spent a lot of time preparing it.”

  “Quite a bit, but I enjoyed it. I was able to talk to several hunting and fishing lodge operators while I was off duty.”

  “Well, your photos are fantastic. Made me want to run out and buy a ticket to Kodiak.”

  Caddie laughed. “Come next summer. It’s starting to get chilly here now.”

&
nbsp; “I may do that. Contact me if you come up with any more ideas.”

  “Thank you, sir. I will.”

  She clicked off her phone, smiling. The money from the article wasn’t a huge amount, but the satisfaction she felt made up for that.

  Quickly she keyed in her grandmother’s number. “Hi, Gram? It’s Caddie. I’m sorry to call so early, but I’m due at work in a few minutes.”

  “Hello, dear,” came her grandmother’s warm voice. “What are you up to?”

  “I wanted to tell you that your paper is buying my story. They’ll run it next weekend.”

  Gram’s crowing could surely be heard throughout her senior citizens’ complex. “Sweetie, that’s terrific! I knew you could do it! You always used to write cute stories, and those pictures you sent home last spring were amazing. Now, what are you going to do next?”

  “Next?” Caddie blinked. Apparently Gram wasn’t satisfied with one article. “Well, Mr. Herting did ask if I had any more travel stories in mind. But I can’t travel now.”

  “Hogwash. You travel all the time.”

  “Well, yeah, but he didn’t want a whole series on Alaska.”

  “Can’t you do research on the computer for other places?” Gram asked.

  “Well, maybe, but it wouldn’t be the same as going to the destination.”

  “I know. You’ll just have to sell Alaska articles to other newspapers. Magazines, too.”

  “Oh, Gram, I don’t know. I don’t have enough free time to figure all that out.”

  “But, sweetie, you’re a natural. I’ve kept that letter you wrote me when you’d been to Homer. It made me cry. And the pictures you took of the mountains and the ship your daddy sailed on and that funny little lighthouse.”

  Caddie frowned. “You mean the Salty Dog?”

  “That’s it.”

  She stifled a laugh. The Salty Dog was a bar frequented by tourists on Homer Spit. Caddie had snapped the photo because of the odd architecture of the historic building-turned-tavern.

  “Oh, Gram, I don’t know.”

  “A lot of magazines have travel stories, not just travel magazines. My women’s magazines each have one every month.”

  “Hmm.” Caddie recalled a decorating magazine she’d seen in the doctor’s office with an article about a New England farmhouse. Maybe they would take an article about decorating with Native Alaskan art. She was sure Jo-Lynn could help her find some local artists and collectors. “I’ll think about that when I have time. Thanks, Gram! I love you.”