Basic Training

by Julie Miller

  Catching her startled breath, Tess retrieved her comb and returned it to her toiletry bag beside the sink. “I’ll be there.”

  With her sister’s knock, common sense returned. As did the memory of her promise to Morty.

  “Hey, Ame—wait.” Anchoring the towel with one hand, Tess opened the door before Amy bounced back down the stairs. “Got a minute?” She nodded toward her bedroom across the hall. “I need to talk to you.”

  Amy crossed her arms and regarded her with knowing brown eyes. “Need some sisterly advice?”

  Tess opened the door and followed Amy into her room. “Not exactly.”

  “Then what, exactly, is going on?” Plopping on the end of the bed, Amy curled her legs beneath her and grinned. “You and Travis were gone a long time this afternoon. Make any headway on joining the two clans together?”

  Tess turned to her dresser, hiding the self-conscious blush that stained her cheeks by digging out a pair of panties and a bra. “Travis and I were just…” Plain white cotton, she noted, designed for practicality and support. Would Travis’s makeover include tossing out her underwear? Could the right bit of lace or color—or doing without—turn her into a seductress?

  “You were what?” Amy shamelessly fished for a juicy tidbit.

  Tess shoved the drawer shut and quickly pulled on the plain white turn-offs. “We were working out a training schedule.”

  “For two hours?”

  Before her feverish cheeks revealed any more of her obsessive thoughts about the captain next door, Tess turned the conversation back to Amy. “I got a phone call, actually, that concerns you.”

  Amy caught the towel Tess threw at her. “Oh,” she sighed in disappointment. “Oh!” She sat up straight and balled the wet towel against her chest. “It wasn’t Barry, was it? The judge said I didn’t have to speak to him anymore. God, it would be just like him to make a play for me now that I’ve made it clear I want nothing to do with him. I’ll bet that cheesy little bimbette he was chasing doesn’t look nearly so hot now that the thrill of cheating is—”

  “No,” Tess interrupted to reassure her sister and rescue the towel from her crushing grip. “I haven’t heard from Barry the Butthead since your final hearing.” Setting the towel safely out of harm’s way, Tess sat beside Amy. “Morty Camden called. He said you met at the McCormicks’ party on Thursday.”

  Amy exhaled an audible sigh of relief. “Oh, sure. Morty. Receding hairline. Glasses. He was in your class at school, wasn’t he? He seemed older than that the other night. In a mature way, I mean. Not an old fogey. He has a lot of responsibility this week at the festival, doesn’t he?”

  “The Chamber of Commerce was lucky to have him volunteer for the festival committee this year. With him in charge of finances, nothing’s gone over budget, and he’s used his connections in the business community to get nearly everyone in Ashton involved.” Was she laying it on too thick? Did Amy even realize how Tess was playing up Morty’s good qualities?

  “He’s kind of quiet, but I imagine he’s very responsible.” Amy clapped her hands together and gasped in delight. “Did Morty ask you out? Go. You should go.”

  If she got this excited for her, then hopefully…“He wants to ask you out.”

  Amy’s smile deflated. “On a date?”

  “That’s what they call ’em nowadays.” Her sarcasm went unnoticed. Amy was up, pacing the room.

  “I can’t go on a date. I’m not ready for that.”

  “Your divorce was finalized in May. You were separated for months before that.”

  “Barry was the last man I dated. And I married him. I don’t want to make that kind of mistake again.”

  “Relax. Morty isn’t asking you to get married. He just wants to take you to the festival. Maybe dinner.”

  “Why didn’t he ask me himself? What’s wrong with him?” Amy clutched her pale cheeks. “What’s wrong with me?”

  “Nothing.” Tess got up and wrapped firm hands around Amy’s shoulders, shaking some calm into her sister. “Morty’s a little shy, so I said I’d put in a good word for him. But he fully intends to call you later this evening. Looks like it’s a good thing I mentioned it to you first so you won’t wig out on him.”

  “I am not wigging out.” Tess’s unblinking stare told her another story. “Okay, maybe I am. Why would Morty want to go out with me?”

  Tess released her sister to finish dressing. “Maybe because you’re beautiful. He liked talking to you. He felt a connection that he’d like to explore a little bit further.”

  Amy was shaking her head. “But I’m an older woman.”

  “By three years,” Tess scoffed. “Honey, you’ve got to start seeing yourself in a new light. You are not Barry Friesen’s neglected, put-upon wife anymore. You are a gorgeous blond career woman who deserves to have a little fun while she’s home on vacation. It’s time you ended this moping martyr routine and got on with your life. Summer’s well underway. When are you going to start enjoying it?”

  Chewing on a fingernail, her sister considered the advice. “Dating other men would be a good way to stick it to Barry.”

  “Now you’re thinking.” Tess slipped on her tennis shoes and urged Amy to the door. “An evening with Morty would be a safe, easy place to start. He might not be the most exciting man in town, but he’s not a womanizer.”

  “That already puts him one up on Barry. And Morty’s not that bad looking. If you look at him in a young Patrick Stewart with glasses kind of way, he’s actually sort of cute. And you know what they say about bald men…” Amy halted abruptly. “Wait. You know what they say about bald men. Maybe you’d better come with us.”

  Tess groaned and shook her head. The man hadn’t even asked her out yet and Amy was freaking. “I can’t. I have to work the concession stand. Besides, three would definitely be a crowd in this case. Morty’s looking for a real date with you, not just someone to fill up the other side of the seat on the ferris wheel.”

  “You think I should say yes?”

  “It’s just one date.” And Tess had thought Amy was the Bartlett sister who had it all together when it came to men. “I’ve had a friendly lunch and dinner with Morty a few times, and he’s sweet. A gentleman from the word go. Once you coax him out of his shell and get him talking about something he’s knowledgeable on, he can be very interesting. And if you’re bored to tears or you just don’t click, you don’t have to see him again. You’re heading back to Richmond for school in a couple of weeks, anyway, so you can be up front about this not turning into any kind of relationship.”

  Amy started down the stairs to the kitchen. “I suppose. But it’s scary, Tess. My skills are rusty. I was married for a lot of years. That means I haven’t dated anyone since…” She paused on a step and turned, the frown line between her eyes indicating an unpleasant thought. No doubt something related to Barry.

  “What?”

  “Did I ever tell you about that summer in college when I was waitressing at The Bounty restaurant downtown?”

  “Other than the fact it was the most money you’d ever made at a summer job and you hated that sailor outfit with the mini-skirt you had to wear, no, not much.” Was Amy keeping secrets from her? “Why bring that up? That was before you met Barry, wasn’t it?”

  “The Bay Festival that year is probably what made Barry look so good.” Amy’s wry smile conveyed little humor. “Let’s just say that my last date here in Ashton was an unqualified disaster. I sure can pick ’em.”

  Tess laid a reassuring hand on Amy’s arm. “That was more than a decade ago. You’re a different woman now. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself.”

  “What if I haven’t outgrown my knack for giving my heart to losers?”

  “Morty might have retained a few of his nerdier qualities from high school, but I wouldn’t call him a loser. And no one’s asking you to fall in love. Just get out of the house and spend some time with the guy.” Tess offered an encouraging smile. “I promise it’ll be more
fun than a root canal, and not nearly as painful.”

  “Oh, now you’re really selling him to me.” Amy’s posture finally relaxed. “All right, I surrender. When Morty calls, I’ll give it a shot. But if this date turns out to be as awful as my last festival date, I guarantee there won’t be any second chances. I’ll go for safe over hot any day.”

  “Safe?” Now Tess was the one frowning. That was the second mysterious reference Amy had made. “Did something happen that summer?”

  Instead of answering, Amy chucked her under the chin. “It’s just good to know that some things around here never change. Thanks for the pep talk, kiddo.”

  Amy waltzed off into the kitchen, leaving Tess alone with her troubling thoughts. She didn’t know what bothered her more—the idea that Amy had gone through something heartbreaking without telling her, or the knowledge that even her own sister perceived her as one of those things around Ashton that never changed.

  Tess had just spent five minutes convincing Amy to see herself in a new light. Maybe Tess needed to take her own advice and think a little less like that plain brown mouse and a little more like an irresistible woman.

  6

  TRAVIS STARED AT the screen on his laptop, drumming his fingers against his thigh as tension tightened inside him.

  It was an e-mail from Clarksie in the Middle East.

  Yo, Action Man.

  Word travels a little slow over here, but I’m glad to hear the brass finally kicked you out of the hospital and made you go to work. ’Bout time you got off your duff. It’s no fun playing jokes on the probies all by myself. That’d be sweet if you got reassigned to S.O. 6 when we’re back stateside in a couple of weeks. When you make the cut again, the beer’s on me.

  You seen Becky lately? I know her job’s taking her all over Virginia. I can’t tell you how much it bites that I had to ship out before the honeymoon. Man, I miss her. Nobody here has hair that shade of blond. Not that I want you keeping her company. I know how you work the ladies, my friend. Still, it’d be nice to know somebody is keeping an eye on the Beckster for me.

  Drop me a line sometime. I won’t be able to check messages for a couple of days, but I’ll be back. Count on it.

  See you in two.

  Clarksie

  Travis clenched his jaw at the good natured teasing, meant to convey relief that he was in better shape than the last time Clarksie had seen him. He and Zachariah Clark, an overgrown farm boy from Nebraska, had known each other since basic. They’d secured plum assignments in Special Forces, had gone through weapons and ordinance school together, and had been Corps mates long enough to develop a bond that linked them across an ocean despite the miles of red tape that forced them to avoid any mention of a precise location or mission assignment.

  But the urge to fire back the expected response—something terse and clever and teasingly graphic—couldn’t get past the envy and guilt. Clarksie was overseas, doing his job. Taking the risks Travis should be taking. Living with the rats in his bunk and the sand in his boots that Travis should be living with. Putting his butt on the line because that’s what their country had asked him to do.

  Their country had asked Travis to go home and relax for four to six weeks. And if he wasn’t careful, they’d hand him his discharge papers and pat him on the back and tell him his services were no longer needed. That he’d been replaced by a real man who could get the job done.

  Yeah, that’s what Clarksie wanted to hear. Him bitchin’ and moanin’ because he wasn’t there with him.

  Summoning a remnant of the old Captain McCormick, Travis flexed his fingers over the keyboard, took a deep breath and started to type.

  Clarksie—

  I know you’re in the thick of it so I won’t keep you. I’m at home for a few days, resting up. My leg’s good, and the scars just make me prettier.

  I told you there wouldn’t be any rookie who could take my place. Keep them in line or I’ll have to come over there to whip them into shape for you.

  Yes, I saw Becky a couple of months back when she stopped by the base. We went to lunch and caught up. She’s a regular Law & Order babe in that pinstriped power suit. I tried to score some points, but she shot me down. I swear, all we talked about was you.” The big guy this, the big guy that.” Should I ask how you earned thatnickname? Seriously, man. She’s tough. The state’s attorney’s office is getting their money’s worth with her. You take out the bad guys there—she’s locking them up over here. I’ll give her a call when I can to see if she needs anything. But she’s all yours. She misses you.

  Keep your head down and watch your back since I’m not there to do it for you.

  See you in two.

  Action Man

  Travis read through his words carefully before hitting Send. He’d told a few lies about the leg and the flirting and told the man the truth he needed to hear most about his wife’s love. If Clarksie got a laugh or two from the e-mail, as well as the morale boost of connecting with a voice from home, Travis would be happy.

  If he could live up to the claims he’d made, Travis would be even happier. He intended to be in his service uniform and on hand to meet the plane when his former S.O. 6 unit landed stateside.

  “Be safe, buddy.” Travis patted the laptop, aching to be something more substantial than that voice from home. What if one of the new guys in the unit—the probies—missed a booby trap during a mine sweep? What if their rookie eyes overlooked a flash in the mountains that warned a veteran like him of a hostile’s location? Hell, what if none of them could appreciate the twisted sense of humor that he and Clarksie shared? His unit needed him—for protection, guidance, and a good laugh.

  Who was he kidding? Travis needed them.

  The doorbell rang, pulling him from the downward spiral of his thoughts. As he closed his laptop, he could hear his dad answering the door. Ethan was there with a crisp military greeting, too. Then there were female voices and introductions all round.

  Travis stood, smoothing out any wrinkles in his khaki slacks and making sure his navy-blue polo was neatly tucked inside his belt. If he could have worn a full-dress uniform to show General Craddock that he looked the part of an active duty Marine, he would have. But his beach-front best would have to do.

  Before joining the others in the foyer, he slipped his fingers through the blinds of the guest room window and parted them far enough to see the second floor of the Bartlett house. The curtain moved at Tess’s window and he knew she’d been watching for the general’s arrival. Perfect.

  A slow smile eased across his face. He drew his shoulders back, burying a flutter of anxiety beneath steely resolve.

  Show time.

  “General Craddock.” Travis had his hand out in welcome as he strode down the hall to join their guests. He ignored the minor twinges in his joints and exchanged a firm handshake with the superior officer who could make his reinstatement to S.O. 6 happen. “Welcome, sir. Or should I be saluting you?”

  The lines beside Craddock’s eyes crinkled. “I already warned Ethan about that. For the next forty-eight hours we are all off the clock. In fact, I’ll be taking orders from Hal, here, as soon as we get on that boat.”

  “You know I’d be outranking you, anyway, if I’d stayed in the Corps, Walter.” Travis’s father couldn’t resist getting a gibe in on his lifelong friend. “Better get used to it.”

  Craddock touched his brow in a mock salute and grinned. “Yes, sir.”

  Travis turned to the petite, dark-haired woman standing beside the general. “Mrs. Craddock.” He smiled in a way that never failed to charm women of all ages. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

  She returned the smile with a knowing wink and a maternal scold. “At ease, Captain. And it’s Millie. I’m off duty for a couple of days myself. No need to butter me up.”

  Travis raised his hands in surrender. “All right, all right. I’ll have Dad put you to work, too. I suppose after being married to the general so long, you know how to take an order
?”

  “She knows how to give one, you mean,” Craddock insisted, and every married or once-married Marine in the room laughed with a knowing nod.

  “My job is to work on my tan and enjoy the ride—and to have some sandwiches on hand in case these two old salts fail to catch anything.” After a yammering of friendly put-downs and challenges and protests in defense of all things sacred when it came to the art of fishing, Millie gestured toward the slightly plump, fiftyish, auburn-haired woman lingering in the doorway. “Before we get too settled in, I thought Eileen and I could run to the store and stock up on some snacks.”

  “Oh, ye of little faith,” Walter said in feigned offense. “I will provide. I promise.” He clapped his hand over the redhead’s shoulder and pulled her between himself and Millie. “We need to finish introductions. Eileen Ward—my secretary—this is Hal’s younger son, Travis—another fine Marine.”

  “Is there any other kind?” Travis’s remark got a response from everyone except Eileen. Maybe her bun was too tight. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Ward.”

  “Thank you for having me.” She shook his proffered hand with absent-minded distraction, then snapped her full attention to her boss. “General, I’d be happy to make the grocery run myself, if someone would give me directions.”

  “Forget the groceries, already,” Hal insisted. “I’m prepared for every contingency on this cruise. It’s not like I haven’t done it before.”

  “Yes, I’m sure. But…You see…” After a couple of nervous starts, as if the words she’d been searching for had failed her, she turned her attention back to General Craddock. “I thought we were going to spend some time in town. I didn’t realize we’d be out on the water so long.”

  “Just overnight,” Hal informed her.

  She glanced over her shoulder. Judging by her expression, that seemed to be one night too long for the woman. “You don’t want to leave the office unmanned tomorrow. The reports—”