Always Ready (11 page)

“Yes, but. . .” She waited. There was more coming, of course.

“And he was stationed in Seattle three years ago, when he died.”

“That’s right. It’s no secret.”

“No, it’s not. And he died in the line of duty.”

She lowered her head. “Yes.”

“Trying to rescue my father.”

She jerked her head up and stared at him. As the pieces fit together in her mind, breathing became a chore. “Oh Aven, I’m so sorry. It was bad enough that we both. . .” She stopped and sniffed, thinking about their simultaneous grief, back before they knew each other. “You said the plane crashed. I didn’t think about it being the same one. I figured you meant a commercial jet.”

“No. it was a small private plane the oil company owned.” Aven looked across the room at nothing. “Their pilot, Jim Haskell, was taking Dad to Seattle to catch a commercial flight to Houston. A storm warning was posted, but Jim figured they’d beat the weather. But when they got to Puget Sound, it came on suddenly and they went down in the storm. Jim managed to call for help before the plane sank, and the Coast Guard responded.”

Caddie nodded. “My dad was on call. He and three other men went out in a rescue boat. They found a few pieces of the wreckage and were looking for survivors.” She faltered and looked up at him, tears flooding her eyes and constricting her throat.

“It must have been awful weather,” Aven said. “Your father was standing on the deck, and he got hit by lightning. That’s what we were told.”

“Yes. A freak accident.”

“But if my dad wasn’t out there. . . I mean, if he and Jim had listened to the weather predictions. . .”

Caddie eased back into the couch cushions, but they offered little comfort. Her chest hurt as she forced herself to look beyond the surface, to plunge past the natural reaction. She would not blame Aven, nor his father, though her natural inclination was to think—to say—that he had caused the death of another man by his foolishness.

“It’s not your fault.” She shuddered and closed her eyes for a moment, seeking strength she didn’t feel. At last she was able to look at him again. “It’s probably not even their fault. Weather patterns change quickly.”

Aven sighed, and she could tell from the agitation in his dark eyes that he’d seen her struggle. “I thought about not saying anything, but I couldn’t let you hear something and put two and two together. Caddie, I wish it had happened differently.”

“Me, too.”
Or not at all.
How many times had she cried out to God for understanding? Why her father? Why lightning? After all his years in the Coast Guard, with all his experience on stormy seas, why was Gregory Lyle the one to die that way? And now, to learn that Aven’s father had—

She caught herself. She wouldn’t even think that Aven’s father was to blame. It would be too easy to let something like that fester and spread into a chronic bitterness. Her tears overflowed and a sob erupted from her chest.

Aven folded her in his arms and drew her close. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She heard the tears in his thick voice. They sat together for what seemed like a long time. She couldn’t reconcile the warmth of his embrace with the sharp pain inside her. He began rubbing slow circles on her back with his sturdy palm, and she wilted against his chest, gulping to control her weeping.

After a long time, she sat up and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose it like that.”

“It’s my fault,” he said. “There must have been a better way to tell you.”

“No. I’m glad you let me know now. You’re right about that. It would have been harder later. But. . .I’m not upset with you. You hear me?” She leaned back and looked up into his glistening eyes, willing herself to believe it, too.

He nodded. “Yeah. I still feel bad about not catching on sooner and having to dump it on you, so to speak.”

“Quit that.” She tried to scowl, but the tears were too recent, so she sniffed and patted his chest softly. “It’s going to be okay.”

“If you’re sure. . .” He studied her for a long moment. “I should probably leave now.”

She supposed he had been there long enough, but she hated to see him go. “I’ll see you. . .”
When?

He reached up and caught one of her straggling tears and let his fingers linger gently on her cheek. “Yeah. Soon, I hope. I’ll be praying for you.”

“Watch yourself.” She straightened and inhaled, determined to end this without crying again, even if they wouldn’t see each other again for who knew how long. Knowing she would miss him tangled inextricably with her apprehension about resuming her duties and her turmoil over her own feelings for her father. She determined not to drift into another emotional maelstrom.

She reached over to touch his sleeve. “If you meet up with the Waller brothers, be careful. Not that you wouldn’t be anyway, but. . .oh, you know what I mean.”

“I think I do.
Semper paratus.
”

She nodded.
Always ready,
the Coast Guard’s motto. She’d been far from ready for his revelation. Would she be ready when the time came for her to serve again on the
Wintergreen
? “You’ll do great,” she said. “I’ll pray for you, too.”

Aven slid his arm around her, drawing her closer, and bent to kiss her with more confidence than he’d shown at the door.

She leaned against him for one more warm moment, relishing his strength and solidity. Then she pulled away with a sigh. Prolonging the farewell would have her in tears again. “Come on,” she said.

When she stood, he rose and followed her to the door. He hesitated there.

She smiled up at him.

“No bad feelings? About our dads, that is?” he asked.

She managed a smile. “I can’t see any room for guilt in our generation.”

He sighed and stroked her hair. “Thanks.” He opened the door and went out into the too-bright evening.

Eight

Three weeks later, Aven’s ship docked in Seward to pick up an officer and leave supplies. He’d hoped the
Milroy
would return to Kodiak before Caddie’s ship embarked again, but it looked like he’d just miss her. She was due to deploy at high tide the next morning, several hours before he would arrive in port.

He’d found the past few weeks frustrating, though he’d kept too busy to be bored. The days blurred into a haze until he felt that July had skipped over him somehow and August had arrived without fanfare. Five days into the month, the long Arctic days had noticeably shortened. The wind had a nip of autumn. Summer was a fleeting patch of sea smoke, already dissipating.

Tomorrow Caddie would at last go back on active duty. Aven had seen her only twice since the evening when he’d kissed her, and both events left him longing for more time with her. He’d managed to make a church service with her the first time, and on the second occasion, he and Caddie met for a quick cup of coffee on the base during her break from office work. It was unsatisfactory, though he’d received a few erratic e-mails when he was able to check his account. Each time, he’d replied with assurances that her notes encouraged him. But real time—face time—with Caddie was hard to come by.

He called her cell phone from Seward, where his skipper had logged them in for the night. At least he could get phone service here, which he couldn’t for the most part on the sea.

“I’m so glad you called.” Her voice held an air of confession. He’d learned her moods well enough to read doubts, dread, and lack of confidence in her choppy breathing.

“Tomorrow’s the big day, huh?”

“Yes. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The cast is off, my arm feels fine, and I’m going back to active duty. Yay.”

Aven grimaced. “What’s up really?”

She hesitated. “Nerves, I think. I don’t know when this happened, but I’m scared to go back.”

“Scared you won’t do well?”

“Yes. And that I won’t be able to pull my weight. I’m still not back to full strength. And then there’s always Boatswain Tilley.”

“I know him. He can be tough on petty officers.”

“I can take tough. But if he goes on to humiliation, I’m not so sure. I guess the thought of going back has worried me more than I realized. Add to that the fact that I’ll see you even less when we’re both in and out of port, and I’m afraid I’ve let myself wallow in self-pity.”

“I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“Thanks.” Her voice held genuine warmth this time.

He smiled, glad he’d had the power to cheer her even a little bit. “Praying for you, too.”

“I really need it. Aven, I can’t imagine not having you there to give me a boost when I’m down.”

“It works both ways. You pick me up just by letting me care about you.” He glanced around to make sure no one stood close enough to hear him sweet-talking her. His shipmates would razz him for sure if they knew he was getting serious about a woman. But he meant every word.

“Thanks so much,” she said.

“I wish I could see you tonight, but I can’t. So just know that I’m thinking of you. I miss you, but I know sooner or later we’ll get some time together, if it’s in God’s plan for us.”

“I like that thought. I’m going to hold on to it.” She definitely sounded more upbeat now.

His heart seemed about to melt, and he wished more than ever that he could see her. Squeeze her hand. Give her a hug.

“I’ll miss you,” she said. “But I feel a lot better because you called.”

“I’m glad. And we will see each other again. Soon.”

❧

One short week later, Caddie stood between two seamen, watching as the ship’s crane lowered a huge buoy to rest on the deck
.
She gave it a quick visual inspection and found it in good enough repair to stay out another year. Her team of five men would go over it thoroughly to be sure. They scurried to secure it in place, before the rollicking waves could shift the buoy and endanger the crew. She tried not to think of her last sea voyage and the injured arm that still ached in damp weather.

When the buoy was safely chained down, Caddie signaled the crane operator and instructed two of her men to check the mooring chain. Others prepared to change the lamp bulbs and repaint the buoy with special, quick-drying paint. In less than an hour, they should have it back in the water.

“What’s that?” Seaman Morales asked.

She walked around to stand beside him. A yellow plastic streamer fluttered from the steel lifting eye at the top of the buoy. “You got me.”

“Maybe someone used the buoy as a marker in a regatta,” Morales suggested.

If so, it had been a very low-profile regatta. The Coast Guard was usually notified of boat races and other sporting events on the water. Frowning, Caddie gave the streamer a yank and broke it off. She handed it to Morales. “Trash.”

He nodded and carried it away.

She circled the buoy, observing the seamen’s labor. All worked with concentration that told her they were determined to make the paint job perfect.

As she watched them, her thoughts drifted to Aven. She’d received only one message from him since their last phone call—a brief e-mail. Even though he’d kept the tone general, his words had lifted her spirits.

Caddie, I’m in port. Going out again tomorrow.

Hope things are going well for you. Psalm 93. BM2 A. Holland.

She’d printed out the message on the bridge yesterday and tucked it in her pocket to savor later. In the tiny cabin she shared with Lindsey, she’d looked up the Psalm and read it slowly several times. Even though the Hebrew poem had been translated into English, it rang with splendor.

“The
L
ORD
reigns, he is robed in majesty; the
L
ORD
is robed in majesty and is armed with strength. . . .The seas have lifted up,
O
L
ORD
, the seas have lifted up their voice; the seas have lifted up their pounding waves. Mightier than the thunder of the great waters, mightier than the breakers of the sea—the
L
ORD
on high is mighty.”

The verses fit her life so exactly that she closed her eyes and whispered, “Thank You for showing me this, Lord.”

Now, as she stood on deck, the words came back to her. She felt like shouting them aloud for all the sailors to hear, but she kept quiet. Wouldn’t Boatswain Tilley love it if she lost her head and started spouting scripture while her crew halted their work to stare at her?

She focused her attention on the job at hand. Refitting this buoy was the crew’s last official task on this trip, and when it was over, they would head for Kodiak. The remote possibility that she would see Aven within the next few days considerably lightened her mood.

When the men had finished their work, she handed one of them her clipboard. “Perform the checklist and make sure this buoy is in top condition, Daley.”