Forgive & Forget (Love in the Fleet) (13 page)

Gina jumped up and down in the Public Affairs spaces after the lieutenant returned to her office. Hallie was quieter, but smiling nonetheless. This was her big break. But she had a letter to finish first, and she needed to caution Gina not to say a word to anybody about the show, especially Trixie. At least until Philip received her letter.

And then it wouldn’t matter anymore.

When there was no response from Philip, Hallie agreed to anchor the show, starting with Monday night’s broadcast. She had placed her letter in ship’s mail on Wednesday morning, so he’d had plenty of time to respond.

Besides telling him the entire truth, she told him if she didn’t hear back by Saturday noon, she’d assume he didn’t care. It would hurt, but only what she deserved considering what she had done to him. And then she would be able to move forward with her life and her career.

And since he apparently didn’t care, she might as well show him what he was missing.

Saturday night became beauty parlor night in female berthing. The word was out. Everybody pooled their hair and make-up products and gave Hallie a makeover. Starting with a highlighting kit, they managed to pull her brown hair almost back to blond. They practiced applying make-up. Enough to show up on camera, but not too much to make her look gaudy. Gina took Hallie’s service dress blues down to the ship’s laundry to get them pressed and she buffed up her patent leathers, not that they were going to show, but she knew Hallie wanted to be squared away from head to toe.

This was not about looking pretty for the guys, including one hot Engineering Officer, however. This was about getting people to listen to important information. If looking good was a part of that, so be it. She hadn’t worn make-up in so long, she was surprised at how really nice she looked. Hallie checked her email and ship’s mail the rest of the weekend, but her mailboxes remained empty.

So there was nothing left to do except sit there looking pretty, practice the script, and wait.

Monday was a ball-breaker. Philip slammed the parts to the seawater regulator valve on the workbench. “No, no, and no!” he yelled at them.

“Sorry, guys.” He pulled off his hard hat and ran his fingers through his hair. Took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

Trixie jumped in. “Sir, how about we take a break for chow?”

Philip glanced down at his watch: 1740 hours. Where had the time gone? Oh, right. Up in smoke with the fucking valve. He reached back and massaged his aching neck. “Yeah, go ahead, men. You too, Williams. Bulldog, you got the watch. Can you keep working on it while we eat?”

“Aye, sir.”

“Williams, spell him after chow. Okay?”

“Sure thing, sir.”

“I’ll be back down to check on it after the news.” Philip was expected to be at officers’ mess in the wardroom by 1800, so he’d better hurry up. He slipped into his office and changed into a clean uniform.

Damn it. There was that stack of brown ship’s mail envelopes.

He’d planned to go through it today, but the regulator had distracted him. Maybe after dinner.

He climbed the ladders headed for the wardroom. Why was this valve such a problem? There were hundreds of them throughout the ship and he’d never had this much trouble with one. His gang could usually do an Indy Pit, tearing down and rebuilding regulators just like this one in no time flat. So focused on the valve, he smacked his head on the hatch opening and while cringing to hold his head, managed to smack his shin on the knee-knocker.

“Shit. Just plain shit.” Then realizing he’d said it out loud, chastised himself and mumbled the rest. “This day totally sucks.”

Actually every day had pretty much sucked for Philip Johnston lately. Ever since Hallie McCabe had walked out of his life—taking his heart with her. He was usually adept at compartmentalizing personal stuff once he arrived at work, but it was like she owned his soul. So there was a constant pall over him, suffocating him, locking in all his anger and frustration. Lately it didn’t take much to push his buttons and let out the steam. And it wasn’t fair of him to take it out on his men, and woman. He really needed to get a handle on this before he yelled at the wrong person.

And Hallie hadn’t just
taken
his heart with her. She’d ripped it from his chest, stomped on it, then repeatedly backed over it with her car for good measure. Sky wasn’t any help at all. They’d been having dinner together since he’d flown on board. It was nice for Philip to have someone to debrief about his day again, because he missed doing that with Hallie. But Sky just kept telling him, “Come on, I’ll buy you a beer when we get to Palma. Find us a couple of women. Get your mind off what’s-her-name. You need to get brewed, screwed, and tattooed. Okay, hold the tattoo. But you do need to get brewed and screwed.”

“Forget it.” Philip had replied. “I just got royally screwed.” And as to getting drunk? There wasn’t enough alcohol in all of Spain to dull this ache.

Get a fucking grip, he told himself. She’s just a woman.

Yeah, right.

Maybe some dinner and a half hour of news would clear his head so he could figure out what was wrong with the regulator. Maybe he could eat fast and sneak out before the crappy ship’s newscast came on and get back to his office and watch CNN. He never had time to catch up with the news and at least CNN gave him some world news instead of just who the duty section was for tomorrow.

Philip stumbled into the wardroom, alternately rubbing his head and his shin, which caused him to smack his shoulder in the doorway.

Fuck. Could this day get any worse? 

Chapter 14

“Good evening, this is MC2 Hallie McCabe with
Blanchard
News Tonight. Reports from Afghanistan indicate…”

The din in the wardroom quieted as the officers nudged each other and pointed to the screens. Nobody had heard the opening, since they rarely paid attention to this broadcast. But they were paying attention now.

Philip chose that moment to return to the wardroom table with his coffee. He looked questioningly at Sky, who had heard the introduction and now stared at him open-mouthed.

“What?”

“Didn’t you say Hallie’s last name was McCabe?”

Philip’s heart went to red alert. “What of it?”

“She isn’t, by any chance, in the Navy, is she?”

“
What
?” Philip screwed up his face like that was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard in his life.

Sky turned and looked at the screen. Philip’s eyes followed. His heart froze.

Hallie.

Her hair was a little darker. But it was Hallie. No question.

What was Hallie doing on the TV? In the wardroom? On his ship? In a uniform?

Hallie?

What the hell?

Philip tried to ignore the anguish shooting through his system so his engineering brain could do its thing. This was being broadcast from shore. She was doing something for one of her classes. And it was being shown here.

In the middle of the ocean. On the USS
Blanchard
.

Hallie.

In a Navy uniform.

He turned and looked at Sky. Speechless.

Sky bit back a smile. “How come you didn’t tell me she was a squid?” 

“What the hell is going on?” Philip whispered. He collapsed into his chair transfixed, his coffee forgotten.

Sky huffed out a laugh and punched him on the arm. “You sly dog.” But when he realized this truly was a big surprise to his buddy, he had the decency to back off and watch how things played out.

Sky spent the entire broadcast looking back and forth between Philip and the screen, torn between compassion and outright envy. This was no double bagger. No wonder she hadn’t wanted her picture taken. Her photograph on Bill’s desk would have spread around the ship faster than a bad case of clap after a liberty port.

Philip remained glued to the screen. His mouth hanging open. What had she said? “There are things you still don’t know about me?”

Holy shit.

He broke the trance momentarily to glance around his table.

Grins radiated from every male officer as they craned their necks to catch the news tonight. He was dumbfounded. Why was Hallie on the TV? It couldn’t be Hallie. Hallie was in Florida. Wasn’t she?

But then he knew for sure that she wasn’t.

The woman on the screen looked down at her notes and a single lock of hair fell from behind her ear. When she looked up, it lay there curling down her forehead over her right eyebrow, punching him in the gut. She didn’t miss a beat in her report by brushing it away.

The guys at his table smirked at one another, giving thumbs-ups and fist bumps. Anything more would grass their asses for sexual harassment.

Good thing the CO didn’t hear the guy to Philip’s right say, “Oh, baby, permission to lay alongside.” The reference to how one captain would ask another if he could tie up his ship next to his, brought more stifled laughter around the table.

The XO must have picked up on the newly heated atmosphere because he grabbed the microphone and reminded the men they were gentlemen and that there were ladies present. It grew quieter, as the officers now hung on the newscaster’s every word. Philip had to admit she was good, whoever she was. Professional. But it couldn’t be Hallie.

Hallie was a college student.

In Florida.

So why was she wearing a uniform that sure as shit had a rating badge with two red chevrons on the left sleeve? Why was she dressed like a Petty Officer Second-Class in the United States Navy? A petty officer with the golden tendril draped over her eyebrow?

Philip watched, frozen in time and place. His coffee grew cold. His mind raced. His heart raced. What the hell was going on?

“The duty section for August…” When she read the highlights for tomorrow’s Plan of the Day, the entire male faction of the wardroom was transfixed, never knowing the POD could be sheer poetry.

She closed the broadcast with, “This is MC2 Hallie McCabe signing off for
Blanchard
News Tonight, saying good night and stay safe.”

Each syllable stabbed him in the gut. There was no doubt about it now. This was no long-lost twin sister. Hallie smiled sincerely and professionally at the camera until the screen turned blue. The wardroom erupted with applause and cheers.

Surprisingly Sky behaved, mostly in deference to his buddy, but also because he was in shock. Holy shit, The One was a sailor—and truly a McBabe.

As Philip pushed away from the table and stormed out, heading for his stateroom, he heard the first mumbled reference to “Babe McCabe.”

It all made sense now. That last night when she kept saying, “I’m in…I’m in…” She wasn’t in debt. She wasn’t in trouble. She was in the fucking Navy—although that was trouble enough.

An enlisted sailor in the Navy.

On. His. Ship.

Sky was hot on his heels. “Are you telling me you honestly didn’t know she was a swabby? I’m guessing she didn’t wear her dog tags when you were…you know…doing it?”

“Shut up.”

Philip slammed open the door to his stateroom, glad that his three roommates were out. He opened his computer and banged out an email, and then hit send.

From: philip
.
johnston@navy
.
mil

To: hallie
.
mccabe@navy
.
mil

Subj: What the…
?

YOU’RE IN THE NAVY
???

WHAT THE H
.
IS GOING ON
???

He stared at his inbox waiting for his email to come back undeliverable—no such addressee. 

But it didn’t.

Philip felt like he was going to puke. He dropped his head into his hands, elbows on the desk. He shook his head from side to side.

Sky started babbling. “No wonder you couldn’t meet me for a beer. I’d give up drinking too if I had that waiting at home for me. I’d have sold my soul to al-Qaeda for just one night in the rack with her. Hell, I’d resign my commission just to hang the McBabe’s wet skivvies on the clothesline.”

Philip whirled in his desk chair, grabbed Sky by his shirtfront, and yelled, “Don’t you ever call her that again!”

Sky shook him off. “Okay, but she has to have a nickname. Come on. We all have nicknames.” He nodded his head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe that every swinging dick on board is lusting after her and you’re going to tell me that sweet, innocent, little Billy Gates is the one who bagged her?”

Philip collapsed back into his chair, tried to roll the tension from his shoulders. “I didn’t
bag
her.”

Sky lay down on Philip’s bottom rack. Clasped his fingers behind his head and made himself at home. “To think that my protégé, little Billy G. is the proud owner of that? I hope you told her who taught you everything you know. I’m in awe of you, man. You’ve added a whole new chapter to ‘still waters run deep.”’

“Shut up, Sky!” he yelled. Then mumbled, “She lied to me.”

“Aw, don’t get your skivvies in a twist. Did she ever say, ‘Oh, by the way, I’m not in the Navy and I’m not on your ship?”’

“No, but she never said she was in the Navy.” And then he had to think. He’d spend the entire night trying to remember everything she’d ever said to him. Had she lied to him, or just not told him everything? Didn’t matter. That was lying by omission. He swiveled in his chair, hit refresh on the computer, hoping a response that explained everything would appear. “A second-class petty officer. I was fraternizing and I didn’t even know it.”

“Oh, I believe, Billy Boy, that you’re not technically fraternizing if you don’t know you’re fraternizing. I’ve had a little experience with this myself.”

“You have?”

“Any port in a storm, buddy. I’ve been known to put my helicopter down in foreign territory a time or two. Nothing like a little forbidden fruit to whet the old appetite. Yours truly was fully aware he was fraternizing however, and he enjoyed every minute of it. But trust me, I never treated any of them like my brother.”

Philip turned to him in disbelief. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Sky sat up on the bunk with a shameless grin on his face. “There was this hospital corpsman that had a pair of lips on her that could cure anything that ails you. And that musician’s mate? Oh, man, could she ever blow Reveille on me. Morning, noon, or night. She never had a problem getting me up.”

“Shut. Up. This is serious.” Philip stood and paced as best he could in the small stateroom.

“So was that piccolo player. She caused me to have PTSD.” He put his hand to his heart and feigned distress. “The flashbacks are killing me. To this day I can’t hear ‘The Stars and Stripes Forever’ without popping to attention. Even when I’m sitting down.”

Philip turned, incredulous, hands out in supplication. “Sky, I’m dying here.”

“Oh, come on, Bill. Don’t ask. Don’t tell. It’s not a problem unless you’re both in the same chain of command and you’re expecting favors and shit. It goes on all the time. You think all these horny bastards are afraid of a little fraternization? Hell, this is war. If you gotta go, might as well go with a smile on your face.”

“But what about ethics?”

“I think I missed that class.”

Sky had gotten over the shock of Hallie being so beautiful, and realized he better tone things down because as far as he knew Hallie was still The One. The unwritten rules strictly stated that you didn’t say anything sexual about your best buddy’s One. You could say it about your own, but not your best friend’s. It would be like talking dirty about his mother.

Philip resumed checking his computer. Nerves danced in his stomach and his fucking neck was killing him. He reached up and rubbed it.

“I saw a woman in the ship’s store the other day that reminded me so much of Hallie, except her hair was different. Hallie has gorgeous, long blond hair. This girl was the same size as Hallie and had the same figure, as best I could tell in uniform. I don’t know. She just carried herself the same way, but her hair was darker. I bet it was her. Why’d she dye her hair?”

“Probably because she’s hiding from you.”

“Then why’d she go on the TV like that? Did she think I wouldn’t see her?” No reply on the computer. Maybe if he paced some more that would hurry things up.

“What if she had to? It’s her job.”

“Then wouldn’t that have been the time to tell me? Before she went on? Come on, Sky. We were
so
close. We talked about everything.”

“Well, apparently not
everything
.”

“Why did she think she couldn’t tell me?” Philip continued to walk from bulkhead to bulkhead, anything to break the tension. “Was it all a lie? Wait. Did I mention following the rules too many times? I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, if you don’t get your smart ass up to Public Affairs this very minute and talk to her, you’re not only a dumb ass, but a fucking moron. Sweep her off her feet. Beg for forgiveness, even if you’ve done nothing wrong. Profess your undying love. Do whatever it takes, because I got news for you, Billy Boy. There’s going to be a line forming at that door real soon, and if you don’t get at the head of it, somebody else will.”