Anchor In The Storm Part 22

Arch stopped at their aisle and motioned for Lillian to take her seat, not meeting her eye.

She stood in front of him, aching for him, for herself. "I'm sorry, Arch. You're right. I have been hurt. I don't talk about it, and I've never been a good friend because I don't talk about things, and I'm so sorry-"

"Stop." The softness of his expression and voice almost undid her.

"I am sorry."

"I know, but please don't beat yourself up." He smiled. "And please take your seat before someone beats me up."

"Oh." She glanced back, sent the people an apologetic smile, and took her seat.

Arch handed her a c.o.ke bottle, then pulled out his knife, popped out the bottle opener, and removed both lids.

"Thank you." She took a cold, bubbly sip, then braced the bottle between her feet and settled her purse under her seat. Poor Arch should have invited someone else.

"Here. Have a peanut." He grinned and tossed a peanut into her lap.

She caught it before it rolled down her skirt, and she thanked him, but she had no appet.i.te.

Even if he hadn't admitted it, she'd hurt his feelings. She'd closed herself off so she wouldn't get hurt, and in the process she'd hurt someone who cared about her.

Lillian stroked the rough surface of the peanut sh.e.l.l. Lord, should I open up to him? Can I trust him?

If the peanut snapped open lengthwise, she'd speak. If it cracked or crumbled and she had to pry it open, she'd stay quiet. One more prayer, and she pressed her thumbs along the seam.

It popped open, nice and neat, and two little peanuts nestled in their cradles, identical twins.

She drew a deep breath. "Lucy and I never got along."

"Hmm?" He raised blond eyebrows. "Your sister. Yes, I noticed."

"We were so different. She was sickly and needy. I was active and independent. Then I had my accident, all my fault. My brothers didn't want me to play with them in the woods, but I chased after them anyway. I stepped in an animal trap. Lucy said I deserved it."

"Lillian . . ."

She couldn't stand the compa.s.sion in his eyes, so she gazed at the field, where grown men tossed baseb.a.l.l.s back and forth like boys. "She said now I'd know how it felt. Now I'd understand. But I didn't want to. She loved being weak, but I hated it."

"I don't blame you."

Lillian traced the edge of the peanut sh.e.l.l. "Our brother Eddie was born right after my accident. Mom was worn out caring for Eddie and Lucy and me, and I wanted to lessen her burden. So I worked extra hard to walk again and be independent."

"Just what I'd expect from plucky Lillian Avery."

"That's who I am-the plucky one, the strong one, the one who doesn't need anyone else. That's why I don't open up to people. It makes me feel weak. It-it terrifies me." Her voice broke.

A rumble emanated from Arch's throat, and he cracked open a peanut. "Don't shoot me for saying this, but it doesn't help when people hurt you after you do open up."

Lillian's vision blurred, and she blinked to clear it. "And I-I never told him much. My old boyfriend. I never told him what I just told you. I've never told anyone." A breeze ruffled past her, and she shivered in her nakedness.

Arch lifted one hand from his lap, as if to grasp her hand, but then he returned his hand to his lap. "I won't hurt you," he said in a husky voice.

She couldn't look at him. "I . . . I know."

"I'd only hurt myself in the process."

"Hmm?" She glanced at him, at his adorable half-smile.

"Where would Holmes be without his Watson?"

A giggle bubbled up, wet and strange. "Oh no. I'm Holmes. You're Watson."

"I heartily disagree, my dear." He mimed smoking a pipe, rolling a haughty stare down his nose. "You wouldn't look good with a pipe. But I look rather dashing."

"You look ridiculous." She popped the twin peanuts into her mouth.

"Enough of that. Game's about to start. Have another peanut." He flipped one to her.

She caught it and laughed. "Thank you. What am I? An elephant?"

He took a swig of pop, his eyes sparkling.

Suddenly, she didn't want to be cold anymore. She cleared her throat. "I do mean it. Thank you."

"And thank you for trusting me." He gave her a smile, small but sincere, then faced the field.

Lillian wanted to thread her arm under his and clasp his hand, to lean into his shoulder, to kiss his cheek right where the hint of stubble glowed like gold in the sun.

But she didn't.

She cracked open the peanut, nice and neat.

23.

Boston Navy Yard

Thursday, April 16, 1942

Under a cloudy late-afternoon sky, Arch strolled down the pier with Jim and Mary. "Another busy day for our Miss Stirling."

"It was." She leaned into Jim as they walked. "Two keel-laying ceremonies and two launching ceremonies."

Jim kissed her temple. "Four more destroyers for the US Fleet."

"Not for a while." Arch stopped and gazed up at the Ettinger. "But look at ours. She's never looked more gorgeous."

Mary laughed. "She looks like an explosion in a bedspring factory."

The men joined her laughter. American sailors had dubbed the gangly SC radar apparatus on the mast a "bedspring antenna." But with that antenna, the Ettinger could detect surfaced ships up to four miles away. That type of antenna had helped the Roper sink U-85.

"Well, gentlemen, I'm tuckered out," Mary said. "Time to go home, enjoy Yvette's beef bourguignon, and collapse."

Arch pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Mary. "Would you give this to Lillian, please?"

Mary's eyes danced. "I'd be glad to."

"It's just a Bible verse I thought she'd like." He crossed his arms. "Say, my parents' anniversary is coming in two weeks. I doubt we'll be in town, and if we are, I doubt we'll get a whole weekend's leave, but they're having a big party with music and dancing and plenty of food. I'd like to invite both of you and Lillian too."

"How lovely," Mary said.

"If we can't make it that weekend, another time this spring or summer."

"Lillian too, eh?" Jim's gaze hardened. "Testing her?"

Arch groaned and gazed at the two new Fletcher-cla.s.s destroyers in the harbor. "I know. Every time you've seen me bring girls home, I've been testing them. And they all failed."

"Don't-"

"You're missing two important points." Arch held up one finger. "First, Lillian is not my girlfriend. Second, gold diggers start flirting the instant they peg me as wealthy. Lillian? She's never even batted an eye at me. I have no need or desire to test her."

Jim dipped his chin. "Good."

Mary turned the envelope in her hands. "A weekend at the sh.o.r.e sounds . . . romantic."

That's what Arch hoped. The more his hope grew, the less he trembled and the better he slept.

After Jim kissed Mary good-bye, the men climbed the gangway.

"I wouldn't count on your parents' party." Jim pointed to the new antenna. "As soon as that's installed, Buckner will want to take her out for a spin."

"I don't blame him. It's time to even the score." If only the Ettinger would be one of the nine destroyers the Atlantic Fleet was required to a.s.sign to the Eastern Sea Frontier in April. They were needed here. The situation was so dire, the Navy had ordered a halt to oil tanker traffic along the East Coast.

If the Ettinger remained with the Atlantic Fleet, they were overdue for North Atlantic convoy duty. Escorting cargo ships to England would take well over a month. Long past the party.

When Arch and Jim reached the quarterdeck, they saluted Captain Buckner. "I report my return aboard, sir."

"Very well. Report to your stations."

Jim grinned at Arch. "Reporting to the sack for naptime duty."

"Sleep tight." Arch checked his watch. In half an hour, he'd supervise fueling and provisioning. He strolled to the lifeline and scanned Charlestown as if he could locate the drugstore.

Taking Lillian to the Red Sox game had been a brilliant idea. Not only had Boston defeated the Philadelphia Athletics 83, but conversation flowed for the length of the game. They compared the hitting of Ted Williams, Dom DiMaggio, and the promising rookie, Johnny Pesky. They exchanged stories from childhood and school. And they shared peanuts, lots of peanuts.

How he'd wanted to kiss her good-bye. Outside her apartment, she stood on the bottom step, her eyes level with his, her mouth level with his. She stammered her farewell, cheeks flushed, as if she wanted a kiss as much as he did. But something told him to respect the opening of her heart by waiting to enter.

Loud voices rose by the aft superstructure. A dozen men marched forward, Earl Kramer in the center, hauling Hobie McLachlan by the collar. What on earth?

"We've got a thief on board." Kramer shook Hobie and muscled him to the quarterdeck.

Arch spied Palonsky at the back of the crowd. The seaman gave him a slow nod, and Arch returned the signal. They'd talk later.

Captain Buckner wheeled to the mob. "What's going on?"

Kramer's square face glowed with fury. "Sir, I caught this thief red-handed."

"He's lying!" Hobie squirmed in the c.o.xswain's grip, his black hair disheveled. "I don't know what he's talking about."

Buckner glared at the taller man. "How do you address an officer?"

"Sir!" Hobie fought to stand up straight, but Kramer shoved his shoulders down. "I'm not a thief, sir."

"Things have gone missing all week, sir," Kramer said. "Anyone notice?"

"Yeah." Phil Carey shook his finger at Hobie. "The ring I bought for my girl-it's gone."

"The binoculars at the torpedo tubes," Fish said. "Can't find them anywhere."

The captain frowned. "Come to think of it, I can't find my silver cigarette case."

Arch etched the scene into his memory. Hobie and Kramer belonged to the ring. Palonsky was pretending to belong. Arch had seen Carey groggy on the job. Why did he have the funny feeling this incident was related?

Kramer gave Hobie's shoulders a hard shake. "Sir, search his things. I saw him sneaking around. He pulled something out of Mahoney's coat pocket and stuffed it in his own locker."

"I didn't!"

Buckner eyed the men. "Show me."

The crowd entered the aft superstructure and descended the ladder to the crew's quarters. Arch pa.s.sed rows and rows of bunks.

"Here." Kramer pointed to a locker under a bunk.

"Is this yours, McLachlan?" Buckner asked. "Open it."