“I don’t mind the company. The house has never been cleaner than it is now.”
She offered a smile. “Thanks. You’ve never got up the nerve to ask me, but just for the record—I like Tiffany a lot.”
“I think I love her,” Jeff admitted with a self-conscious smile.
“You’ve been pretty focused on her ever since I’ve been here. I’ve been wondering what you’re thinking, and I’m glad. I’d like you to get married before I do.” She laughed at Jeff’s expression. “Don’t worry, I won’t push.”
“Appreciate that,” Jeff said. “I got word the Seawolf is needed to backfill the USS Jimmy Carter on a visit to Guam,” he mentioned. “I’ll be away about 10 days. Unfortunately that may overlap with the commanders’ meeting, depending on when you’re ready to present your idea. I’m sorry about the timing.”
“It fits the way this month has been going. Daniel will be there, and Mark. I should be okay. When do you leave?”
“Probably three days. I’ll know more tomorrow.”
“Let me know.” She got to her feet. “I’m beat, so I’m going to head up. Good night, Jeff.”
“G’night, Gina.”
Her thoughts didn’t settle as she turned in for the night. She lay staring up at the ceiling, thinking about the turn life had taken, the guys now in her life.
Daniel Field. A wonderful man of faith, but one whose world was very different from hers—music, boating, a full schedule of people and friends. Actually the kind of guy she’d hoped to meet. No fatal flaws, just lots of good qualities in different measures. It would be so easy to fall in love with Daniel. When he smiled at her, she felt good about herself and life. She loved being considered his girlfriend.
She didn’t know if she was what he needed in a wife. She didn’t want to disappoint him. She wasn’t at ease with people like he was, and she’d never kept a full social schedule. If Daniel fell in love with her, he would be compromising to accommodate such things as her fear of the water. But should she allow him to make those compromises?
“Lord, what do you want? What’s best for Daniel? What’s best for me?” she whispered, wishing that God would answer her out loud so she could have an immediate and certain reply. God had been helping her figure out puzzles since she was a little girl, and He would get her through this personal one. But she missed the certainty that came with a scientific discovery. In contrast, relationships were fluid and never absolute, just degrees of being the right decision. She wished with Daniel everything had been positive with no hesitation points. But she was wise enough to see she wasn’t a perfect fit for him—she was merely a good one. So did that mean he wasn’t the perfect fit for her?
A good marriage was her dream, and unless she turned both Daniel and her off the road they were on, he was going to ask her to marry him. This relationship could very well go the distance. She closed her eyes, seeing the day coming when Daniel would ask the question, show her the ring. She felt a stirring of joy at the idea. But also some stirrings of uncertainty rather than peace. She so feared making a mistake.
If only Mark hadn’t said anything. She’d been clueless about his interest until he’d spoken up. She would have continued to see Daniel, only thinking about how to make it work with him. Now she was trying to weigh a second possibility that didn’t fit into any of her assumptions.
Mark Bishop. An older man, a genuine Christian, married before, a friend of her brother—not what she had been visualizing. But maybe what she needed? She’d promised herself to consider anyone who was interested. She did like him. That was the emotion and thought that kept coming back to the surface.
Mark showed up, and she felt safe. He was a leader in charge of a crew, a man others looked up to. He’d also be able to take charge of things for her if she let him, be that buffer she needed, longed for. He treated her with gentleness and care, and she appreciated that more than she could put into words.
She didn’t know Mark well enough yet to know where she’d have to compromise, or him with her. She didn’t see anything about Mark that worried her. He seemed to have a quieter personal life, more in sync with her own. She felt alive after a conversation with him. Even his prior marriage to Melinda was beginning to feel more like a positive rather than a negative. She did like him. Mark saw her, the real person, she thought, better than Daniel did. But he was older, maybe too likely to take total charge of her life, and the thought of being a commander’s wife—his career was only going upward in rank. There would be expectations for the role his wife should take. She had no idea how to fulfill that place, and she’d hate to be a liability to him.
The idea of choosing between the two men ran contrary to her sensibilities. The choice would have to be independent decisions. And it was only fair that Daniel was the one who should have the first decision. She’d go to Georgia, hope it helped her resolve what she wanted.
She groaned, folded a pillow over and wrapped her arms around it. How was a woman supposed to handle this kind of situation? She’d been trying so hard to get the next relationship right, and she was at risk of having a double flameout.
She knew Mark’s encroachment into Daniel’s territory was out of character for him. It told her how very serious Mark was about her, or he wouldn’t be conducting himself this way. He never would have spoken up while she was dating Daniel.
But what if she ended up deciding no with Daniel, didn’t see Mark for a 90-day patrol, and Mark changed his mind during that time? Mark only had a couple of weeks relatively free before the Nevada returned. If she wanted to spend time with him, get to know anything else about him, this was the window, and it was closing fast. But she couldn’t take it. She couldn’t do that to Daniel.
Her summer had turned so very complicated. Do the right thing. That decision was the only thing she could settle on for how to proceed. She asked God once more to make clear what that right thing was. At least for the immediate days ahead.
With word having gotten out about the last meeting, 74 men now packed into the room for the sonar presentation. No one wished to miss this one. Even as Bishop watched it for the fourth time, he had to admire the video Gina had put together. There hadn’t been any information sent out about what was coming, and he was seeing the discovery’s impact through the officers’ first reactions.
The large screen on the wall shifted to show the audio lab. Gina installed her cross-sonar upgrade on two existing sonar station terminals, one labeled the USS Ohio and the other the USS Connecticut, then turned on the sea trial raw audio recordings from around Glacier Bay. She started cross-sonar between the two terminals, pausing to make sure the video camera was in focus.
She typed in the command for a cross-sonar quiet search. The USS Nebraska appeared on the waterfall screens 60 miles away. Moments later, the group could see USS Kentucky on the screen more than 200 miles farther out.
Urgent, quiet conversations between sonarmen and captains began around the room.
Bishop pressed pause, rewound it, and replayed the demonstration. “To confirm the obvious, this new technique has some range.”
“It’s just software?”
“Yes. The audio was recorded in May of this year. Gina’s processing it differently and is getting substantially more range.”
He resumed the video, and the presentation shifted to a computer-driven animation Gina had created to model the idea. It showed ocean noise being heard in every direction, then a submarine appeared, and there was a quiet spot in the ocean as the submarine blocked the sound behind it.
There was a groan from the middle row. “The quieter the sub is, the easier it is for her to see it.”
“Yes. A submarine is big and it blocks sound—that’s the heart of her idea. A noisy environment makes a quiet sub stand out like neon.”
The presentation ended with a model of how this would also work from two surface ships. Bishop shut off the video. “A document on the theory behind this idea is being passed out. I’m opening the floor to que
stions on the video and paper. The tactical conversations for how to deal with this we’ll reserve for the afternoon session.”
Gina slipped away from the presentation halfway through the Q&A. Bishop, moderating the session, saw her go, shot a look at Daniel to see if he had noticed. Daniel was already moving. It was 40 minutes before he returned. He wrote a note, folded it, and passed it forward with Bishop’s name on it. Bishop opened the paper while listening to a question from the captain of the USS Maine.
Not a speech freeze. The remark about visibility risk.
Bishop nodded to Daniel. As soon as he practically could, he called the morning session of the meeting to a close and let the informal discussions ahead of the afternoon session begin.
Mark found Gina at the picnic tables, watching the small whitecaps forming on the water. He took a seat on the table beside her. “Hey, lady. Tell me what’s wrong?” He could make a pretty good guess.
“They started talking about how to deal with the fact that U.S. subs could be seen at a distance, and it . . . it just . . .” She didn’t try to finish the thought.
He dropped an arm around her shoulders, hugged her, pretty sure she’d accept the gesture as intended, knowing she needed it. “You have done extraordinarily good things with what you’ve developed in your work life—the seafloor maps, cross-sonar—all good outcomes. And now cross-sonar with a ping, finding a sub by silence, both have good and dangerous qualities. Don’t beat yourself up over it, Gina. That’s going to be true of most discoveries along this line.”
“I wanted submarines to be safer. I’ve now made them, in the long term, less safe when other nations realize this can be done. And I’ve ended up with security around me for the rest of my life.” Her voice caught and she shook her head. “It’s becoming a very bad work year.”
“These techniques may be known only by the U.S. for decades. And regardless, knowing is a good thing, not bad. We’ll figure this out. There are some tactically smart guys in that room. I’m one of them, if you don’t mind my saying so. We’ll use this capability to make the fleet safer. Trust me on that.”
She didn’t say anything. He gently turned her chin so he could see her face. “Okay?”
She gave a jerky nod as she blinked back tears.
The threatened tears were killing him. “You did wonderfully on the video, Gina—the paper on the theory, the software algorithms. It’s a clean hand-off, very professionally done. I’m proud of you. I know you don’t feel this right now, but you did a really good job. This discovery is a very big, very good thing.”
She looked away. “Do you need me at the afternoon session?”
“No. Daniel and I can handle it. I’m sorry Jeff’s out at sea right now. You could use him by your side today.”
Silence stretched between them for a moment.
“I’m going to Georgia with Daniel to meet his family this weekend.”
“I heard.”
“No comment?” She glanced over at him.
“It’s the right thing to do.”
She shook her head. “I can’t figure you out at times, Mark.”
He rested his hand over hers. “If I’m going to have a chance with you, the door will stay open, and there will be reasons you or Daniel—or both—choose that course. Go to Georgia. Give Daniel a solid chance. I’d rather win your heart knowing you’re sure about it than leave opportunity for questions that could haunt you sometime in the future. I’ll deal with what comes. Whatever it is.”
“When I get back, I’ll need to make some decisions on what work comes next.”
“Then put aside thinking about any of the future issues until after you get back.” He reluctantly glanced at his watch. “There’s time for Daniel to run you home before the afternoon session. Let him. Everything you need to do to hand this all off to the Undersea Warfare Group is done. It works. All the software is there, all the data from the trial. It’s not like they can’t turn it on, use it, and understand it. You don’t have to be here to explain more than you have.”
“Okay.” She slid off her perch on the table. “I’ll go start packing for Georgia. You’re a nice man, Mark. An awfully nice man.”
“Gina?”
She turned.
“I think you know there’s nothing casual about my interest. But if the right answer is no—to Daniel, and later even to me—let yourself trust your own judgment. You’ve not been the one to drop out of a relationship. You’ve hung on, afraid it might be the last guy who would ever be interested. Don’t do that this time. Trust your own instincts, your own judgment. If neither one of us is the right answer, be wise and brave enough to say that.”
She nodded slowly. “I think God gave you a wisdom gene.”
“It’s called being old,” Mark replied dryly.
She laughed and turned, headed down the path. He didn’t immediately follow. She had to be willing to leave the door open for him, and he needed that to be her decision, free and clear. It was the most risky move he’d ever taken, making sure any hold he had on her was as light as he could make it. But it was the right thing to do . . . for her sake and for his own.
15
She liked visiting Georgia with Daniel. Gina had worried her speech would freeze, worried Daniel’s family would ask questions about their relationship she wasn’t prepared to handle, worried the security that traveled with them would be too intrusive—all of that along with bracing for the possibility that Daniel would propose. It had been a lot of baggage to carry with her. But the final day in Georgia, Gina woke up without the pressure of any of it.
She was staying at his youngest sister’s home in a guest room that was comfortable and spacious, much nicer than a hotel. Daniel wasn’t going to propose today. He might very well have on his sister’s porch last night, but he wouldn’t ask hours before they boarded a flight back to Washington State. She was glad he hadn’t, even as she was more certain than ever that if he did, she should seriously consider saying yes.
She loved his family. From his mom, Janine, to his uncle Solomon, to cousins so numerous she couldn’t remember all their names. Daniel had brought her here with a clear purpose in mind. He had wanted to see how she interacted with his family, if his family liked her, and she was passing his unspoken test. She knew she was getting high marks. Even his mother had turned from gracious hostess to teasing mom with her. She’d seen Daniel relax as the days had passed.
Daniel would be waiting for her when she appeared for breakfast. She dressed with care and straightened up the guest room, repacked her luggage, then walked through the house to the kitchen. Daniel was turning pancakes. He grinned as she appeared. “Nice shirt.”
She spun in a circle, modeling the shirt with the photo of his high school band on it, from a boxed collection found in the attic. She’d discovered all kinds of interesting stuff when his sisters began talking about Daniel and his youth. His sisters were the good kinds of friends to make—interesting, quick to laugh, and genuine. Gina picked up an orange from the bowl and absently peeled it while she watched Daniel fix breakfast.
Daniel slid a plate over with the first of the pancakes on it. “Go ahead and eat while they’re hot. What would you like to do for our last morning?”
She sat down, segmented the orange, and offered him a slice. “How about another game of checkers with your dad? And I need a couple of recipes from your mom to take back with me.”
“Easy enough. I’d also like us to fit in a walk—we’ll ditch family for a few minutes. The flight is at 2:30, so we’ll leave my parents’ place about noon.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Gina agreed, cutting into the stack of pancakes.
“Your brother called this morning.”
“Oh? What’s going on?”
“I’m to tell you, when you’re sitting down, that Bishop got injured during a flood drill and broke two fingers in his left hand.”
She carefully put down her fork.
“A nub—new-to-the-boat sailor—misjudged a
pipe repair, and Bishop stopped him from taking a blow to the head that would have put the kid down with a severe concussion. They were installing a casing pipe. Think inch-thick steel, four feet long—something not easy to stop once it’s in motion.”
“Command of the Nevada is Mark’s dream job,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Will this injury cause problems with his ability to take Nevada gold to sea the first of September?”
Daniel shook his head. “Beyond the fact he’ll have to live with Tylenol in its strongest form, it shouldn’t. Medical will clear him before then.”
“What am I supposed to do when I see him? Say ‘ouch’ and never mention it again? What’s the correct way to handle a submariner getting hurt?”
“With Bishop,” Daniel laughed, “bake the guy some cupcakes and tell him ‘good job.’ He’s not going to mind a couple of broken fingers compared to having to tell some 20-year-old’s parents their son is in intensive care with a fractured skull.”
“Okay. How many bones have you broken, Daniel?”
“Hmm, five.” He rubbed his ribs as he turned the pancakes. “Can’t say the last was one I’d like to repeat, but the rest were kid injuries from learning how bikes can flip, skateboards can crash, and stairs are not for jumping down from one landing to the next.”
She smiled. “I’m relieved that’s all, given the stories I heard from your sisters.”
“I considered it my duty as the only son to prove girls fragile and guys tough. They used to squeal at the worms and spiders I introduced them to, and let’s not mention the snakes. Mom made me behave, but if I didn’t push back a bit, my sisters would have had me dressed up in preppy clothes with the sleeves of a sweater dangling over my shoulders.”
Gina laughed and pushed the pancake syrup toward him as he sat down with his own plate. “It’s the stories that make the best memories.”
“You’ve heard a few of them. It would take decades to tell all of them, the way my sisters embellish history.”
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