“Wife and son?” Bowie repeated. “Are you sure?”
“I was there. Skully almost drove himself insane with grief and guilt.”
“I guess I’d better check this out before I go any further. I’ll call you back later. Can we keep it between us for now?”
“Of course,” his parents agreed.
The mystery was far from solved, but as Bowie hung up the phone, he found a bit of hope in the information his father had given him. If a man believed his wife and child were dead, he might stop looking.
He entered the brig a few minutes later.
“What are you doing?” McCain asked, stretched out on his rack. They’d take up residence in the Commanding Officers Quarters as soon as Captain Harris boarded a plane tomorrow.
“Looking for an extra toothbrush,” Bowie said, digging around in his seabag. “Have one?”
“Not an extra one.”
“Me, neither.” He grabbed the master key ring off a hook on the wall above his desk. “I guess the most logical place would be the medical-dental building.” It was close. And brick. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about it falling down around his ears.
They set out for the clinic with a flashlight, coming upon rats the size of cats more than once.
“Mighty Mouse lives,” McCain said, throwing gravel at a rat that wouldn’t scurry out of their way fast enough. “How are we supposed to eradicate supercritters?”
“Traps, I guess. I’ll leave the details to you.”
“Thanks a lot.”
They arrived at the clinic and Bowie opened the door and reached inside to flip on the switch. The building had power, just not a lot of light bulbs, but enough worked, so he turned off his flashlight.
Half of the building had served as sick call, the other as dental. It was easy to distinguish the two.
“You try that room. I’ll take this one,” Bowie instructed. A dust-cloth-covered dental chair sat in the middle of the room Bowie had chosen. He hit the jackpot with the first drawer he opened. He grabbed a handful of wrapped toothbrushes and looked for anything else that might be useful. He loaded his pockets with floss and sample-size toothpaste, wondering what the expiration date was.
“Find anything?” McCain entered the room with a cardboard box tucked under his arm.
“Yeah. What’ve you got there?”
“A gross of condoms. And there’s more where this came from.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, McCain, you’re not going to need them. There are only six women on this island. Four of them are enlisted, which means they’re off limits to you and me. As for the two civilians, one is way too young for you.”
“And the other?”
“I saw her first.”
McCain shoved the box to Bowie’s chest.
“Grab another one,” Bowie ordered.
“You busy Bee.”
“FYI, I was thinking of the enlisted men. We can set one out in the barracks and one in the office.” But he pocketed a couple just in case.
Showing up at the women’s door with a gross of condoms was probably not the most brilliant idea he’d ever had. But at least he’d left his box in the hallway of the BEQ.
Except for E-6 and above, the guys were doubled up while the girls each had their own room. The bathroom schedule had been a little tricky, but he hadn’t wanted to open up more than one barrack. So the girls had the head on the second floor and the guys on the first. There was also a laundry room on each floor, but that operated on a first-come, first-served basis.
Flynn answered his knock in an oversize jersey, eating a banana. Tam was still dressed and sat on the extra rack in the corner. All the other girls had gathered in that one room, including Katie. Bowie remembered a pajama party fantasy he’d once had.
“Hi, L.T., J.G., we were just talking about you. Do you want to come in?” Flynn offered a little breathlessly. Bowie stepped just inside the door and McCain moved into the doorway. Their nicknames had caught on with the rest of the Alpha Dogs so he was used to even the girls calling him L.T. now.
“Ladies,” he said. “I come bearing toothbrushes. Anyone else need an extra one besides the professor?” He made sure Tam got everything she needed, then put the rest up for grabs. “Talking about me, huh?” he said in an aside to Tam.
“Trust me, the subject wasn’t all that interesting. But it appears you have some groupies,” she whispered back.
“What’s in the box, J.G.?” Flynn asked.
“Condoms. Want some?”
“Sure.” The girls rushed him as if he were throwing beads at a Mardi Gras parade. “Professor?” McCain asked the only person holding back. “Condom?”
“All right, we’re leaving,” Bowie announced, trying to push McCain and his big mouth out the door. “Good night, ladies.”
“How many did you take, Lieutenant?” Tam’s question stopped him.
“Some would say too many, others not enough,” he answered.
“And you’d say?”
Bowie couldn’t believe it. Here they were discussing condoms, when just yesterday morning protection and precaution were two words she hadn’t associated with him.
She kept looking at him as if she were waiting for an answer.
“Two,” he admitted.
She held his gaze while she picked out one, then two.
His gut clenched at her unusual method of seduction. He was ready to fall down on his knees in gratitude anytime now. “I meant ten,” he said.
And she laughingly shoved him out the door.
CHAPTER EIGHT
0730 Saturday
ABANDONED HOUSING UNITS;
NAVAL AIR FACILITY
Sand Island, Midway Islands
TAM GOT CAUGHT TRYING to sneak back into her house through the French windows. “I just need to get a few things.”
“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said, handing her a hard hat and following her inside. “I thought we’d go house hunting today. Unless of course you like rooming with Flynn.”
“Oh, please.” She stuffed clean clothes into a duffel bag. “I’d rather have you for a roommate.”
“That could be arranged.”
“That was sarcasm,” she said, staring him down. “They’re teenagers. They kept me up all night.”
“And I wouldn’t keep you up all night?” He gave her that sexy dimpled smile as he leaned against the doorjamb.
“Of course you would.” She slammed her bag into his chest and let him carry it. “But at least you might enjoy it.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Are you always like this when you haven’t had a good night’s sleep?”
“Always is such a relative term,” she said, following him outside. “Where do we start?”
“Anywhere you want. I brought a golf cart,” he said, stuffing her duffel bag in the back.
Anywhere you want turned out to be a relative term, as well. What he should have said was anywhere I say. He’d scouted out a number of houses in advance. Unfortunately they couldn’t agree on any one of them. What he considered structurally sound she considered ugly.
Any house that looked like it might blow over with a huff and a puff from a big bad wolf had been spray-painted on the front door with a fluorescent X. It was pretty clear that the neighborhood of housing units wouldn’t exist much longer.
It was afternoon and she was tired and hungry. With her temper growing shorter all the time, she was ready to call it quits.
“Are you really trying to get me to share that little cell with you? Because if you are, you’d better start padding it. You’re driving me crazy.”
“Don’t you trust me?” he demanded. “There’s nothing wrong with this house. Look,” he said, directing her attention to the water. “It has a nice view of the ocean. A leeward wind. A roof that doesn’t leak and isn’t going to fall down on you. What more could you ask for?”
“My house had an open porch, this one is enclosed. How would I even be able to enjoy
the view or the breeze? There’re tiles missing in the bathroom and kitchen. And the place is filthy. It would take me a month to even clean it.”
“Forget about all that for a minute, it’s cosmetic. This house has a solid foundation. There’s even bougainvillea. You didn’t want the last house because it didn’t have any. Well, there you go, bougainvillea.”
“I don’t know—”
“I can open up the porch,” he said, taking a screw driver from his utility belt and beginning to remove a screen.
Just a few short weeks ago he’d worn weapons on his utility belt. Now he wore tools. She had to admit, she could learn to love a man who knew how to use tools. An open porch with a view of the ocean and a leeward breeze would be heaven.
“Sold!”
THEIR NEXT STOP TURNED out to be her lab, where she fixed them both a cup of instant soup. She was pretty sure one package wouldn’t hold him so she dumped two into an oversize mug for him and one into a regular-size mug for her. She put the kettle on the hot plate and waited for the water to boil.
In the meantime they had peanut butter on Ritz crackers to tide them over. “I told you I couldn’t cook,” she said, stuffing a cracker into her mouth.
He took the butter knife from her and spread peanut butter onto a cracker. “You managed last night. Besides, I’ve had worse.”
“Like what? What’s the worst thing you’ve ever eaten?”
“I’m not sure what you’d call it, but it moved. Of course C-Rats, C-Rations for the uninitiated, run a close second. And Meals Ready to Eat.”
“Yeah, that sounds pretty bad,” she agreed. “I’d have to say French fries top my list. Because they’re so good and so bad for you. I can’t stop at one. I have to supersize and then eat every last fry. It’s a good thing there isn’t a McDonald’s on the island or I’d be fat as a house.”
“I doubt that.” He eyed her appreciatively.
“It’s true. I’m a pig. I stuff my face every chance I get. Of course, going to bed hungry for so many years—” she paused, as if realizing what she’d said “—makes one appreciate food.” The kettle whistled and she went to check on it. As she poured the water she heard Crackers squawking up a storm in the back room. “Your bird misses you.” She handed him his mug.
“Do you mind?” he asked, setting it aside and heading that way.
“Not at all. You should visit. Parrots develop close bonds with their humans, substituting them for mates. And they get rather destructive when denied contact.”
He removed Crackers from the cage and set the bird on his shoulder. The bird immediately calmed down.
“Parrots mate for life,” she continued. “Unfortunately, the average parrot has seven owners in its lifetime. Quite an adjustment for the bird. And of course she’ll probably outlive you.”
“She?”
“Yes, your he is a she. The Thai government must really like you. This bird is worth about ten thousand dollars on the open market.”
He fed Crackers some crackers.
“How come you know so much about birds?”
“You mean other than it being my job? I find them fascinating. Many species mate for life. And they work in partnership with each other. I think people could learn a lot from birds.” She stroked the parrot’s feathers. “I do think it’s a shame, however, that people feel the need to own something that was meant to fly free. Her wings have been clipped.”
“Now you’re making me feel bad.”
“Just be a committed pet owner. I have my own reasons for making myself feel bad when it comes to parrots.”
“What? As a kid you went around shooting birds with a slingshot?”
“Something like that,” she admitted, sipping from her mug. He looked as if he didn’t believe her. And she wished it weren’t true. She wanted very much to unburden herself. But not to just anyone. She wanted to tell those deep dark secrets to him.
“In Vietnam there were children who grew up on the streets, orphaned, abandoned. They were called bui doi, dust of life, because of their round eyes. Women were often pressured by families or future husbands to give up children fathered by American GIs, or go through life alone.
“These children survived, just barely. And one of the ways they did was to catch parrots and monkeys, even stray dogs, for the street vendors who would pay them what amounted to pennies. Vendors made a modest amount. But importers and exporters got rich. When I see a bird in captivity, it makes me think of those kids.”
“If that was the only way to survive…”
“No one should profit at the expense of another. I caught a parrot once, sold it to a vendor. For a few minutes I felt rich. But I stayed around too long and saw it locked up in a cage. I felt sorry for it. Sorry that I’d done such a terrible thing when I wanted nothing more than to be like that bird and be free. Because it really depends on what you’re selling.”
“Tam?” he questioned softly. “Did you grow up on the street? Tell me more about your life. Tell me about your mother.”
“I was lucky. I had a mother who loved me more than life itself. She made sure I had a roof over my head. And saw to it that I was fed, even if it meant skipping a meal herself. But if you’re asking if I resent the fact that my American father abandoned my mother, the answer is yes.”
“Is it possible your parents were married? Separated by some outside force?”
“It’s possible he was married.” She hung her head. “I feel so disloyal when I talk like that. She loved him so. She claims they were married. Along with the picture, he’d given her money and a piece of paper, making her his wife. It also had on it his name, rank and serial number. She couldn’t read English, but I guess it’s possible he assumed she’d recognize his name, at least. I don’t know.” Tam shook her head. “Anything’s possible, right?” She searched his eyes for the answers. His eyes never lied.
“He probably swore out an affidavit, stating that they were married or that he intended to marry her.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s likely. You know, you’ve never told me your mother’s name.”
“Lan. It means flower.”
0930 Sunday—Mother’s Day
TAM’S NEW HOUSE; NAVAL AIR FACILITY
Sand Island, Midway Islands
“THE SIX-BY IS FULL,” McCain said, putting down his end of the faux-leather couch with faux-bamboo frame.
Bowie set down his end as well. A six-by was a canvas-covered truck with two bench seats that ran lengthwise and could carry six troops on either side. They used the truck to haul themselves to job sites. But it wasn’t nearly big enough for this job.
“Come in, Master Chief. Over.” Bowie spoke into a two-way radio. “Better send me a deuce ’n’ a half.”
“Copy,” Rusty said. “One two-and-a-half ton ready to roll.”
“Think that’s going to do it?” McCain joked.
“I don’t know, she’s got a lot of junk.” Just about everything he owned could be packed on his back. Except for the Harley he had to keep in storage six months out of every year. This time it would be a year before he got to ride it again. “Ever think you’ll find that one place where you want to settle down?” Bowie asked McCain the question that had been burning in his own mind.
“Well, it sure as hell isn’t here. Morale’s already low. The men don’t want to be here as it is. And once they realize the captain’s abandoned ship again, we’re going to have some real attitude on our hands.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing. We could rotate the squads into Hawaii for a little R and R. Each squad once a month. Out on a Thursday flight. In on a Tuesday flight.”
“Maybe I’ll get a chance to use those condoms, after all.”
“Why don’t you take care of the scheduling.”
“That’s one detail I don’t mind your dumping on me.”
“And we can take care of things on this end. We’re here to restore the island, make it a habitat for birds and humans. Human habit
ats include golf courses, baseball diamonds—”
“Clubs,” McCain said.
“Marinas, theaters…”
“I like the way you think.” They bumped fists just as the deuce ’n’ a half rolled to a stop on the potholed blacktop. At some point they’d have ten miles of road to pave.
They’d just finished loading the couch when Tam pedaled up on a bicycle. “What’s going on?”
“It’s moving day,” Bowie said. “We’re taking your things to their new home.”
“Did you ever stop to think that maybe I don’t want you going through my things?”
“We didn’t open any drawers,” he said, once again playing defense. “We just loaded dressers and desks as is.”
“Trust me on this,” McCain added, pressing a hand to his lower back for effect. “There were a few pots and pans in the kitchen cupboards we boxed. And a few items in the bathroom.”
“I’m still going to need time to clean the new place—”
“Don’t worry about,” Bowie said, heading toward the golf cart parked along the residential road. “We got it covered. Come see for yourself.”
She followed them over on her bike. They pulled up at her new house. The outside looked pretty much the same, except he’d removed the screens from the porch first thing, and there were a few men stripping the deck.
Was it too much to hope that she’d actually be pleased by something he did?
He watched for her reaction, which was still wary.
“Hope you like sea-foam green,” he said, going inside. “We didn’t have much to choose from. It will probably clash with your couch, but—”
She stood in the doorway in stunned surprise.
“You hate it.”
“No, you’re amazing…I mean, it’s amazing. How did you—”
“We’re Seabees, ma’am. Roos Kan Do.” McCain tipped his boonie cap as he strode past.
“Of course, we’re not finished yet,” Bowie apologized. “And you’ll want to keep all the windows open tonight, maybe even sleep somewhere else. But we’ll be finished before then.”
Midway Between You and Me (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 14