Where or When: A Pearl Harbor Romance

by Bretton, Barbara

  "Take it slow," he warned as they waded out into deeper water. "You don't want to cramp up."

  He held her under the arms and she let her body go limp. The water caressed her belly and breasts, closing around her shoulders with the tender warmth of a lover's kiss. Her limbs floated weightlessly as she gave herself up to sensation.

  #

  She was a goddess. One of those sirens he'd read about in school, a fantasy beauty made to lure a sailor from the sea.

  Everything about her was perfect, from her pale pink toenails to the mane of coppery gold hair drifting over his arms like wet satin.

  "Don't look at me," she said, her voice a dreamy whisper. "My leg...."

  "Your leg is beautiful," he murmured. "You're beautiful...."

  Gently he carried her into the shallower water where he sat on a rock with Eden lying across his lap. Her leg was pale and slender. She cringed as he slid his hand from her knee to her calf.

  "Don't," she whispered. "I'm embarrassed."

  He kissed her into silence. The muscle in her calf trembled as he massaged it with the pads of his fingers, letting his movements deepen with each stroke. She moaned quietly, a sound deep in the back of her throat. His entire body reacted to that sound. He moved his hand away but she trapped it between her two then placed it back against her thigh.

  She was warm beneath his hand, firm and pliant. He did his best to convince himself he was only helping her regain her strength, but they both knew the truth. He needed her nearness the way he needed air to breathe.

  #

  Minutes stretched into hours. The sun began its fiery descent, bathing everything in an orangey-pink glow. Eden's senses were acutely heightened. She felt alive to every sensation the world had to offer. Even something as ordinary as the sand beneath her feet held something wondrous to behold. Who would have imagined that sand wasn't sand at all, but a miraculous blend of color: tiny dots of ebony, buff, ivory, and a throbbing scarlet that took your breath away. Had the world always been so filled with wonder or had she only just become aware of it?

  At night she was so charged with emotion that she turned to her painting with renewed passion as a means to release the kaleidoscope of feelings swirling through her heart and soul.

  "I suppose I should get home.” Eden lay in Rick's arms on the warm sand. Her entire body resonated with his nearness, with her desire for him. To the surprise of neither one of them, the slow and sensual leg massage had soon veered into the erotic. A part of Eden had wanted to give in to the moment, to stop fighting her desires. This was paradise, after all, the most beautiful spot in the world. She couldn't imagine a more perfect place to learn about the secrets of love. And he cared for her--the tender way he'd massaged her bad leg was proof that she was more than a pretty little doll to him. She'd been open and vulnerable, painfully embarrassed at first, but this was Rick, after all. The man she could lean on. He would never hurt her. She knew that the way she knew that God was in the heavens.

  Maybe it was time.

  #

  But Rick had had other ideas. He wouldn't live long enough to understand how he summoned up the strength to stop things before they went too far, but somehow he did. No matter how it made him ache, he owed it to her. She didn't know what she was asking for. She was too innocent to understand the way it would change her life. Everybody with eyes knew she was a flirt, but it hadn't taken Rick more than five minutes to see that her flirtatious ways were a dodge, a way to keep men at a distance. There was nothing casual about Eden. She was complex and passionate, and she deserved the best life had to give, not a tumble on the sand with a sailor who had nothing but himself to offer. That was going to change, however. One day soon....

  Next to him Eden stretched then leaned over to peer at her watch, which rested atop her neatly folded clothes.

  "I think we'd better get back home," she said with obvious reluctance. "It's almost six.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek.

  He drew her into his arms again. "Look at this place," he said, gazing out at the ocean beyond the cove. "Back home everyone's bundled up in winter coats and huddled around the stove.” He shook his head. "They'd never believe this."

  She leaned up on one elbow and studied him carefully. "I try to imagine you with your family in Chicago, but I can't seem to make it come alive."

  He chuckled at her earnest expression. "You can't imagine it, princess, because you've never seen anything like it.” He told her about the snow-blocked streets and the hellish winds that roared up the alleys and made you wish you'd never been born. "I knew there had to be more to life than spending half of it praying for spring. I would've done anything to get out, to make something of myself."

  "You make it sound so bleak. I've been to Chicago. It's a wonderful city."

  "Yeah, the part you saw.” Fancy hotel suites with a view of Lake Michigan. Expensive shops and even more expensive restaurants. "You didn't see the half of it.” Not his half. Eating bread and potatoes for dinner five nights a week so your parents could scrape together enough money to pay the rent. Being ashamed to call the doctor because you already owed him for his last three visits.

  "I'd wondered where this ambition of yours came from.” She touched his mouth with her fingertip. "I'm afraid I never gave much thought to the future.” She lifted her shoulders in a graceful shrug. "I guess I always thought the future would take care of itself."

  "Sometimes it does," he said. "That's what I've always been afraid of."

  Chapter Eighteen

  Rick pulled up in front of the Forrester house a little after seven o'clock. He and Eden had been quiet on the way back from their cove, each painfully aware that this was the end of their idyll.

  He turned off the ignition and set the parking brake then turned to meet her eyes. She looked fragile and lovely. Only her beauty reminded him of the girl he'd first met that night at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel. The prickly, sharp-tongued girl had somehow been replaced by a vulnerable woman. A woman who needed him. How the hell had it happened so quickly? His dreams for the future had changed. They weren't about just himself any longer; they included Eden, as well.

  Not that he could say that to her. It was too soon and he had so little to offer her, beyond a lot of hopes and dreams. She was used to the finer things in life, to a level of comfort Rick couldn't come close to providing. At least not yet. Maybe it was a good thing he'd be getting back to doing his regular job, front and center, smack under Admiral Forrester's nose. You didn't get a push up the ladder for driving an Oldsmobile--or by romancing the boss's daughter.

  And you didn't win her hand by being anything less than the best.

  #

  Eden waited while Rick walked around the front of the car and opened the passenger's door. "I never thought I'd say this, but I miss my cast."

  He held out his hand to help her from the car. "Your leg bothering you?"

  She shook her head. No, not my leg, she thought. My heart. "I'm going to miss you, Rick.” There, she said it. Admitted her feelings for him and the world continued to spin. She swallowed hard and took another step into the void. "You've been wonderful."

  He looked at her oddly then gave her that cocky grin she'd come to know so well. "We sure got off to a rocky start, didn't we, princess?"

  Princess. "You haven't called me that for awhile."

  "You haven't acted like one for awhile."

  They fell silent. Say something, Rick. I'm not your boss any longer. She couldn't suggest a ride through the moonlight or a morning swim. It was all up to him now.

  The silence deepened. She leaned against the porch railing. He plunged his hands in his pockets. The balance between them had changed with the speed of a tropical storm, leaving them both confused and uncertain. At least Eden was confused and uncertain. She could only assume Rick was, as well.

  She stole a glance at him. He was looking out toward the Koolau Mountains in the distance, his strong profile outlined in the gathering twilight. Maybe he wasn't confused
, she thought. Maybe he knew exactly what he was doing.

  Mali's voice, high-pitched and excited, floated through the screen door. "I can't keep track of what's going on in this house. Supper is ready and I'm...” The sound faded as Mali moved further into the house.

  Eden cleared her throat. "I should be getting in. Mali must be anxious to get home."

  Rick nodded. "I'd better get the Olds back where it belongs. Your old man's probably looking for it.” He turned and started down the porch steps.

  Her heart sank to the ground.

  "Oh, yeah," said Rick, stopping halfway down the steps and turning back to look at her. "There was something else."

  "You forgot the car keys?” she said, her tone icy. She could feel her old defenses slipping back into place.

  "No," said Rick, taking the steps in one leap. "I forgot this."

  He bent down and kissed her quick and hard.

  "You're not my boss any more," he said.

  "I know.” Her defenses were slipping back down.

  "I don't take orders from you."

  "That's right."

  "If I want to see you, I have to ask for a date."

  "That's right, too.” Ask me...please ask me....

  "So how does a movie tomorrow night sound?"

  "It sounds wonderful."

  He kissed her again and then once more. "See you tomorrow, princess."

  She stood there and watched until the Oldsmobile disappeared down the street. He beeped the horn twice when he rounded the corner and she laughed out loud with pure joy.

  Life was wonderful! If her leg had been stronger she would have danced into the house. All of her worries vanished as if they'd never existed. To think that an idiotic thing like a broken leg could lead her to--

  Lead her to what? She paused in the foyer. This was more than friendship...much more than affection...only love seemed to describe the way her heart swelled with emotion each time she saw him...or the way her heart ached each time they said goodbye.

  Maybe it was, she thought as she headed toward her room to change for dinner. Maybe this was the way Melanie had felt when she met her husband or how Tony had felt when Lilly--

  "Lilly!” Eden stopped short and stared through the open door to the guest room. Her sister-in-law lay propped up in the double bed. "What on earth--?"

  "Surprise," said Lilly, her oval face paler than usual. She lay covered by a Nile green quilt Eden's mother had made the year before she died.

  "Where's Tony?" Eden asked, crossing the threshold. "Have his orders been changed?"

  Lilly's sigh filled the small room. "Tony is on his way to San Diego."

  "Are you--is it the baby?"

  Lilly nodded. "I had contractions off and on yesterday and since my blood pressure spiked today, it seemed prudent to stay behind."

  "But you'll be able to follow Tony soon, right--as soon as your blood pressure goes back where it should be?"

  "I'm afraid I'll be here until after the baby arrives."

  "Oh.” Eden didn't know what to say. Lilly must be heartbroken, being separated from her husband at such an important time. And yet she looked so cool and in control. Lilly's composure always made Eden feel like a hysterical female. Every time she thought she just might be able to find something about her sister-in-law that made her accessible, Eden found herself face to face with another one of Lilly's darned admirable qualities. It was hard to make friends with a woman who was bucking for sainthood. "How--how are you feeling?"

  Lilly's eyes closed for an instant, but then she rallied and her smile was back in place. "I've been better," she admitted, "but it's wonderful to have family to be with."

  "Oh, Lilly, you're too good," said Eden with a sigh. "Don't you ever get angry and throw things and shriek at the top of your lungs when things go wrong?” Eden knew she would be in a horrible state if she'd been left behind like Lilly.

  "No," said Lilly with a shrug of her shoulders. "I rarely fight what cannot be changed."

  "How do you know things can't be changed unless you try to change them?"

  "A question for Solomon," Lilly said. "I'm afraid the only thing I look toward changing in the near future is my son's diapers."

  Despite her calm demeanor, Lilly looked unwell. Her hands moved across her belly in graceful arcs but the pinched lines about the woman's mouth and nose belied her composure.

  "I'm surprised Tony didn't delay his plans," Eden said, wondering if Lilly was in pain at the moment. "He's so excited about this baby.” Never in a million years would Eden have believed her brother would miss the big event.

  "This from an admiral's daughter?” Lilly's smile seemed amused. "You, of all people, must know that time and the military wait for no man."

  "Or woman," said Eden with a pointed glance toward her sister-in-law's belly.

  "Or baby," Lilly added. "You can't argue with the navy, Eden. I knew that when your brother decided to join."

  "Doesn't it make you angry?" Eden stood near the door and fiddled with a pot of flowers resting atop the dresser. She wanted to dig deeper, pry beneath the Lilly's smooth surface and see if just maybe Lilly was as filled with contradictions as Eden sometimes seemed to be. "I'd be furious if my husband went off some place just when I'm about to give birth."

  "We never thought it would be this way," Lilly reminded her. "Life has been known to alter the best of plans."

  "Well, all I know is that I would be positively furious if I were in your position. Trapped all by yourself some place where--” She stopped, horrified at what she had almost said. ...where you're not even wanted... The words seemed to hang suspended in the air before her, resonating. She cleared her throat. "I'd better change for dinner."

  Lilly nodded, but said nothing.

  Eden wished she'd been half as wise.

  #

  Lilly wasn't feeling well enough to eat supper at the table, so Mali prepared a tray for the expectant mother. Tender slices of white chicken, delicately seasoned rice, braised celery and a small hearts of palm salad.

  "That looks wonderful, Mali," Eden remarked as the housekeeper started for the guest bedroom.

  Mali beamed. "The missus needs her strength. Big times ahead of her.” She clucked loudly. "Big times."

  The mysteries of motherhood. Eden sighed. It all seemed so far beyond her reach.

  "Why don't I take the tray to Lilly?" Eden asked. "You must want to get home."

  The look on Mali's face was almost comical.

  "For heaven's sake, Mali!" Eden exclaimed with an embarrassed laugh. "Do I have two heads or something?"

  "I'll take the tray, but thanks anyway, Miss Eden.” Mali paused in the doorway. "There's a letter for you on the sideboard."

  Eden watched Mali's round figure disappear down the hallway.

  "I must be a monster," she said to the empty kitchen. All she did was offer to carry a tray and Mali looked at her as if Eden had volunteered to ford a raging river for her. She'd always thought of herself as a kind person but more and more lately she'd seen these glimpses of herself through the eyes of other people and those glimpses had been less than flattering. The letter was from Melanie, a thick sheaf of blue papers filled with rhapsodic descriptions of married life and juicy bits of Washington, D. C. gossip. "You'd adore it here, Eden," Melanie wrote. "It's been ages since you've seen snow. Why not plan a winter vacation on the east coast?"

  Eden laughed as she read about Melanie's problems with the D. C. transit system and her frenzied search for a winter coat. "I haven't needed a winter coat in five years," wrote Melanie. "Can you imagine me, swaddled up to my eyeballs in rabbit fur?” Melanie's favorite outfit on Oahu had been a pair of white shorts and a bandeau top. "You absolutely must come for a visit, Eden. I miss you so much! Charley has a hundred eligible second lieutenants working for him at the Pentagon. You'd have your pick of the litter!"

  Six months ago that invitation would have set Eden's heart racing. She reached for her stationery and fountain pen to tell Melan
ie that she'd be staying exactly where she was--at least for the near future.

  #

  Mali left soon after seeing to Lilly's dinner tray. Eden had been meaning to ask about Mali's daughter for weeks now but thanks to one thing or another, it had kept slipping her mind. Nani liked to draw and Eden had found two lovely sketchbooks tucked away in her dresser drawer that the eleven year old would adore. The second she heard Mali's beat-up truck crunch its way down the curving driveway Eden tossed down the letter she was writing and she hurried outside to ask Mali, but it was too late. The truck had already disappeared down the street.

  She didn't have much of an appetite so, after she'd finished her letter to Melanie, she ate what she could of the salad plate Mali had prepared then wrapped the leftovers in waxed paper and put them into the Frigidaire. Her father had telephoned to say he had a business dinner with Admiral Kimmel. "Don't wait up for me, honey," he'd said with his booming laugh. "You know how Kimmel likes to tell those long stories of his."

  Alone, Eden once again felt that sense of dislocation in her own house. She didn't feel like painting or reading or even listening to the radio. Melanie's letter, so filled with unbridled happiness, had gotten under Eden's skin, calling up emotions better left undisturbed. Like envy, for one.

  She stepped out onto the lanai and settled herself in the chaise longue. It was a beautiful night; the sky was a rich velvety black spangled with stars and softened by a wispy haze. Faintly she heard the sounds of the radio floating through the open window of the guest bedroom, music and laughter generated by some stateside comedian.

  Melanie had a husband and a home and a brand new life. Lilly had a husband and a brand new life right there inside her, waiting to be born.

  Eden thought of Rick, of his dreams and ambitions. Of how far he'd come from the Chicago streets and how far he still wanted to go. The thought occurred to her that she might be a steppingstone, a means to those greater goals that burned in his gut, but she pushed it from her mind. What a foolish notion. There was nothing she could possibly do to help advance his career and certainly her father had never asked her opinion on any of his men. Even if he had--well, what could she possibly have said? "Ed Brinkman's a wonderful dancer...Franklin Smith knows the words to all the popular songs...” Somehow she didn't believe her opinion would carry much weight.