Where or When: A Pearl Harbor Romance

by Bretton, Barbara

  "You're crazy."

  "Not about this."

  "I suppose you think I'm intimidated by you, too."

  "No," she said, "but you would have been if we hadn't met the way we did. You like to be in control, Rick, and when you're not you retreat."

  "When did you get your degree in psychology?"

  "When did you get your degree in pigheadedness?” She debated the wisdom of pursuing the topic but decided to go full-steam ahead. "You wear that rough childhood of yours like a medal of honor. Do you think it protects you from having to take the next step?"

  His response was vulgar and to the point. "Then why have I been busting my butt to get into officer's training school?"

  "For all I know that's just talk."

  "Ask your father."

  "I'd rather ask you."

  "Cut me some slack, will you?"

  Of course, that was the last thing she could do. She was onto something and, like a dog with a bone, she couldn't let it go. "You hate everything about officers and yet you want to be one yourself. Maybe you should rethink your goals, Rick. You couldn't endure an hour at an officer's party. What makes you think you could stand a lifetime?"

  He started to say something but abruptly changed his mind.

  "Go ahead," she challenged. "Don't censor yourself on my account.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. The expression in them would have stopped another woman. Unfortunately it didn't stop Eden. "Say it. Whatever it is, say it."

  "Forget it," he said, glancing away toward the street. "It's not important."

  "I just want to understand."

  "You want to understand," he snapped. "Okay, princess, let me give it to you straight: I hate people who've had it easy. I hate people who think the world owes them something just for existing, people who sit around on their cans day after day expecting someone to take care of all their problems--"

  "People like me?” She rose to her feet, stinging from his words. "Don't look at me like that, Rick. You described me perfectly. The only word you left out was parasite."

  "I'm not talking about you."

  "It sure sounded that way."

  "Believe it or not, princess, not everything revolves around you."

  "Don't call me that."

  "Why not? I thought you were proud of who you are, the princess in her ivory tower, far away from the great unwashed."

  "Is that how you think of me?” Anger and pain meshed inside her heart until she wondered how it was she kept on breathing.

  "Isn't it how you think of yourself?"

  "I'm not going to apologize for being born lucky, Rick."

  "Yeah? And I'm sure as hell not going to apologize because I wasn't.” He stopped pacing and looked at her. "You know, maybe we've got this wrong. Come to think of it, maybe I was the one who was born lucky. At least I know what the world is really like and I know I can make my own way in it. How about you, princess? If push came to shove, what would you do?"

  "Marry well," she snapped, "just like all good princesses do."

  She started down the driveway, head bent low. Their words hung in the air like a poisonous fog. Her eyes swam with tears and she stumbled over a rock and would have fallen if Rick hadn't caught her by the arm and set her back on her feet.

  "Let go of me.” She slapped his hand away and continued walking.

  "Where are you going?"

  "None of your business."

  He fell into step with her. "I brought you here, I'll take you home."

  "I can take care of myself.” She brushed away her tears with short, choppy gestures. "Contrary to popular opinion."

  "You're my responsibility," he said. "I'm taking you home."

  "Responsibility," she said with a strangled laugh. "That sums up our relationship perfectly, doesn't it? Take care of the daughter and her father will take care of you.” It fit together all too neatly. She'd been forced on him by her father. A lousy job, driving her around, but someone had to do it. Six other sailors had bailed out on her. How better for an enterprising sailor to get noticed than to make a success of somebody else's failure? All that sweet talk and sweeter kisses had but one purpose: to score points with her father.

  "Too bad your scheme backfired and you're still stuck at Pearl as a lowly sailor.” She didn't bother to brush away the tears that flowed freely down her face and onto the front of her blouse. "I wish--"

  She heard footsteps coming up behind her. Not again. The last thing she needed was some well-meaning friend trying to force them back to the party.

  She turned to see a tall and lanky officer with a somewhat familiar face.

  "Steve said you were here."

  She stared up at him blankly then involuntarily looked over at Rick. There was no help to be found from that quarter. Those days were over.

  "Harry," he said, laughing at her obvious confusion. "Harry Englund. Remember...the Royal Hawaiian...the Blue Grotto...?"

  A baseball-sized lump rose into her throat as she remembered that night. The night she'd met Rick Byrne and her whole life changed.

  "It's good to see you," she managed after a beat. "I--I'm sorry I seemed so dense."

  "No problem.” Harry clutched a half-empty crystal tumbler in his hand and was obviously one Scotch on the rocks away from being in his cups. He turned toward Rick who stood, arms folded across his chest, glaring at the young officer. Eden held her breath. "I know you," Harry said, pointing his finger at Rick. "You were at the Royal Hawaiian that night, too...you and Eden....” He considered Rick carefully while he searched for his words.

  Don't say it, Eden prayed. If Harry said anything even remotely condescending, Rick would probably punch him and then all hell would break loose.

  She needn't have worried.

  Rick stepped forward and shook hands with a startled Harry. "I'm her driver," he said, his voice cold and clear as the ice in Harry's glass, "but not for long.” His eyes bored straight into Eden's heart. "Congratulate me, princess. I leave for Norfolk in three weeks."

  Officer's training school, courtesy of Owen Forrester.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Mostly what bothered him was that she was right. Not right about everything--that would have been too much to take--but she'd scored enough direct hits to the gut that it had taken him six hours and almost as many beers to count them up.

  It should have bothered him that she'd left him stranded when she stormed off, leaped into her car, then drove away without giving him a backward glance. He'd felt like a first-class jerk, standing there with egg on his face while good ol' Harry just laughed and said, "Looks like you're out of a job."

  Sure, it made him mad as hell that she'd leave him there twiddling his thumbs, but still it didn't bother him the way her words had. He did his best to drown those words in a sea of beer but he didn't have much luck. A snob...you're the snob, Rick....

  He made it back to the barracks around two a.m., bleary-eyed and sporting a black eye, a souvenir from a little bar northeast of the naval base. Good thing he had a weekend furlough. If he'd been caught sneaking in after hours with this shiner, Forrester would've canceled his appointment to officer's training school so fast Rick's head would spin. He stripped down to his shorts and sprawled across his cot. Staring up at the ceiling, he spent the next few hours trying to convince himself things weren't as bad as they seemed.

  He'd worked hard and he'd been rewarded. In a few weeks he'd be on his way to Norfolk, Virginia and a brand new life with people who were just like him. Regular guys from regular places who got there by working hard and long, not by being born lucky.

  You're the snob, Rick... Eden's voice was as clear as if she were in the room next to him. He kicked off his sheet and punched his pillow.

  A snob. Strange thing to call a guy who didn't get his first pair of new shoes until his tenth birthday, but there it was. For years he'd been judging people by their birthright and not by their abilities; exactly the way he refused to be judged.

  Born with a silv
er spoon in your mouth? Then step to the rear, pal, because Rick Byrne had your number. Have one of those blue-blooded names that set society people to genuflecting? Move over because he was going to leave you in the dust.

  Have all of those advantages plus a few extra like brains, ambition, and the ability to work hard? You might as well be invisible, because Rick Byrne would never know it. His mind was made up and nothing and no one had ever come close to showing him his own prejudices.

  Until Eden.

  He swore softly. The sailor in the next cot grumbled then went back to dreaming about Betty Grable. Lucky guy. Betty Grable was a Hollywood fantasy girl, always beautiful and sweet and supportive. She'd never tell the guy she loved that he was a jerk, even if it was the truth.

  He sat up, bunched the pillow behind his head then leaned back against the wall. No, the fantasy girl wouldn't zero in on your Achilles heel then throw a spotlight on it, just in case it had escaped your attention. Fantasy girls made a man feel good. They agreed with your most hare-brained opinions, waxed enthusiastic over your craziest schemes, and looked the other way when you slipped up.

  They sure as hell didn't force you to open your eyes and look at yourself the way you really were or challenge you to dig deeper and reach higher than even you thought you dared.

  That's what he got for thinking they had a chance together. He could work hard, go to school, have a chestful of ribbons and medals, but he'd never be the kind of guy she wanted. Not in a million years.

  If she hadn't let him know exactly what she thought of him, he might even have done something really stupid like ask her to marry him. Actually he should thank Eden for tonight. She might have saved them both a lot of heartache. She really did deserve a big fat thank you for her efforts.

  "Yeah," he said out loud, ignoring the grumbles coming from the other cots. If he left now, he could be at her house by seven-thirty, say his piece, then have the rest of the day for himself. Wrap it all up nice and neat and then they could forget about each other forever. That was the least he could do, considering she'd saved them a lifetime of misery.

  #

  By four a.m. Eden finally made peace with the fact that she wasn't going to fall asleep. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.

  She'd counted sheep, listened to Lilly tossing and turning in the next room, and then listed Rick's shortcomings.

  Arrogant.

  Bull-headed.

  Cranky.

  She made it all the way to the letter "Q" before she grew exasperated with the endeavor. Why bother listing his shortcomings when he was out of her life forever? It didn't matter what he was or where he was any more. In fact, she hoped he was stranded somewhere on a dark, deserted road far from civilization.

  The thought made her smile for the first time in hours. Yes, she kind of liked the idea of the rough, tough Rick Byrne jumping at every spooky noise. Wouldn't she just love to see him quaking in his boots every time a palm tree rustled its leaves or a rooster crowed? Mr. Big Shot from the worst neighborhood in Chicago, looking like the coward he was.

  You couldn't stand the truth, could you? she thought, pulling on a cotton top and a pair of shorts and wandering out toward the kitchen for a glass of pineapple juice and some of Mali's coconut cookies. Oh, he loved to call her "princess" and toss her good fortune in her face, but when she turned around and pointed out a few of his own shortcomings he'd acted like she'd impugned his masculinity.

  Who needed a man like that?

  She'd been a fool to believe there could be any kind of future for them. A blind woman would have seen there was no hope. Two people couldn't be more different than she and Rick Byrne. He wanted success more than he wanted anything else...more than he could ever want her. Maybe for a moment they'd had a chance, but at the first taste of reality their fantasy world had turned to stone.

  But wasn't there some truth to his words, too?

  "Oh, be quiet," she muttered to herself, listening to the sound of Lilly padding back to her room from the hall bath. She didn't want to think seriously about any of the things he'd said to her. He'd said she'd never been tested harshly, but she had lost her mother. Wasn't that enough of a test for one lifetime? Not everybody had to walk through fire to prove herself a worthwhile human being. Rick had an exaggerated sense of the way life should be. Maybe in his world you had to get your bumps and bruises to prove you had what it took to get by, but who said that was the only way.

  I worry about you, honey.... Why would her father's words come back to her when she was thinking about Rick? You wouldn't last a week on your own....

  She sagged onto a kitchen chair. Her own father agreed with Rick. She was pretty, saucy, and about as useful as a flat tire. In an emergency both men felt they'd be better off with a trained monkey by their sides than with Eden.

  Anger raced through her, but that anger was directed as much toward herself as toward her father and Rick. Why wouldn't they think that when she'd spent the better part of her twenty years staying one step ahead of unpleasantness, cultivating a southern belle, life-of-the-party personality that made her the most sought after guest at every gathering, in every town she'd ever lived in? It was a lot easier than challenging herself, or looking inward, or trying to figure out her place in the world.

  Her brother had figured out his place in the world the day he met and married Lilly. He'd been willing to short-circuit his medical career in order to make a life with her. Lilly was a doctor and soon to be a mother. Eden's father had built a brilliant career out of nothing more than sheer will power. And Rick--Rick was only at the beginning of the road but she couldn't imagine anything life could throw in his path that would deter him from reaching his goal.

  Only Eden hadn't a clue. Everyone else had faced up to challenges and walked away victorious. In one way or another they'd tested their mettle and discovered their worth.

  All she had done was behave abysmally when she broke her leg and drive six grown men to risk her father's wrath in an attempt to get away from her. Her life so far was a series of parties, with occasional breaks for school and shopping. If they gave medals of valor for leisure time pursuits, Eden would have a drawer filled with them. She did her best to tap dance around anything that might upset her or cause her to think too deeply and, for the first time, she understood why.

  What if she looked inside her heart and discovered there was nothing there but cotton candy and nail lacquer? That her pretty face and fancy ways were all she was. That she was about as substantial as a Valentine card, all pink and lacy and forgotten the minute the clock struck twelve.

  I'm the lucky one, princess, Rick had said to her during the height of their wretched argument.

  Maybe he was, at that. How could you know what you were capable of if you were never tested? There in the safety of her home in Pearl Harbor, she couldn't imagine coming up against anything more difficult than deciding which party to attend.

  A wave of fatigue washed over her and she yawned. Outside the sky was beginning to show the faintest rosy glow of dawn. She glanced at the clock hanging over the kitchen sink. Five minutes after five. She yawned again. She knew she was too keyed up to sleep, but maybe she'd rest her head on the table for a moment....

  #

  Owen Forrester, golf bag slung over his shoulder and lucky medal in his pocket, was halfway to the front door when he caught sight of his daughter asleep at the kitchen table. Her coppery hair was knotted atop her head in a bun and she wore a cotton shirt and a pair of pink shorts that had seen better days. Asleep she reminded him of the little girl who used to run to Daddy and ask him to kiss away the pain.

  Too bad your kids didn't stay kids forever. It was a hell of a lot easier to bandage a cut finger than it was to explain life to a headstrong twenty-year-old woman.

  The house had been alive last night. Owen was normally a heavy sleeper, but he'd been aware of Lilly's heavy tread as she walked the floor in the guest room. He'd been tempted to knock on the door and ask if she needed help. The thoug
ht had occurred to him that babies arrived when they wanted to, not when it was convenient. But Lilly was a doctor. She'd know when it was time to ask for help.

  And then there was Eden, his beautiful girl, asleep at the kitchen table. She'd stormed into the house early last night then disappeared into her room, slamming the door behind her. Over the years he'd seen many young men come and go in his daughter's life, but no eager swain had ever engaged her emotions the way Rick Byrne had. She'd floated through dates both good and bad with the same devil-may-care attitude she displayed toward most things in life. No guy had ever mattered more than another.

  Of course it had only been a matter of time.

  He'd heard her crying in her room last night, great gulping sobs that sounded as if her heart would break, followed by the sound of small objects smashing to the ground. How much it reminded him of his courtship with Marguerite. Great highs and great lows with little in between. He'd sell his soul for a chance to relive those glorious days.

  He smiled as he looked at his daughter. Maybe he'd have a chance, through her and through Rick.

  Gently he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Eden," he said. "Sleepyhead..."

  Eden blinked comically, like a cartoon character awakening from a Rip Van Winkle sleep. "What--?"

  He laughed affectionately and ruffled her hair. "You fell asleep at the table, honey."

  She yawned, eyelids at half-mast. "I was up all night."

  "I know."

  Her eyelids lifted another degree. "I hope I didn't keep you up."

  "It was one of those nights."

  She eyed his golf bag. "Coming or going?"

  "Going.” He looked at the clock. It was almost seven. "And if I don't get a move on, I'll miss tee-off."

  "Heaven forbid," said Eden, stifling a yawn. "I'll never understand the attraction of golf."

  "Just make sure the man you marry does. I need a good partner."

  Eden's lower lip began to tremble and Owen slid his golf bag off then leaned it against the table.

  "Feel like talking?"