One Star-Spangled Night

by Rogenna Brewer

  “Used her?” He snorted.

  Of course, he had.

  Lindsey tried not to look too surprised when thirty minutes after her phone call Captain Doug Reese sauntered past her to the open-air vender on the pier. She was so stunned, however, she almost forgot to salute.

  “Two hot dogs and two sparkling waters,” he ordered, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. “What do you want on yours, Chaplain?”

  “Um...mustard.”

  “One mustard dog. And one chilidog.” He paid the man and walked to the nearest picnic table where he invited her to sit with an almost imperceptible nod.

  “Thank you.” Lindsey accepted the hotdog and peeled back the wrapper.

  “For what?”

  “For lunch. For meeting me.”

  He removed his cover and set it aside. She followed suit. The late May sun beat down on their heads. The temperature was pleasant unlike the atmosphere.

  Unwrapping his chilidog, he attacked it with a plastic spork. She hoped he had a cast iron stomach because what she had to say wasn’t going to sit well on top of that spicy chili con carne. “You didn’t leave me much choice, Chaplain.”

  Lindsey surveyed the almost deserted pier, populated by the occasional passing sailor or civilian shipyard worker. The Captain couldn’t possibly have taken her seriously. “I guess not,” she agreed, then took a bite of her dog.

  “After three days of phone messages,” he said, “I thought it was time we resolved our lovers spat.”

  The way he emphasized lovers made her blush like a teenager. She dropped her gaze to the weathered wood between them.

  “That is what you have my crew believing, Chaplain. It stops right here. No more phone calls.”

  “I’m sure your crew wouldn’t dare believe anything other than what you tell them.” She reached into the pocket of her khaki skirt and handed him the folded piece of paper. “I just wanted to return this.”

  He hesitated only a moment before taking it from her. As he did, his scowl deepened.

  “I didn’t read it,” she reassured him. “Not intentionally, anyway.”

  There was skepticism in his green eyes as he unbuttoned the breast pocket of his khaki uniform, stuffed the paper inside and buttoned the shirt again in one efficient movement.

  “However,” she continued. “I think it’s only fair to tell you Admiral Dunning called after you left.”

  “I see,” he said in clipped tones. “And what did you tell the Admiral?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Good girl.” He nodded his approval.

  Lindsey bristled. “Don’t patronize me, Captain. You may outrank me…you may even think me a naive and lowly lieutenant—”

  “But?” he prompted.

  This was supposed to be the Captain’s wake up call and she was here to deliver that message. “I’m all that stands between you and losing command of your ship.”

  Doug stared her down. “Not much of a threat, Lieutenant.”

  “That’s why you chose me, isn’t it?” She turned away from his steady gaze and ripped at her napkin.

  “That’s exactly why I chose you.”

  There were several chaplains stationed aboard his ship, but Doug didn’t want to confide in a subordinate under his command any more than he wanted to find a chaplain of equal rank at the Naval Base or nearest Naval Air Station. Hell, he had the Navy’s entire North and Southwest Regions at his disposal, but he’d signaled out a lowly lieutenant, as she’d so aptly put it, because she wasn’t a threat to him.

  She was a pretty, young thing—in a brown eyed, brown haired, girl-next-door kind of way. Young enough to be his daughter and just out of seminary.

  Certainly not worldly enough to beat the devil at his own game.

  Doug frowned as mustard dripped from her hotdog and landed on her single row of campaign ribbons above her breast pocket. She’d been in long enough to have served with a Marine Corps unit in Afghanistan. His participation in numerous campaigns had taken place several thousand feet above deck. Often providing cover for the servicemen and women in immediate danger. He had a lot of respect for ground pounders.

  She dabbed at the mustard with a paper napkin, making an even bigger mess of her Khakis. He reached into his trouser pocket for a hanky and handed it across the table.

  She looked surprised by the courtesy but she accepted it. “Thank you.”

  “Try the seltzer water.” After another two minutes with both of them preoccupied with her rack, he cleared his throat. He didn’t need to be staring at her breasts. “If we’re about done here, Chaplain, I’ll have my yeoman call your yeoman to set up our next appointment. Once a week for a month ought to satisfy the old man.”

  To him the Admiral was the old man. But to everyone else he was the old man.

  She looked up from rubbing mustard into her ribbons. “I don’t want to be your counselor. I have no interest in holding a weekly staring contest with you, Captain.” Setting his hanky aside, she leaned forward and folded her arms across the table. “I told Admiral Dunning I thought you were perfectly fit to command. But he insisted on a minimum of ten counseling sessions with a written evaluation of your mental fitness at the end.”

  “Twice a week, then.” Doug reached for his cover. “Four weeks, five weeks—” Whatever it took to placate the Admiral. Just so long as nothing stress-related went into his permanent medical record. He couldn’t take certain prescription medications without getting his wings clipped. Which included prescription sleep aids. So what was the point of seeing a shrink?

  Being a Carrier Captain was a 24/7 job. As an aviator himself, Dunning knew that and had agreed to Doug seeking out a Navy Chaplain’s counsel. A lot of Captains used their senior shipboard chaplain’s as advisors because of the confidentiality. The Admiral had probably assumed Doug would do the same.

  “What about ten days?” She shrugged. “We could meet here for lunch. You don’t want to be counseled and I don’t want to be your counselor.”

  Doug set his cover back down. “Lunch?”

  “We don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to. But you do have to stick it out for the whole hour.”

  If this was her attempt at reverse psychology, she’d find him a hard nut to crack. “Not a problem.”

  “I’m going to need your go pills.” She held out her hand.

  “My what?”

  “Caffeine pills. You’re a jet jockey. I know you have a stash. So, whatever you call them…hand ‘em over, sir.”

  Her sugarcoated belligerence was his undoing. He’d dealt with his share of insolent junior officers, but not one of them had been clergy. He wanted to laugh at that determined look on her face. Instead, he dug the pill bottle out of his pants pocket and dropped them into her waiting palm.

  “They’re not prescription?”

  But they were available through the ship’s doctor. He could get more anytime he needed.

  “No coffee or caffeinated beverages after 1900 hours. If we’re not going to deal with the cause, we’ll deal with the problem.”

  “Which is what, exactly? That I put in 18-20 hour days? Now that’s amusing. Have you even been stationed aboard a ship, Chaplain?”

  “No,” she admitted. “I don’t really know anything about shipboard operations.”

  “Let me educate you. A ship never sleeps and neither does her crew or captain.” A crew might rotate shifts, but a ship had only one captain. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to head back.” He slapped his cover to his head.

  “Even in port?”

  “What?” Doug stopped short.

  “The Admiral thinks you should get some rest before the next cruise. That’s all.”

  “Now you’re privy to what admirals think?”

  She shrugged. “He told me. He likes the way you stepped up in a crisis and wants to make you more than just the interim Captain.”

  Doug had assumed he’d be stepping down as Captain of the Enterprise just as quickly as he
’d taken command. He’d even researched his role for the Change of Command ceremony. He was missing one important credential for commanding a carrier. He’d never been the XO. He’d gone from being the Operations Officer to Executive Officer and Commanding Officer all in one day. But he did meet all the other requirements, including two years of nuclear reactor school.

  He’d been a naval aviator for twenty-six years, the last ten of which had been dedicated to the single focus of commanding the Enterprise. He’d been both CO and XO of an Air Wing and a Cruiser. Was it possible? He could actually be the Big E’s next Commanding Officer and not just her interim Captain?

  The tightness in his shoulders eased and took up residence in his chest. “I’ll see you tomorrow at noon, Chaplain.”

  “Wait.” She pulled out her cell phone. “What’s your number?”

  He cocked a brow. “So you can harass me over my cell phone?”

  “As a courtesy. In case one of us is running late,” she said with a touch of indignation. “So I’m not bothering your staff.”

  “Think twice before bothering me,” he warned as they exchanged numbers.

  Gathering her things to leave, she got in one last parting shot. “Oh, and you’re buying. Since I’m only a lowly lieutenant.”

  Doug couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched her walk away.

  “Lieutenant,” he called after her. She turned and walked backward. Doug simply shook his head. How did she get through OCS, Officers Candidate School? The woman had no military bearing whatsoever and if she wasn’t careful she’d step right off the pier. “Wear your running shoes tomorrow. And if you’re late, don’t bother calling. You’ll have a hard time catching up.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lindsey wasn’t a clock watcher by nature. Normally, she had to set her cell phone alarm just to remind herself not to be late, but her mind kept wandering from the premarital inventories she was trying to grade.

  Premarital tests weren’t designed to pass or fail a couple. She just wanted to identify key areas the soon to be Mr. and Mrs. Marietta might need to work on.

  After checking her watch for the tenth time in as many minutes, Lindsey gave in to the inevitable and hurried off to change into a pink and black racer back tank with built in running bra and matching black running skirt.

  She wasn’t about to let the Captain take off without her.

  The pier was within walking distance of the chapel annex and she arrived fifteen minutes early to find Captain Reese stretching his quads. Even though she knew he had to be a career officer with twenty or more years in service, she would have guessed him to be much younger. He had the body of a twenty something and dressed like a frat boy in a worn gray T-shirt and shorts.

  A sure sign he was a bachelor.

  A wife would have thrown out that rag a long time ago.

  His martial status was no concern of hers, although she did feel a professional curiosity after noticing his lack of a wedding band yesterday. A lot of married military men and women didn’t wear them because of their jobs. Or wore breakaway bands for fear of losing a finger.

  Any speculation on her part was wrong.

  As wrong as this nervous anticipation she felt at seeing him again. She’d meant it when she’d said she had no interest in being his counselor. But Admiral Dunning hadn’t given her a choice. So she was kind of stuck with the job.

  But that didn’t mean she couldn’t look forward to spending time with Captain Doug Reese and getting to know him better. Sucking in her breath, Lindsey strode up to the man who’d remained oblivious to her arrival.

  “Warming up without me?” The moment the words slipped past her lips, Lindsey wanted to retract them.

  Oh, that didn’t sound like a come on.

  When he turned around she saw he wore his usual scowl. But the slight lift to his brow and curl to the corner of his mouth suggested he might be more amused than annoyed. “Just a little stiff.”

  Do not even think it, Lin.

  “I keep telling myself it’s the mileage, not the years. Been around the world seventeen times, but I’ve never seen anything quite like what you’re wearing.” He looked her up and down. “Should I have brought a racket? Or maybe pom-poms?”

  She followed his gaze down her outfit. “It’s a running skirt.”

  “Okay, then.” He nodded toward the distance and took off in that direction.

  Lindsey was no match for his longer stride, but that didn’t stop her from trying. He led them away from the pier along the seawall. The slight breeze coming off the ocean helped dissipate the petroleum-based odor as they left the shipyard. An occasional runner passed them going in the opposite direction while gulls echoed in the distance. It could have been a pleasant run on a nice warm, but not too warm, late May afternoon.

  “Where’s the fire?” she asked after awhile. Her words came in pants despite the fact she’d just spent a year running around in battle dress with a full pack on her back in one hundred and twenty degree desert heat.

  “Need me to slow down, Chaplain?”

  “Not on your life.” She wished she could muster a burst of speed to prove it. Despite her best effort, she was already beginning to fade as they rounded the point.

  He glanced at his watch and adjusted his pace accordingly. “You lasted five minutes longer than I thought you would.”

  “Does it look like I’m quitting?”

  “Before the questions started,” he clarified. “Two so far.”

  “Those weren’t questions so much as sarcasm.”

  “You’re just full of surprises.”

  “Now who’s being sarcastic? I meant what I said. We don’t have to talk.” She shot him a sideways glance. “But I’m a good listener. It’s part of the job description.”

  “Navy Chaplain.” He seemed to mull over her profession. “Now there’s a calling within a calling.”

  “I received my undergraduate degree in theology from Cornell and went on to seminary studies at Wheaton. I entered the Navy’s chaplain candidacy program in graduate school.” She shrugged. “The rest as they say is history.”

  “Impressive credentials, Ms. Alexander. But why the Navy?”

  “That sounds like a question, Mr. Reese.”

  “I’ll give you one, if you answer.”

  “Unemployment and student loans.” It was a cop out answer, but no less the truth, even though he looked like he was about to call her on it. Most of the sailors and Marines she counseled just needed to talk. She suspected the Captain needed to build trust before he’d open up.

  “I was an archaeology major when my grandmother died. She was a woman of strong convictions and I’d lived with her from the time I was born. My parents were missionaries.” Only the hollowness remained whenever she talked about her mother and father. “I was maybe seven when they were wiped away by a tsunami.”

  “That’s rough,” he said without the usual platitude.

  “Trust me when I say the last thing I envisioned was going into sea service or ministry. But God works in mysterious ways. With Gran’s passing, I was late to enroll for the last semester of my junior year. Almost all the classes I wanted were full, except for an opening with a brilliant professor considered the Indiana Jones of religious artifacts. He was a passionate man whose insights made me look at things differently. By the end of the course, I had plenty of questions about life and death and love… I had a yearning for answers and that’s how I wound up here.”

  “So you had a fling with your professor—”

  “I did not say that. He was twice my age and married.” The Captain looked at her with his special brand of skepticism. “Okay, I had a thing for him and we almost kissed once, but I never would have allowed it to go that far.”

  “Overcome with guilt, you took a vow of chastity.”

  “Quit trying to rewrite my history. I’ve never taken a vow of chastity.”

  “But you felt guilty.”

  “Everyone feels guilt.”

&nbs
p; “Everyone feels sexual attraction. But you’ve never acted on it.” His gaze narrowed as if he’d caught a glimpse into the very depths of her soul. Lindsey swallowed hard and focused on the horizon. “I can see it in your eyes, Chaplain.”

  She had yet to find the man who challenged and excited her in quite the same way as Dr. Indiana Jones. Until now. Don’t let him read that in your eyes. “How did we get on this subject?”

  “I’m a good listener.” He used her words against her. “You were telling me why you joined the Navy.”

  “It wasn’t because of a man,” she said. “Unless you count The Man up top. While searching for the meaning of life, like every other twenty-something, I found myself gravitating toward seminary.”

  “Unlike most twenty-year-olds.”

  “I had my doubts,” she admitted. “I lacked the experience and conviction for my own ministry. So I prayed for purpose instead. One day a Navy Recruiter showed. He talked about the need for chaplains in Afghanistan. I knew right then and there that was my mission. It’s given me the opportunity to work with a diverse group of sailors and Marines. Since joining the active Reserve I’ve discovered I like working interfaith and going wherever the wind takes me.”

  Lindsey swiped at the perspiration across her brow. She should have stopped with her credentials. There was a difference between being authentic and being vulnerable. She’d opened herself up a little bit too much. Her ponytail had come loose and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You owe me one.”

  “Fire away.” He checked his watch again and turned them around at the point. Across the bay, luxury liners and sailboats felt like a different world. Smaller, more intimate than the shipyard.

  “Why don’t you just tell me something about yourself?”

  He shot her a curious glance. “I’m not that easy.”

  Silence stretched out for several foot pounding beats. Their labored breathing became louder than the wind and waves and rush of distant traffic while she thought of a question. She wanted it to be something that would give her a glimpse into his heart. “Why is command of the Enterprise important to you?”