When Tides Turn

by Sarah Sundin

  Tess studied his face, the mix of anger and duty and love and loss. “That was too big of a job for Danny, wasn’t it? Dan had to do it.”

  “And I did. My father wouldn’t think to do it. All he could think about was Mom and the babies and his boats.”

  Three young boys darted across the path, screaming about who was “it” in their game of tag.

  Tess paused to let them pass. “So you surrendered some of your childhood.”

  Dan shook his head slowly, staring at the Frog Pond that stretched to their right. In the summer, children waded and splashed in the shallow waters, but now the pond was frozen and deserted. “I haven’t played since I was—”

  “Six?”

  “Eleven.”

  He’d said that without hesitation. “Eleven?”

  “That was when I stopped playing and became a man.” He faced her, his eyes a bit wild. “Do you want the rest of it? All of it?”

  She held her breath. Admiral Howard’s death had shattered him, and stories were seeping through the cracks. They needed to escape. And she was honored to listen. “What happened?”

  “Lillian had her accident.” He winced. “Partly my fault. I was being bossy, no surprise, and I refused to let her play with us boys. So she followed us and accidentally stepped in a trap. She was five. Jim tried to free her, but he was too little. I had to be the calm one. I had to get her out and carry her home and fetch the doctor. He amputated her leg. Then Lucy got sick again. Ed was born not long after, and Mom caught a fever and was laid up in bed for weeks.”

  “Oh my goodness. You had to help again.”

  “Worse. Almost lost the business.” Anger flashed in his eyes, and he marched up the path. “We should catch up.”

  Tess fell in beside him. “What happened with the business?”

  “The summer before the accident, I worked with Mom in the office. She showed me how she did the books and ordering and bills. I liked it. After Ed was born, she asked me to check on things. Good thing I did. She hadn’t had time since Lillian’s accident. Bills were unpaid, overdue. My father hadn’t done a thing. So I pulled it together, kept the business afloat, kept the family from falling apart. He couldn’t be a man, so I had to. At eleven.”

  In all her years knowing the Avery family, this was the first time Tess had heard anything negative about Mr. Avery. “You never complained, did you? Never mentioned what you did. That’s why your brothers and sisters think so highly of your dad.”

  “They need to. Everyone should respect his father.” He walked harder, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets.

  “And you don’t.”

  His shoulders jumped up to his ears, as if blocking her words. “I know. It’s wrong, and I know it.”

  That explained so much about Dan Avery. It explained his serious nature, why he rarely smiled or laughed. It explained his hardworking spirit, why he put duty above all else. And it explained why he latched on to Admiral Howard as a second father.

  Dan let out a short, dry laugh. “And now you don’t respect me. For good reason.”

  “What?” She grasped his arm to stop him. “Oh no. I do. Very much. You did what had to be done. And you did show respect to your dad—you protected him, protected his reputation. That’s respectful. You’re a good man.”

  Dan lowered his chin, his face scrunched up.

  “You are.” She lowered her hand so he wouldn’t think she was flirting. “By the way, so is your dad.”

  His eyes smoldered. “He wasn’t when it mattered most, when his family needed him.”

  Down the pathway, the trees on either side angled together, converging on an imaginary point in the distance. “Perhaps a little perspective would help. What if your father had an accident and were confined to bed? Would your mother build all the boats?”

  “Of course not. She doesn’t know how to build a . . .” His eyes widened, stricken.

  “What would have happened to the business?”

  Dan pressed his fingertips to his skull like a cage. He groaned.

  “Did your father fail?” she asked softly. “Or did he just lack your mother’s business skills?”

  He glowered between his fingers. “He should have—”

  “Because you hold her skills in higher esteem than his skills.” She felt like a heel, but the point needed to be driven home. She felt it.

  Silence. Turmoil. Such a strong man, crumbling before her eyes. She didn’t want him to stay crumbled but to put his pieces back together in a new and better way.

  “It’s all right.” She reached out and rubbed his upper arm, his muscles bunched up under the layers of wool. “My papa says that without perspective, a painting is flat and dull. Perspective adds depth and life. Now maybe your image of your father will have more perspective, your image of your family . . . of yourself.”

  His fingers drifted away from his face, and he looked at her with intensity that powered inside her. She didn’t resist. Oh, what would it be like if he kissed her with even a fraction of that intensity?

  “Color,” he muttered.

  “Color?”

  He blinked, and the intensity washed away. He looked up the path. “We should catch up.”

  “Yes. We should.” She lowered her hand. The moment was over, and he was sealing up his cracks again. If only he’d let her see inside again someday.

  25

  Boston

  Tuesday, February 16, 1943

  “Brr!” Tess burst into Dan’s office, her cheeks bright pink. “Is Mr. Randolph around?”

  Dan eased back in his chair. “He’s at the Rad Lab today.”

  “Thank goodness. May I warm up in here before I see the WAVES?” She unbuttoned her coat.

  He’d say yes anyway. “It’s cold out there.”

  “Cold?” Bill Bentley barked out a laugh from the desk behind him. “Record low last night, didn’t you hear? Fourteen degrees below zero.”

  “Yes,” Dan said, “but it’s supposed to be fourteen above zero this afternoon. Break out the dress whites.”

  Tess laughed and blew on her hands. “Well, your office is always warm and cozy.”

  Bill pointed to the wastebasket. “Mr. Avery and I keep a fire burning there, our hopes and dreams going up in flame.”

  “Is that so?” Tess cast a sympathetic look to Dan and then to Bill, and she perched on the edge of Dan’s desk. “What do you hope for, Mr. Bentley? Going to sea?”

  “Not me.” His cheeks flushed, and he turned to the papers on his desk. “I like office work.”

  Dan pushed a piece of scratch paper closer to Tess and sketched a heart. That was Bill’s dream, hindered by the Navy.

  Tess’s eyes twinkled, then she dove into her purse, pulled out a lipstick, and colored the heart red.

  He couldn’t help but chuckle. She’d done it again—added color.

  “What are you two giggling about?” Bill asked.

  Dan crumpled the paper. “Nothing.”

  Tess leaned back against the wall. “So, Mr. Bentley, what is it about office work that you enjoy?” She asked in a friendly way and listened intently as Bill rambled about files and people and aiding the war effort.

  Dan slipped the crumpled paper into his jacket pocket and studied the young lady close before him. She did add color, not just her blue uniform and green eyes and yellow hair and pink cheeks and red lips, but her personality and insight and warmth.

  Despite all his intentions, he’d fallen hard.

  “Now.” Tess patted the desk in front of Dan. “We just have to figure out how to get Mr. Avery back to sea.”

  Dan’s heart sank. “It’s hopeless. I ought to wait a few months before requesting a transfer again. Meanwhile, Randolph undermines me at every turn.”

  “I was thinking. Can you get someone else to request you on his ship? How about those carriers in the Chesapeake? Did you meet the COs?”

  “They see me as a desk jockey.”

  “If they could see you in action . . . could
you get on board doing ASWU duties, like you did for Torch?”

  “I doubt—” A memory flashed through his head. “Wait. Captain Short—the day Admiral Howard died—I forgot—”

  “Forgot what?” Tess leaned closer, her eyes lit up.

  “Captain Short, on the Bogue. He said he hoped ASWU would put someone on board for the maiden cruise. He said I’d be welcome.”

  She clapped her hands. “Perfect! Do you see? You could fulfill your duties here by gathering data, which would show respect for Commander Lewis. And if the request came from the captain, how could Lewis say no?”

  Lewis would be outranked. Randolph would be bypassed. Important work would be done. And no one would be offended. His mind swirled with hope.

  “Wow, Miss Beaumont,” Bill said. “You’re brilliant.”

  “Nonsense. Dan would have thought of it.” She gave Dan a smile. “Just send a tactful letter to Captain Short.”

  “Tact isn’t my strength.”

  “But it’s mine. I could help.”

  “Right now?” He pulled out a fresh piece of paper.

  “Well, sure.” She touched the open box for the compass from Admiral Howard. “May I?”

  “Please do.” He uncapped his pen. Her gifts of tact and encouragement balanced his brusqueness and ambition.

  He scrawled down a few sentences, scratched out a too-blunt phrase. How could he concentrate with Tess sitting on the edge of his desk?

  Then she stood, tilting the compass up and down. She paced the width of the office, back and forth, then spun in a circle.

  Suddenly she stopped, her eyes wide. “Goodness. You must think I’m silly.”

  “No. No, I don’t.” She was cute, playful, fun, but never silly. One corner of his mouth edged up. “But what were you doing?”

  “Oh, I just find compasses fascinating.” She rotated it in her hand. “They always point north no matter what.”

  “They never deviate.”

  “Isn’t that wonderful? Even if you take side trips or spin around or veer off the path, the compass stays true. You can always find your way.”

  “Stay the course.” Admiral Howard’s voice bellowed in his head.

  Did Dan have it wrong? Following the admiral’s advice, he never deviated from his course. No rest, no fun, no romance.

  But that wasn’t the purpose of a compass, was it? Or of a goal. Over the past few months, he’d rested. Yet his work hadn’t suffered, his goal hadn’t changed, and his dedication hadn’t diminished.

  Could he meet his goal if he added more fun to his life?

  Or romance?

  Dan stared at the compass in Tess’s hand. The right companion could encourage him on the journey, while adding depth and perspective. Color.

  “Well.” Tess set the compass back on the desk. “That’s enough playtime for me. I’ll go check on the WAVES.”

  Dan bent over his paper. “I’ll have the rough draft done in fifteen minutes.”

  “I’ll be back.”

  “Very well.” His voice came out gruff.

  He wrote hard and fast. Get the important points down, the data, the facts. Tess would soften the wording. He had to focus, focus, focus.

  Bill let out a low whistle. “Careful, Mr. Avery.”

  “Careful?” He didn’t turn around.

  “You know what Commander Lewis said about the WAVES, about the Navy regulations.”

  Dan’s fingers tensed around the pen. “I would never violate regulations or go against a commander’s recommendation. And neither would you.”

  “Of course not.” Bill’s voice lowered. “But still, be careful. I told you what Mr. Randolph said to Miss Beaumont. If he suspects anything is happening between you two, he’ll speak to her CO and have her reprimanded and transferred.”

  Dan’s shoulders slumped. He could imagine the vile things Randolph would say about Tess. “Nothing is happening between us.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Bill didn’t sound convinced.

  He grimaced. If Bill had suspicions, so might Randolph. “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful. I’d never do anything to hurt her.”

  “I know. I just—”

  “And I appreciate it. Now I have a letter to write.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dan’s eyes squeezed shut, and his hand slipped inside his pocket to the wadded-up paper with his penned heart and her red lipstick. He didn’t want to end up like Admiral Howard, alone and unloved. Not anymore.

  He wanted a companion. He wanted Tess.

  But his personal feelings didn’t matter. Not only did the Navy have regulations, but Dan needed to guard Tess’s reputation and her position. She loved being in the WAVES, and she was doing good work. No matter what, he’d protect her.

  Dan shoved the paper into the corner of his pocket and grabbed his pen. The best way to protect Tess was to get away from her, to the sea.

  26

  Boston

  Sunday, March 7, 1943

  “Thank you, men. That’s perfect.” Tess smiled at the four sailors who had set up her war bond booth in North Station. “See you at 1830.”

  “Aye aye, ma’am.” They departed.

  Tess gazed around the crowded concourse. Perhaps she should feel guilty. Agent Sheffield assured her Yvette was clean, but Tess couldn’t shake her concerns. The Ambassador arrived from Montréal at 1830, while trains from Cape Cod arrived throughout the afternoon. Tess could see if Yvette and Henri traveled together, and from which direction.

  “Miss Beaumont!” Thelma Holt dashed to her with Celia Ortega and Ruth Feingold in her wake. “Did you hear the good news?”

  Her insides tangled up. She knew what the WAVES were talking about.

  Celia clasped her hands in front of her chest. “The Navy changed its mind.”

  “WAVES and Navy men are allowed to marry!” Ruth pointed to her ring finger.

  “Which means they’ll start asking us out,” Thelma said.

  “I know exactly who I’m—”

  “Not if I get to him fir—”

  “And did you see the darling white uniforms they approved for summer?” Celia linked her arm through Ruth’s. “Won’t we look cute walking out with big handsome sailor men?”

  “Ladies!” Tess held up both hands. She never thought she’d see the day when she’d be the voice of calm and reason. “Attention!”

  The WAVES looked surprised, but they snapped to attention.

  “I understand your excitement. Many of the officers share it.” Indeed, only she and Nora seemed to be unsettled by the news.

  She stared them down. “But first, as sailors in the United States Navy, you are expected to behave with decorum at all times. Yes, you are allowed to date, but you will not chase after the men.”

  “Aye aye, ma’am.”

  “Second, no flirting on duty. How many officers and sailors didn’t want women in the Navy because they thought we’d be a distraction? Don’t prove them right. That is an order.”

  “Aye aye, ma’am.”

  “Third, don’t forget what some are saying—that we’re nothing better than prostitutes.”

  Ruth gasped.

  Tess fixed a strong look on her. “I know you’ve heard it, or you’ve seen it in the papers. Prove them wrong. Be completely professional, dutiful, and ladylike.”

  “Aye aye, ma’am.”

  “And remember our purpose. We enlisted to free men to fight, not to snag them. Understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Carry on.”

  The women turned to their duties, more subdued but still shining with excitement.

  “I’ll go drum up business.” Tess grabbed her poster and headed toward her target platform.

  Thank goodness Dan’s appeal to Captain Short had succeeded. The captain had called Commander Lewis immediately after he received the letter, and Dan had shipped out on the USS Bogue not long after.

  He’d been gone two weeks, and she couldn’t help but worry. The U-boats had return
ed to the North Atlantic convoy routes, and many ships had been sunk recently.

  But Dan wanted to be in the thick of action. That was where his country needed him.

  “Buy your war bonds.” Tess smiled at an elderly couple. “Help our boys overseas.”

  As much as she missed Dan, she was glad he was absent. He’d moved from disdain to grudging acceptance to friendship, but he was adamantly opposed to romance and everyone knew it.

  Even if he changed his mind, she’d have to conceal her feelings for him. Mr. Randolph had threatened Tess’s position if he suspected anything romantic between her and Dan. What would he do to Dan? She couldn’t give him any leverage.

  Maybe she should request a transfer. She could go to Mare Island with Kate Madison or to Jacksonville with Ada Sue Duncan. But then she’d miss Mary and Lillian and Nora.

  “Do your bit.” She waggled her poster. “Buy bonds today.”

  The Second War Loan Drive was scheduled to begin April 12. This time she had enough notice to prepare. She mentally reviewed her plans for the first drive, set aside after the Cocoanut Grove Fire. Now she could implement them and improve them.

  She’d spoken with Rear Adm. Robert Theobald, the new commandant of the Boston Navy Yard, and he’d approved rallies. She’d schedule rousing speeches and entertainment—a band and a singer? A comedy act? Maybe a Hollywood star?

  “War bonds,” Tess called. “A solid investment for your future—and for victory!”

  The Boston Navy Yard had earned the coveted Army-Navy E Pennant in February for meeting production quotas. She could capitalize on pride in that accomplishment to meet bond sale quotas too.

  On April 22, Mary was letting her set up a booth at the launching ceremony for two new destroyer escorts. One of the ships was being christened the Dempsey after a Lt. Thomas Dempsey, killed in the Battle of Savo Island when the Vincennes was sunk. Dan’s ship.