When Tides Turn

by Sarah Sundin

  Neither did he. Something even older slipped out of that hidden vault, a bit of mischief. “You said something about going for a polka?”

  “A polka?”

  “That’s what I heard.” He yanked her into his arms and careened down the sidewalk. They left a river of laughter behind them, her laugh the water and bubbles, his the banks and rocks.

  He interrupted the polka long enough to guide her safely across the street, then resumed it. But at the next intersection, he could see the taxi waiting at the far end of the block. Time to slow down. Time for his speech. Time to catch his breath.

  Tess remained in his arms, laughing, and she rested her forehead on his shoulder. “Oh, Danny. You dance as badly as you sing.”

  His face screwed up. “Why don’t you give me another neck rub and add injury to insult?”

  She giggled and gazed up at him. “But I love how you sing. You may sing badly, but you sing with joy. And when you dance, you laugh. Oh, your laugh. You need to laugh more often. It’s wonderful.”

  He had a speech to give, didn’t he? He had so much to say, but the speech dissolved and flowed out of his mind, every word lost.

  Only one thought remained—Tess.

  Tess warm in his arms, smiling and breathless and light and air and everything he wanted. He bent nearer, unable to stop himself, and her laughter stilled and her eyes widened and her lips, oh, her lips, they parted, and she didn’t push away.

  His lips touched hers, and a blaze of color and warmth flooded his being. He hovered, barely touching her, every sense awakening from dark sleep, tingling from the pain of it, the exquisite pain.

  Then she lifted closer, her breath escaping over his lips. She cared for him too. She did, and he pulled her close and kissed her with everything in him, the fullness of the kiss jolting him awake, to life.

  What good was a speech anyway? This was better, communicating the depth of his love, his esteem, his every thought of her, how he wanted her in his life now and forever.

  Tess pulled away, and he dragged his gaze from her mouth to her eyes. Why did she look . . . worried?

  “I—I don’t understand.” She pressed one hand to his chest, right over his thumping heart. “You said—you always say you don’t want a woman in your life, that—that a woman would ruin your career. Why now? Why—why me?”

  Wasn’t that obvious? Hadn’t he just told her?

  Not in words, he hadn’t. And the words, the speech, it was gone. He fished around in the recesses of his brain, but every thought lingered on the kiss, not the reasons behind it.

  Why her? Because he loved her, every bit of her, heart and mind and soul. Everything about her was . . . was . . . “You’re so beautiful.”

  She drew farther away, too far, her gaze sweeping his face, and she blinked faster and faster, two creases forming between her eyebrows. “Beautiful?”

  Why did she look even more worried? Hadn’t he made himself clear? “You are. You’re so beautiful.”

  Her mouth contorted, and she broke free of his embrace and clapped one hand over her mouth. “How could you? How could you say that?”

  The general quarters alarm clanged in his head, but what was the source? Torpedo? Air attack? Fire? Collision? He couldn’t identify the danger, didn’t see where he’d gone wrong. “That—that’s a compliment.”

  She let out a strange sound, not a whimper, not a sob, and she hunched over as if he’d kicked her in the stomach. “How could you? Beautiful? I thought you knew me better than that. I thought you saw inside. I thought you liked me for who I am.”

  The loudspeaker blared the error in his ear. Of all the words to pick, why had he chosen that one? His mouth drifted open, groping for that speech, that fine speech, but nothing remained.

  Tess groaned. “All this time, all this time, and I’m nothing to you, nothing but a pretty face.”

  Until the words came back, he needed to hold her, console her, and he reached out.

  “Don’t you dare!” She flung down her arms, striking his hands away, and she pulled herself tall, her arms shaking by her sides, her eyes deep and dark. “I don’t want your compliments. I don’t want your kisses. And I never want to see you again.”

  His hands hung suspended in the air, empty. His mind reeled, emptier still. What could he say? How could he fix this? “Tess, I’m—”

  “No! Not one more word. No stupid apologies. No stupid explanations. I never want to hear your voice again.” She took off running toward the taxi.

  He unglued his feet from the sidewalk and chased after her. “Tess! Wait up!”

  “No!” She yanked open the cab door and glared at him, her cheeks glistening wet in the moonlight. “I’m locking the doors. Good night, Mr. Avery, and good-bye.”

  The door slammed.

  The cab pulled away.

  Dan threw himself back against the brick wall of the building and thumped the heels of his hands against his forehead. “Why? Why? Why?”

  Beautiful? Beautiful? She’d told him not to call her that. Calling her beautiful was an insult, not a compliment, and he knew it. But in the moment he’d lost his mind and his memory and his fine, fine speech.

  And now he’d lost Tess.

  At 2300, Dan lugged his sea bag down the south jetty to the Bogue. For the first time ever, he didn’t want to go to sea. If only he had one more day, maybe two. Tess needed time to cool down, but then maybe she’d hear him out. He’d never win her over, but at least she’d know she was more than a pretty face to him. She deserved to know that much.

  An officer strolled down the jetty toward him, away from the ship. “Mr. Avery.”

  Dan stopped cold. “Mr. Randolph?”

  “Is that any way to address your commanding officer?”

  His insides twisted, but he saluted. “Good evening, Mr. Randolph.”

  The salute wasn’t returned. “I came to say good-bye. You won’t be serving in ASWU any longer.”

  He sincerely hoped not, but for the second time that evening, an alarm sounded. “Did Commander Lewis say something about a transfer, sir?”

  “Not yet, but you’ll get one. You’re going to Washington, to the most obscure desk job I can find.”

  Dan’s salute stiffened.

  Mr. Randolph’s smile gleamed in the darkness. “You thought you were so high-and-mighty when you destroyed me. A puny little ensign. Well, you’re no better than I am. One man took me down, and one man can take you down.”

  “There’s a difference, sir.” His words ground out. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “But you have.” He inspected Dan’s upraised arm with that hateful smile. “You were away for six weeks and failed to instruct your ensign to handle your work in your absence.”

  Dan’s left hand tightened to a fist around his sea bag. “You know very well why, and Mr. Bentley can vouch—”

  “Mr. Bentley? My word against his, and whose makes sense? You heard Commander Lewis. It’d be ridiculous to order an officer to not delegate his work. The commander wonders whether Bentley was making excuses for his laziness—or yours.”

  Dan glared at the man. “Attack me all you want, but leave Mr. Bentley out of it.”

  “I do intend to attack you.” Mr. Randolph strode in a circle around Dan, a wolf surveying his prey. “You might have temporarily blinded the commander when you finished those reports, but I reminded him that most are long overdue. Your dereliction of duty impeded the war effort.”

  Only years of discipline as an officer restrained his tongue and his fist. Randolph probably wanted Dan to strike him. Then he’d have legitimate grounds for a court-martial.

  “Wait until the commander hears how you were able to finish those reports so quickly.”

  “I already told him, sir.”

  “You told him the WAVES helped you. But did you tell him you shoveled piles of work on them and forced them to work till midnight?”

  “Forced?” Dan’s voice came out too loud. “They volunteered.”
>
  “Volunteered?” His condescending tone scraped Dan’s frayed nerves. “That’s not what it’ll look like when I’m done. No, I see you using your influence with Miss Beaumont—a family friend, you say? Or more?”

  After tonight, neither. The pain and weight of it slammed into Dan’s chest, but he kept his face neutral.

  Mr. Randolph shrugged. “I’ll find out. Girls gossip. They can’t help it. And how could those WAVES resist Miss Beaumont’s pleading? Can an officer ask a rating for a favor? Doesn’t it automatically sound like an order? You tell me.”

  Dan’s salute shook from anger and pain. He’d be away at sea, unable to defend himself. Randolph had omitted the truth, twisted Dan’s motives, and condemned him.

  “Such a shame about that Mr. Avery.” Mr. Randolph crossed his arms and clucked his tongue. “Such a promising officer. Such potential. And he threw it all away.”

  Dan’s breath came hard and fast. If he didn’t leave now, he’d flatten Randolph to the jetty and lose his commission along with everything else. “May I please be dismissed, sir?”

  Mr. Randolph drew in a long breath. “I suppose. Very well. Enjoy your last cruise ever. I must say it’s been a pleasure serving with you again. A great pleasure.”

  Dan stomped to the gangplank, silent. Tonight his words could only do harm.

  36

  Boston

  Saturday, April 17, 1943

  Tess’s eyes opened, dry and swollen. Dull sunlight illuminated Nora’s alarm clock—six o’clock. It wasn’t like her to sleep past sunrise, but after last night . . .

  Her face crumpled, and she covered her mouth and rolled over in bed to face the wall. She hadn’t cried so hard since Hugh betrayed her and got Alice Pendleton pregnant, since she found out Clifford was married and had deceived her from the start.

  Dan’s betrayal shouldn’t sting more, but it did. Hugh and Clifford never looked below the surface, but Dan? She thought he’d looked below and seen and appreciated, and after that kiss she’d allowed herself to believe for one blissful moment that he loved her for who she was.

  A fresh wave of grief, and she pulled her knees to her chest.

  Oh, that kiss, that glorious kiss. First, the gentle hesitation, both of them caught up in the wonder of it all, and then the passion, the fervency, everything she’d ever hoped for.

  Thank goodness she’d asked him why he kissed her, or she’d still be fooling herself.

  She didn’t want Dan to adore her for her looks. Adoration allowed her to be as self-centered as she pleased.

  She wanted him to love her. Love delved deep and inspired her to give, to help, to change and improve. That’s what she longed for.

  But she’d never receive it. She’d never be more than a pretty bauble.

  The alarm clock clattered, and Tess startled. Then she burrowed in the covers. How could she speak to Nora or anyone else today? But she didn’t have a choice. With the War Loan Drive in full swing, she had to report for duty at 0800.

  Nora silenced the clock, her covers shifted, and soft footsteps crossed the narrow room. “Tess?” She rocked Tess’s shoulder. “You overslept. It’s 0615.”

  “I’m awake.” She ripped her attention from her own dilemma to Nora’s, but she didn’t roll over. “How’s your stomach?”

  Nora chuckled, and her bedsprings creaked. “I have a confession to make. I lied. We all went back to Mary and Lillian’s place. That’s why I came home after you were already asleep.”

  “What?” Tess stared at the blank white wall.

  “Lillian was telling the truth about her leg, but she wanted to stay and let Arch dance with Mary. Then we all decided you and Dan needed privacy since he ships out today. Oh, his face when you dragged him into the conga line—simply darling. He’s head over heels—”

  “Stop!”

  Nora gasped.

  Tess flopped over and shoved curls out of her eyes.

  “Oh my goodness.” Nora sat on her bed in pajamas and curlers, her eyes wide. “Have you been crying?”

  Tess kicked off her covers and sat up. “All night.”

  “You poor thing. Because he’s leaving?”

  Hardly. She stumbled to the mirror on her locker. Her hair was a tangled mess, her face splotchy. Dan wouldn’t call her beautiful today. Then he wouldn’t kiss her either. Her chin quivered. “I cried because he kissed me and called me beautiful.”

  Nora sat in silence for a long moment. “And then?”

  “Then what?”

  “What happened to make you cry?”

  Tess spun to her. “Don’t you see? He only kissed me because I’m beautiful. He said so. You know—I’ve told you—I want to be more than a pretty face. I want a man to love me for who I am inside. But Dan—of all the words in the English language, he picked beautiful.”

  Nora’s face clouded. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but he doesn’t strike me as the kind of man to make flowery speeches.”

  “No, but he also doesn’t strike me as the kind of man to focus on this.” Tess motioned in a frenzied circle around her face. “That’s one of the reasons I liked him so much.”

  Nora stood and opened her locker. “What did you do?”

  Tess unbuttoned her pajama top. Like it or not, she had to report for duty. “I was upset, of course. He knew I didn’t want to hear that, but he kept repeating himself, hammering it in. I thought—I thought he cared for me, but he doesn’t. I—I’m just a trinket to him. So I left, told him I never wanted to see him again. And I don’t.”

  Nora was silent as they finished dressing. While she often took time to think things through, this was longer than usual.

  Tess peeked over. Nora wore her white blouse and navy-blue skirt and black tie, and she yanked out curlers, brown curls springing free. In the mirror, Nora’s face reflected red.

  “Nora? Are you all right?”

  “Of course, I’m all right.” Her voice wavered. “I have no reason to be upset. No one had the gall to call me beautiful last night.”

  Tess’s mouth dropped open.

  Nora swiped her brush through her hair. “Some of us have never been kissed. Some of us have never been called beautiful.”

  Tess’s heart went out to her. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “I know what you meant. How long have you and Dan worked together? Hasn’t he shown you through his actions what he thinks of you? Isn’t it obvious he respects you? And you—oh! How selfish can you be? You shooed him out of your royal presence because he chose the wrong adjective.”

  “Nora!”

  “I can’t talk to you right now.” She slapped her cover on her head and grabbed her jacket and purse. “I just can’t. Later. But not now.”

  Tess stared as Nora fled the room, and she vacillated between shock and outrage and sorrow. She’d never seen Nora angry before. If only Tess had more time to explain. If she’d heard everything Dan said, she’d understand.

  With shaking hands, she finished dressing and applied an extra layer of face powder. However, nothing could conceal the condition of her eyes.

  Her cover and purse—why weren’t they in her locker? There—in her misery last night, she’d tossed them on the desk.

  She picked up her cover and saw the compass Dan had given her.

  Pain hollowed out her chest, but then fire filled the empty space. The mahogany box felt cold in her hand. When he’d given it to her on the train, she’d called it beautiful, but he said it was useful and had a purpose.

  Her grip tightened and shook. Her own words, parroted back to her. He knew! He knew what it meant to her. He had no excuse.

  Tess’s arm coiled up, ready to pitch the stupid compass against the wall and watch it shatter.

  “Proof that something can be both beautiful and useful.” His words raced through her head and captured her breath.

  When he’d said that, he’d looked at her with such warmth, as if he meant it about her as well as the compass. Why couldn’t he have said someth
ing like that last night? Why couldn’t he have said nice things like he had . . .

  All the breath drained from her lungs, and she grasped the desk for balance.

  Like the nice things he’d said when she was massaging his shoulders? What had he said? He’d praised her for how she encouraged people and helped them and made them feel better about themselves. He’d called her generous and cheerful and . . . and . . .

  Useful.

  A groan erupted from deep in her belly, and she set down the compass before she could drop it. “Oh no, oh no. Lord, what have I done?”

  Dan had indeed said it. Just not at the exact moment she wanted.

  She doubled over, moaning. Nora was right. Dan had shown her respect through his actions each and every day. Even when he chewed her out, he did it to protect her.

  That day at the office when he’d offended her, she’d stormed off. Last night, she’d done the same. Only last night, Dan couldn’t catch up to her. He couldn’t apologize. He couldn’t explain. She hadn’t let him.

  Tess stood up straight. Maybe she could catch him. Maybe the Bogue hadn’t sailed yet.

  She snatched up her purse, then halted. No, she couldn’t. She had to report for duty. A romantic emergency didn’t qualify as an excuse in the US Navy.

  Woozy, Tess sank into her chair and let her forehead thud onto the desk. Her pain was more acute than it had been last night, because now it was directed inward.

  All this time, Tess wanted Dan to take her seriously, but then she threw a silly fit. She wanted him to see her as selfless, but then she’d treated him selfishly.

  She pressed her hand over her stomach. She thought she’d changed and grown, but she hadn’t.

  She was still Quintessa. Not Tess.

  37

  Argentia, Placentia Bay, Newfoundland

  Friday, April 23, 1943

  Dan shook hands around the wardroom of the USS Bogue after the briefing. Morale was high for the auxiliary carrier’s third cruise, and Dan had labored to prevent his bad mood from infecting the crew.

  After he excused himself, Dan made his way down a crowded passageway. Later this afternoon, the Bogue would get underway from Argentia. In two days, she’d join Convoy HX-235 bound for the United Kingdom. The convoy had been routed farther south to avoid known concentrations of U-boats. The lower latitude would also present better weather conditions for flight operations and refueling.