The Officer Says I Do

by Jeanette Murray

  Right?

  So why did he feel the intense need to man the battle stations?

  Chapter 13

  Skye’s bottom lip felt raw by the time they pulled up to the battalion. It was never a good sign when she chewed on her lip that much. She’d agonized over everything from her outfit to her makeup to her hair.

  And how annoying was that? She wasn’t a self-conscious person. For the most part, people could take her or leave her, and she was fine with their decision either way. It’s how her parents raised her. And thanks to her admittedly unique views on life, she had run into judgmental people all her life. But this was different.

  These were Tim’s people.

  And much like with his parents, she didn’t want to embarrass him or have anyone judge him based on her actions. Nobody wanted to be that girl in groups. The only problem was, in this situation she had no clue who or what that girl was. Or how to avoid becoming her.

  Out of her element did not begin to describe the sensation she was feeling.

  They crossed the grassy field toward the tents set up behind the building that she and Madison had visited Tim in. She could already smell the smoke, the cooking meat, hear the music blaring, and see the children sprinting in circles around each other. A group of shirtless guys played volleyball in a sandy court a few yards beyond the picnic area. It should have been welcoming, comforting.

  Instead she just felt nauseous.

  No. She wouldn’t let this defeat her, Skye scolded silently. It was important for Tim, and she wouldn’t act like an idiot and run back to the car to hide. She would just be herself. Herself was a cool, interesting, down-to-earth person. There was no reason someone shouldn’t like her. It would be fine.

  The pep talk worked, and as Tim steered her toward massive coolers where people were bending over to grab drinks, her nerves started to settle.

  Tim said hello to a few people in passing. He grabbed her a bottle of water and a beer for himself, then headed toward a group of both men and women standing to the side.

  “Hey, guys.”

  They greeted him back, then Tim slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Someone I want you to meet. This is—”

  “Hey, O’Shay bagged himself a nice weekend piece,” one obnoxious man slurred. For the love of the ozone, it wasn’t much past noon and he was already drunk? In Vegas, this would have been typical. But here, it seemed a little unnecessary.

  “Shut up, McNelson,” Tim said quietly. Though he’d made no threat, a person would have to be stone drunk not to hear the venom in his voice.

  Like McNelson. “What? I won’t poach. I’ll just wait until next weekend. You’ll be free, right, sweetie?”

  Before Tim could say another word, Jeremy stepped over and slung an arm around his shoulder. “Hey, McNellie, since you were gone all last week, I wanted to ask you a question.” Jeremy’s voice faded as he led the intolerable drunk away from the group. Everyone else stood in uncomfortable silence.

  All that was missing were some cartoon cricket noises to make the entire thing more bearable.

  “Tim, weren’t you going to introduce us?” one blessed woman spoke up, giving Skye an encouraging smile.

  “Right. Thanks, Beth. This is Skye. My wife.”

  And they were back to awkward silence. A few people looked at each other from the corner of their eye, but nobody said a word.

  “Holy shit, so the rumors are true,” one short, bulky man finally breathed. An even shorter woman to his left elbowed him in the ribs.

  Had he not told any of his coworkers about her? What was she, some dirty little secret?

  No, that’s not right, she chided herself. He wouldn’t have brought her with him to the barbeque if he didn’t want people to meet her.

  Tim went around the circle, introducing the group. Names were never her specialty, but she tried her hardest to concentrate. After she’d shaken hands and said hello, Dwayne leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  “Good to see you again.”

  Ah. She loved Dwayne. He was a teddy bear. “Thanks. Wait, I thought you were deploying again.”

  Dwayne rolled his eyes. “Any day now, they tell me. Any day now.” He scoffed. “Which could mean in an hour, or in three weeks. Meanwhile, my guys get to suffer through never knowing if this is the day they leave. Hovers over their heads like an anchor. Sucks.”

  There were murmurs of sympathy from everyone, all of whom seemed to relate to the unfortunate situation. After a moment the men slipped into what Skye could only consider “shop talk.” Weapons and training exercises and travel arrangements sounded like gibberish to her, but she did her best to at least appear like she was following the conversation.

  A tug on the crook of her elbow had Skye looking behind her.

  The woman Tim had introduced as Beth was standing, one hand on Skye’s arm. She gave her a warm smile.

  “Time to escape the man cave,” she said with a wink and a grin. She tilted her head to indicate a group of women twenty feet away. “It’s safer over there, in the estrogen zone.”

  “You had me at ‘escape,’” Skye joked and followed Beth, who linked arms with her. Already, Skye felt the buzzing nerves start to settle down. Here was someone that had reached out. Maybe Beth would become her new Tasha. She could use a best friend about now.

  “I know my ears start to ring and my brain starts to ooze after ten seconds of listening to that macho stuff,” Beth explained as she led Skye to the gaggle of women. She carried a Southern accent dripping with genuine warmth. She could have been Dwayne’s sister with that accent, if they’d looked anything alike. “I just had to save you.”

  “You are my new best friend,” Skye said earnestly, and Beth laughed.

  “Ladies,” Beth announced as they approached the circle. “This is Skye. She just married Tim O’Shay and she’s new to the area.”

  Heads swiveled, and once again Skye felt herself being evaluated. For a moment she longed for Vegas, where nobody looked twice at you whether you were wearing a ball gown or an Elvis costume. Everyone stood out, which meant nobody stood out. It was safe, comfortable.

  Beth performed introductions. More names she’d forget. Skye slyly checked each woman’s outfit—as all females do—with each introduction.

  Many were wearing simple jeans or capris and shirts. A few wore khakis. Some were in skirts and cardigans, much like Susie O’Shay. But they all seemed to wear more muted colors; their outfits were subtle.

  “Where did you get your skirt?” one asked with a smile. “I love the color.”

  Name. What was her name? Amanda. Yes. “Thank you. I actually got it in Vegas, at this cute little boutique that’s way off the strip. Some of the best shopping is so far off the strip you wouldn’t find it if you didn’t live there.”

  She’d worn her favorite skirt and shirt, sort of a confidence boost. The vibrant purple of the skirt had cheered her up in the privacy of her own room. But now she felt loud. Garish compared to the other spouses in their muted pallets and simple outfits.

  “I actually really like this shirt.” The woman to her left reached out and fingered the puffed sleeve on her shirt. “It’d look awful on me, but it’s great with the skirt.”

  “It wouldn’t look awful on you,” Skye protested, starting to feel a little better.

  When in doubt, a woman’s group turns to fashion. They started to comment on her jewelry, her sandals. What shopping was like in Vegas. And Skye relaxed with each question. They might not dress like her, but they didn’t seem to think she was a freak either.

  “It’s like, boho chic, right?” one asked, tilting her head and studying Skye from head to toe and back again. “Very Mary-Kate Olsen. Though sometimes she just looks homeless.” Her eyes widened, as if she just realized what she’d said. “And you
look cute,” she added quickly, and the group laughed.

  “Okay, who wants to go grab some pig? I’m starving,” Beth announced, and others agreed. Skye followed the women to the food line, grateful for something else to talk about besides her own fashion choices. They had been kind, even complimentary. But it just served as another reminder that she was very different from the other women.

  Variety is the spice of life.

  Except, looking around, Skye realized she seemed to be the only spice at the party. At least from her eye line.

  She contemplated heading to Tim’s table, but all the women sat together and she was having a good time with them. Plus, there was only so much gun-talk a pacifist could listen to before wanting to cry.

  As she dug into her salad, one asked if she worked. Skye talked about her job at Fletchers, and a few others mentioned their jobs. One nurse who worked at the naval hospital like Madison. Another hospital worker, this time clerical. One teacher. And the rest stayed at home, either with children or without.

  Beth told a joke, and Skye couldn’t help but laugh, full out. It felt good, too good. She hadn’t laughed that hard in a while. Then she realized that others had laughed as well, but more lightly. A polite chuckle, really. And here she was, braying like a donkey.

  Well, it’d been funny.

  The other women seemed to be more reserved, but not in a snotty way. No, they were just more quiet in spirit. Their very nature seemed a little more relaxed, calm.

  Skye’s spirit, as her mother used to say, was louder than a ticker-tape parade.

  So you’ll just be the big mouth. Every group’s got one.

  An hour later, they all gathered around an open space while a few of the Marines were coerced into playing a relay game designed to make them look silly. Tim walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her torso; she felt relaxed enough to lean into his supportive embrace.

  “How’s it going?” he asked in her ear.

  “It’s going well,” she said and meant it. Mostly.

  ***

  Tim watched from a distance as Skye laughed with another wife. And he breathed.

  Skye—the beautiful, funny woman he’d married—had been winning people over left and right. Nobody had made a huge deal about their marriage to him, or to Skye as much as he could tell. Minus the debacle with McNelson and his drunk ramblings, the barbecue had gone well. And as far as he could tell, she wasn’t holding a grudge against him for not mentioning the gathering sooner.

  “She’s not what I would have expected,” a voice said behind him.

  Tim felt the temperature around him drop twenty degrees, and he internally groaned as he turned and held out a hand to his CO. “Sir. Afternoon.”

  Colonel Blackwater shook and clasped his other hand over Tim’s shoulder. Though the man had an enviable military career and was a respectable CO to serve under, Tim could never entirely shake the uneasy feeling around him. He seemed to set himself in the father figure role for most officers, playing both professional and personal confidant.

  Tim didn’t need a father figure. He already had one. A great one.

  “She’s unexpected,” Col. Blackwater repeated.

  Tim felt backed into a corner. He didn’t want to say anything about his personal life, period. It was nobody’s damn business unless he chose to share. But it never paid to tell the boss to back the fuck off, either. “She’s great,” he said neutrally.

  “From what I’ve seen of you, your wife is the complete opposite of you in almost every way.”

  “Opposites attract.” How soon could he escape?

  “So goes the saying,” the Colonel said wryly. “Ah. Here’s my own other half.”

  A woman with shoulder-length dark hair and tight lips came to stand beside him.

  “Tim, I believe you’ve met my wife before, Patricia. Patricia, Captain Timothy O’Shay.”

  “Ma’am,” Tim said, shaking her offered hand.

  “Captain O’Shay,” she responded. Her lips barely ever moved; her expression never changed. It was like talking to a wax figure in Madame Tussauds museum. In the past he’d asked her to call him Tim, but she’d ignored his request. So he stopped bothering. The Colonel wasn’t kidding when he said Patricia was his other half. Mrs. Blackwater was his match in every way, including the old-school family values she tried to push on every wife she met. The woman always had a pinched, almost pained expression on her face. Likely still recovering from the pole she had shoved up her—

  “Tim, hey.” Skye appeared at his side, nearly out of breath. Her hair was falling around her face in a curtain of unruly curls, her face was flushed, and she was smiling.

  He wanted to kiss her sun-warmed cheeks. Let his fingers thread through her heavy hair. Feel her sweet, curved body pressed up against his side.

  No, he really wanted to find the nearest horizontal spot, flip her skirt up, and consummate their damn marriage. Again.

  But he refused to give the CO even a small hint into his personal life if he could help it. Maybe that was childish, but oh well. Keeping a small distance between himself and Skye—which hurt more than he wanted—he said, “Skye, you remember my CO, Colonel Blackwater.”

  “Right, hi.” She held out a hand and shook firmly, a friendly smile pasted on her face. But he could see the nerves taking over as she smoothed hair back from her face and her fingers shook. And she was chewing on her lip again, just like in the car on the way over.

  “This is my wife, Patricia.”

  Patricia held out a limp hand, giving Skye an obvious once-over. “Interesting outfit for a barbeque,” she said, her lips pinching together.

  “Oh. Um. Thank you. I like bright colors,” Skye said, her voice trailing off quietly.

  Damn. This wasn’t how he wanted her to feel. “I think we were about to make the rounds and say good-bye to everyone. If you’ll excuse—”

  “How about dinner next weekend?” Colonel Blackwater said, cutting Tim off without hesitation. “I was thinking of inviting a few other officers and their wives over for a little get-together. Saturday night, our house.”

  “I don’t know. Skye might have to work,” he put in quickly before she could say a word. When she shifted to look at him, he put his arm around her waist and squeezed meaningfully. She kept silent. God bless his intelligent wife for being quick on the uptake.

  “Work? Surely you can ask off for important things. Your husband’s boss invites you to dinner, that seems like something you would want to attend,” Patricia commented sourly. Her voice said she was shocked it even had to be debated.

  There was no way to back out of that. “Great. Sounds great.” He excused them and headed for the parking lot, all but dragging Skye behind him.

  “Got everything?”

  “Yeah, I do… but, Tim,” she panted behind him. “Why are we leaving so fast?”

  “I’m just ready to go.” It was an asshole answer, but he didn’t want to get into why he was pissed while they were there. Frankly, he didn’t want Skye to know his misgivings about the CO at all. She seemed nervous enough as it was. No point in giving her something else to worry about on top of her nerves.

  He didn’t relish the thought of having dinner and mixing more of their personal life with work. But there was no way to get out of it now. They’d push through and move on.

  ***

  “Tim, do you really want me to ask off for next week?”

  He caught movement from the corner of his eye and glanced over. Skye was in the passenger seat, her fingers scrunching and releasing the hem of her purple skirt. “Do you work on Saturday?”

  “I don’t know yet. Won’t know until Monday, when Mac has the new schedule out. But it’s easier to ask off before he makes the schedule than it is to trade a shift. So if you want me to…”

&n
bsp; Tim swallowed. “I’ll be going either way. But I don’t want it to mess up anything with your work schedule. I know work is important for you.” Despite what Patricia Blackwater thinks. The old bat.

  Skye was quiet for a moment, then said, “Thank you.”

  “For?”

  “For acknowledging that you understand working is important for me.” She took a deep gulp of air. “I don’t know if you expected your wife to work or not, since we never really talked about that. We didn’t have the chance. But to me, it’s not just about adding to the income. It’s something that I enjoy, and it makes me feel independent and my own person aside from the relationship. So it’s a big deal for me.”

  Matter-of-fact, when Tim thought back to his vague “someday” version of marriage he’d always carried in the back of his mind, his faceless, nameless wife hadn’t worked. Maybe that was because his mother didn’t work outside the home, maybe he just knew he would always be able to support a wife so she wouldn’t have to work, or maybe that’s because he just had no imagination.

  For which Skye would make up for quickly.

  But despite the fact that he never expected her to hold a job or contribute financially, he really didn’t mind it.

  “It’s not a big deal for me. If you like your job, then that’s what matters. If you don’t, then quit. Stay home and make crepe paper flowers all day. Do what makes you happy.”

  Skye’s face split into a huge grin, and she leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “That’s really sweet of you to say. Do what makes you happy. I think there might be a little hippie in you after all, Timothy O’Shay.”

  Tim scowled at that. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself. I’m not running out to hug trees or save otters or whatever.”