Forget Me Not (Love in the Fleet)

by Ashby, Heather

  Maybe that’s why she hadn’t done it.

  Perhaps she was afraid of what Jack’s spirit might have to say.

  They hadn’t been on the best of terms when he’d left for his last deployment. She continued to struggle with forgiving him for not leaving an “in the event of my death letter” for her. He had left one for his parents, but not for Daisy. Had he wanted to punish her or had he been so preoccupied with his own problems it had slipped his mind?

  Jack told her about the letter he wrote her before his first deployment, although he’d destroyed it upon arriving home safely. It contained what she’d expected: how much he loved her, how he expected her to remarry should something happen to him, and how he would have died doing something he loved.

  Did those sentiments carry over to his second deployment? Guess she’d never know. Daisy was certain it had been meant to punish her, which was so un-like the Jack she’d married. It reinforced her beliefs. Combat had changed him.

  As to whether or not she’d remarry, forget that. Too painful. But she’d been so lonely. Even filling her time with work and volunteer activities hadn’t put a dent in the loneliness. So regardless of Jack’s permission, whether or not she became involved with another man was entirely up to her. Hadn’t Daisy always prided herself on being an independent woman, capable of making her own decisions?

  She suddenly became so angry with Jack, she wanted to do something reckless to punish him, or would that amount to punishing herself?

  Daisy glanced back at Brian following her through the narrow channel, flanked by layers of sedimentary rock bared by years of erosion. He wouldn’t be her man of choice for a fling, although it would probably be fun. He made her laugh—when he wasn’t pissing her off, like on the mats at the Y on Thursday. The man had flipped her for God’s sake. Pinned her down. And it scared the bejeezus out of her that it turned her on like nobody’s business. She hadn’t been mad at him. She’d flipped him first. She was more upset with herself that she’d found it so exciting. When he’d laid down on her and whispered in her ear, she thought she’d go mad with desire. Right there in the middle of the YMCA. With children around.

  And those kisses the night before. He hadn’t tried to devour her in the Portside Manor parking lot, which she’d expected. If those air-brush kisses were an indication of what it might be like to make love with him…

  Forget it. A guy like Brian Crawford didn’t make love. He had sex.

  “Did you see that?” He slid his kayak alongside hers and pointed to the sky. “See the osprey with the fish? Watch him. He’s not eating it. See how he circles? He’s showing off for the other birds in that tree? Like he’s saying, ‘Hey look what I got. Not going to eat it. Just going to rub it in your faces.’”

  “Must be a male.” Daisy let him pass her and continued with her musings.

  There was still the issue of Brian calling her those pet names, even though she’d repeatedly asked him to stop. But maybe that was a good thing. It let her know he was a player through and through, so she wouldn’t have to worry about any entanglements. She doubted he wanted a relationship, not that she wanted one either. Maybe an affair was just what she needed. It wasn’t like she was out there looking for one. But he obviously was.

  “How ’bout we paddle up to that island and stop for lunch?” Brian called back to her.

  “Sounds good. I hope you like fried chicken.”

  “I like whatever you brought, Daisy. I appreciate your packing lunch. But I would have picked something up, honestly.”

  “No problem. After you told me all you and your roommate keep on hand are eggs and beer, and now cat food, I thought a trip to the deli last night was in order.”

  They beached their kayaks at the edge of the island and found a clearing in the midst of the sea oats. Brian arranged some sun-bleached logs in the shade of scrub palms while Daisy spread out a quilt and unpacked their lunch. It was peaceful here. Quiet and still.

  He cracked open a beer. “I’m really happy you came with me today, Daisy.”

  “I didn’t have much choice. I’m certainly not going to let the kids down.” Daisy pulled out paper plates and served them both. “What’s the word on the helicopter?”

  “I put in the paperwork yesterday. My CO—that’s my commanding officer—he passed it up the chain of command. I’m headed to Norfolk for a class all next week, but I should have a date for you when I get back in town. I’ll let you know so you can alert the Boys and Girls Club.” He gnawed on a drumstick as they talked.

  “Brian—” she began.

  “Remember, you can call me Sky. Or are we still not friends?”

  “You want me to call you the nickname you got for not paying attention? You sound like you’re proud of that?”

  “Never really thought of being proud of it or not. It’s just who I am. It is what it is. I mean, my buddy I’m staying with next week when I’m on travel? His name’s Philip, but we named him ‘Bill Gates’ eleven years ago because he was such a nerd when we first met.” Brian chuckled as he reached for another piece of chicken. “And we’ve called his wife ‘Lacey’ ever since…” He let the sentence die.

  Was he blushing? Daisy doubted anything embarrassed Brian Crawford, but she did detect new color in his cheeks. “Go on. I’m dying to know how Lacey got her nickname.” Daisy helped herself to a handful of chips, then sat back and munched, waiting for what was sure to be another humorous story.

  “Well, see, she and I were on this Med-Evac flight with Bill and she was whispering secrets into his ear and she didn’t know her microphone was on Hot Mic so everyone on board heard her talking about, well, about her lavender lace skivvies—her underwear. Except Bill didn’t hear her because he was in a coma.”

  Daisy bolted upright. “She got her nickname from something she said while he was in a coma?”

  He sobered and lay his chicken bone down. “Yeah. Because I promised her at the time we’d laugh about it someday. And you know what? We do, because Bill survived and now he laughs with us.” Brian paused, then quietly said, “You know, Daisy, laughter heals a lot of hurts. You ought to try it sometime.”

  How dare he? And yet, Daisy knew he was absolutely right. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know the circumstances. I’m glad your friend is okay. And yes, I have to admit, I do like the way you find humor in everything. I’m sorry I jumped down your throat. And despite the fact that you essentially tricked me into going today, I am enjoying this. It’s good to be back in a kayak, back on the water…” and back in a man’s company. “And it’s a lovely day.”

  “Well, then let me ask you this. Since you were tricked into kayaking today, may I ask if you’d be interested in going out to dinner tonight, willingly?” He smacked his head and rolled his eyes. “How stupid was I? I should have had Cory put dinner in the contract.”

  “Sorry, I’m at the emergency clinic tonight.”

  “Geez, Daisy, don’t you ever take time for yourself? Then what about tomorrow? Come on, I’m leaving town on Monday. Can I spend the day with you tomorrow, without having to trick you?”

  “Church.” Daisy gathered up the paper plates and put them in the bag.

  “Then after church.”

  “We’re building a house. My church group does Habitat for Humanity on Sunday afternoons.”

  Brian reached over and laid his hand on hers, stroking her wrist with his thumb. Electricity shot up her arm. She flinched, but did not pull away.

  “Daisy, do you ever take time off?”

  Now she withdrew her hand and looked away. “Not if I can help it.”

  “Well, you know, I can swing a hammer.”

  She turned back to him. “What?” Was he talking about volunteering with her again?

  “Can I join you after church? You know, help build a house?”

  “You?”
>
  “Sure. Why not?”

  “You don’t strike me as the type.” Gulls called overhead, inviting their friends to Brian and Daisy’s picnic. She shooed them away.

  “Type to what? Do community service? What do you think I’ve been doing all week?”

  “Well, that was just to…”

  “To what? Get close to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, I gotta admit you’re right. But was I a pain in the butt, or did I actually serve the community? Did I help out, or was it all about me?”

  “You were wonderful. The kids loved you, and I know you made Captain Duncan’s night on Wednesday.”

  “Look, Daisy. I want to spend time with you. And if it means going to the places you go and doing the things you do, then I’m in. I have to admit if you ever do poetry readings or change diapers, I might beg off. But I can hammer as well as the next guy and I happen to have spent an entire summer roofing during high school. So yeah, I know a thing or three about building a house. And I’ll even go to church with you if I’m invited.”

  “You? Church?”

  “Why does that surprise you so much? I’ve darkened the doorway of a church a few times in my life. And I attended chapel at the Academy, more times than I ditched.” Then he added, “I even stayed awake a couple of times. You make it sound like I’m some kind of heathen or something.”

  “I’m sorry. I guess I’m still judging you on first impressions. I mean, come on. You hit on me the instant we met, you called me belittling names even after I asked you not to, and you tricked me into going with you today. Quite frankly, I’m still not sure I trust you.”

  Brian licked the chicken from his fingers and leaned back on his elbows. He removed his sunglasses and then, looking deeply into her eyes, he said, “Come on, Daisy. Is it me you don’t trust? Or yourself?”

  Sky knew he’d hit pay dirt as she continued to stare at him. And he surprised himself by keeping his mouth shut. Sometimes the filter on his brain actually worked. He was going to wait her out as he stared back, like it was a contest. Who would look away first?

  Daisy did. She opened her mouth, shut it, and looked away. He grinned broadly, and when she glanced back, he saw her gaze flicker down to his mouth. Years of experience had taught him what she was thinking. That space between his two front teeth was like a magnet. Countless women had gone exploring with their tongues and wasn’t he just the gentleman for letting each woman think she was the first to try.

  Oh, yeah. Sky Crawford was nothing if not a gentleman.

  He saw it coming even though he could not believe it. As if hypnotized by his mouth, she laid down her chicken and slowly dipped her head. Her eyes slid shut as she came in for a landing, kissing him tenderly. Heat slammed through him, but his brain had already flipped to commando mode, willing his body not to move. He’d let her call the shots. No way was he going to screw this up by consuming her amongst the vegetation, which is what his primal brain was telling him to do.

  He’d planned to make the first move but there were no complaints coming from the Skylark. They didn’t call him the king of the skies and the bedroom—and apparently the sand dunes—for nothing.

  His hand disobeyed a direct order and began to operate of its own accord. His fingers threaded themselves into her golden mass of hair, something they’d been itching to do for the past four days. The kiss went on. Sweet and gentle. Warm and tender.

  Sky called in all reserves to keep himself perfectly still, afraid of scaring her off. His mouth was the only thing moving, besides the blood pounding through his body. And his fingers in her hair, cupping her head, and pulling her infinitesimally closer. His right hand reported that her hair was, indeed, pure silk as he searched for the barrette thingy or whatever had kept him from knowing how long her hair was or how it might feel cascading over his —

  “Why don’t we stop here?” someone called out, his voice reaching through the tall grass, strangling Sky’s chances at who-knew-what. More voices answered, closer by the second.

  Sky groaned as Daisy pulled away and laughed nervously. “Sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” She unclipped her hair, coiled it up in her fingers, and re-clipped before he could see it down.

  Didn’t matter. Sky was too busy discreetly rolling to his stomach, aroused beyond words, his heart hammering in protest to an incomplete mission.

  “Guess you can tell it’s been a while since I’ve…” Daisy started, once again in control of her hair, and herself.

  “Gone tandem?” Sky sucked in air, trying to appear calm and cool, despite the rush he’d felt that she had started things.

  “Please.” She began to pack up their lunches. “I truly don’t know what possessed me to do that. I guess it felt like you issued me a challenge or something.”

  “And I’d be glad to issue you another one anytime. But no apologies necessary. It’s okay, sweet—Doc. Does this mean I’m forgiven for the Boys and Girls Club?”

  “I suppose. Although that really was a dirty trick.”

  “You don’t like feeling out of control, do you?” He realized how much he’d shocked her when he’d asked for this date in front of the kids.

  “Who does?”

  “Oh, I think there’s a time for control and a time to lose it.” He so wanted to continue that kiss and see where it led. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in finding another island.” It was worth a try.

  Daisy shielded her eyes and glanced out over the sea oats to the water. “We’d better head back. I have things to do before I leave for work.”

  “Are you sure you have to work tonight? You couldn’t call in sick?”

  “Brian, I’m only there at night one weekend a month. And this is my weekend. Sorry.” Aware of his silence, she glanced over at him. “What?”

  He reached up and cupped her cheek, fully expecting her to flinch, but she didn’t. “What are you afraid of?” he asked.

  “Why do you think I’m afraid of something?” Daisy pulled away from him, stood and folded the quilt.

  “Because everybody is. Look, I like you, Daisy. I admire you and respect what you do on a daily basis and after regular work hours. But I worry about you. It doesn’t seem like you allow time for you. Like you fill up your life helping others. Don’t you think you deserve to set aside some time for yourself?”

  “That is none of your business.” Daisy packed the quilt into the kayak, then shoved off, climbed in, and paddled away from him.

  Sky pulled himself together and followed her. Yeah, he liked her. A lot. And she was beyond beautiful and full of surprises. Like that kiss, along with flipping him at the Y. He could get used to those kinds of surprises. And when had he ever been with a chick that volunteered her time to help others? Never. Or one that didn’t tolerate his bullshit? Close to never. Or a woman he respected? Whoa, this was getting serious.

  But she obviously had some kind of baggage stowed away. Sky just wished he knew what the hell it was.

  Chapter 8

  George was on fire. Heat burned through his flight suit, scorching his skin. He felt the fabric melting in the flames, if that was even possible. His skin melted along with it. Skin that was now liquid and dripping down the seat into the cockpit. He watched it drip. Frozen in time. His lifeblood pumped out of him with each heartbeat.

  Drip. Drip. Drip.

  Hands grabbed at him, and a knife cut away his five-point harness. He felt each flick of the knife. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. He should be free now, but as they pulled him from the cockpit, he slipped through their fingers. Because he was liquid.

  And then he knew why. He pulled himself together and fought the men who grabbed at him. He couldn’t leave without Joe. He screamed for them to get Joe out first. He would burn up and it would be okay, as long as his co-pilot got out safely.


  But Joe was engulfed in flames. His high-pitched screams echoed on the air, driving the pilot mad. If Joe would be quiet, George might be able to rescue him.

  He tried to cover his ears, all the while pushing his rescuers away with his elbows. Didn’t they understand? He didn’t care if he lived or died, as long as Joe made it out. Joe had a wife and a baby. Joe deserved to live.

  The rescuers yelled, “Lieutenant! It’s okay. It’s okay. We’re here. Everything’s okay.”

  They kept trying to touch him. To pull him to safety, but he didn’t want to go, because he knew if he lived, and Joe didn’t, he’d pay for it for the rest of his life. Knew it in his bones.

  The screaming continued. He thought he might go insane with it. Joe turned to him on fire and said, “Go, save yourself. I’m already dead. But promise me you’ll take care of Sarah. Please.” He always implored him with that one word: Please.

  Suddenly he realized Joe really was dead. Sarah was screaming. She pummeled George’s chest. Not to put out the flames. To punish him for not saving Joe. He couldn’t fight them any longer. He gave up and let them pull him from the helicopter. They laid him out on the flight deck. Wrapped him in blankets to smother the flames. He was trapped. He tried to kick off the blankets. They pulled Sarah from him, held her, comforted her. But the screaming went on.

  And then he knew. It always happened this way. He was the one screaming. And the hands on him were not putting out flames, but comforting him. To calm him. To quiet him down.

  “Wake up, sir. It’s okay. It’s another nightmare.”