George patted his arm again. “I’m sorry, Sky. But thank God you’re alive. A flight deck mishap is a horrible experience. But I can’t even imagine a real-world under-water egress. Practicing for them was frightening enough.”
“Yeah. Thanks,” Sky said simply, looking straight ahead through the windshield. Shit, he could feel tears pricking the backs of his eyes and he pinched the bridge of his nose hoping to hell he wasn’t going to lose it like that night in the parking lot. He’d leave George there and plead a trip to the head if that happened. And the second he thought of a possible escape, the tears dissipated.
Sky sniffed and was ready to continue, but he somehow found the silence comforting. Neither said a word for a minute or so. Each was locked in their own world and silently and compassionately locked in each other’s, as they stared forward through Little Girl’s windshield. Sky scanned the plain gray bulkhead of the hangar, thinking George wasn’t missing much.
“Joe used to just come in my dreams, but ever since I lost my sight I sometimes see him in the darkness when I’m awake. A sound or a smell will bring him back. I saw him swinging out of an office door at our old squadron when you took me through the building just now.”
“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I’d known it would be so…”
“It’s okay, son. You didn’t mean any harm. Who knows? Maybe it’s something I need to clear up before my time on earth is done. Don’t worry about it. Remember, I served another twenty years in the Navy after Joe died. All around helicopters too. And aside from a few bad dreams, I did okay all those years. It’s just been since I went blind that it’s gotten so bad. And since I lost my wife. She understood. God, I miss her.” He turned and appeared to look out his window now. Out into his dark world beyond the open cockpit door.
“Would it be out of line for me to offer some advice? I mean I know I’m just a punk lieutenant, but I heard something interesting lately. About survivor guilt. There’s a lot of that going around right now, with a war on and all.”
“Shoot,” George invited. Sky had George’s rapt attention now.
“Well, what if, instead of obsessing about what you couldn’t or didn’t do, you focused on what you could or did do? First of all, it wasn’t your fault Joe died.” He put his hand on George’s arm to stop him from arguing. “No, listen to me. It was a malfunction. Technical error. Yes, you might have gotten him out if the crew hadn’t pulled you to safety, but it was their responsibility to get him out in time, not yours. It’s not like you could have fought several men pulling you in the opposite direction, so here and now I absolve you of all guilt. Done. Period.”
George huffed out a little laugh. “I like where this is going. Never thought about it being quite that simple before, but I’m listening.”
“Good,” Sky said. “Because this is the part you really need to hear. Instead of feeling guilty for not dying, think of it this way. You were spared so that you could do something awesome in the world. Like you had a purpose to fulfill. A mission in life. And I’m going to sit here and tell you that you did just that. Think of it this way. You went on and served the Navy for another twenty years. And I bet you did it super-conscientiously after that flight deck accident. Am I right?”
“I like to think so.”
“Who knows? Maybe being so careful prevented other accidents that you’ll never even know about.”
George pursed his lips and nodded his approval at the possibility. “Okay. Go on.”
“And the way I see it, the other purpose you fulfilled in the world was to marry your lovely wife and stay married for—what did you say? Forty-three years? And have five children, who I’m going to assume are responsible citizens in the world today?”
“They are.”
“And how many grandchildren?”
“Nine.”
“See? You brought your kids into the world so you could leave them as your legacy. You were left behind to fulfill your destiny and to make a positive impact on the world through your career and your family. Even if it’s only in your little corner of the world, the world is a better place because you lived, because you didn’t die on the flightdeck that day.”
George stared at him open-mouthed.
“And you lived so that one day you could take this punk lieutenant aside and teach him a thing or two about life. I mean, you changed my life the other day when you told me that getting married was like joining the Navy. Hot damn! Watch out, Daisy Schneider. And who knows? Maybe we’ll pop out a couple of responsible citizens and it will all be because of you.”
That brought a smile to George’s face. “Thanks, son. I don’t know what to say except, I guess you’re never too old to learn a thing or two and...And I think I’d like that drink now.”
As Sky drove George to the Club for that drink, he realized how much their little pow-wow had helped both of them. He was pretty sure George was feeling better about Joe.
And Sky was feeling better about life in general. It had felt damn good to spill his guts. Cleansing. He felt like a great burden had been lifted. Maybe he’d take his own advice and do what Captain Duncan had done. Get married, raise a family, and continue a stellar career in the Navy. And Daisy would never even have to know that he’d had issues. Because Sky knew the secret to survivor guilt, so the dreams would just stop. Right?
Sky was drowning.
He couldn’t catch his breath because his mouth was filled with water. He tried to cry out, but there were no words. Only water.
Daniel was clearly unconscious. Sky had to get Daniel out. It was all he could think about as he fumbled with Daniel’s harness, but his gloves were too clumsy. His hands couldn’t work the buckle. He pulled at his gloves but they were stuck or something. He tried to remove them with his teeth, but that made him swallow more water. He started to choke. He needed air.
Just as panic set in, he heard the pounding on the cockpit window. Sky knew the drill. It would be Jill. She always came and yelled at him to get Daniel out. But when he turned his head, it was Daisy. Lately it kept being Daisy and he knew she wouldn’t let him stay and help Daniel. She always wanted to go kiss in the surf. He knew she would tap him on the nose and say, “Follow me.” Well, not this time, honey. He was going to put his foot down. Getting Daniel out was more important than kissing Daisy.
“Goddammit, Daisy! Leave me alone!” he cried.
“Sky, are you okay?”
When she touched his arm, he jerked away from her. He would not let her distract him from saving Daniel this time. “Leave me the hell alone!” he cried.
“Sky, wake up. You’re having a dream.”
“I’m not going with you, Daisy, go away! I have to get—”
Oh, shit.
Sky wasn’t in a helicopter. He was sitting up in bed, Daisy’s guest room bed. And Daisy was sitting there as well. Staring at him. Daniel did not need saving.
But Sky sure did.
“Sorry. I guess I was…”
“Are you okay? You must have had a bad dream.”
“Yeah.” Was she looking at him funny? He had no idea what he might have said or done. And she wasn’t giving him any clues. She just sat there, looking at him.
“Come here.” She opened her arms to him.
“No, I don’t think so, Daisy. I’m going home.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I don’t think I can handle this sleeping together without sex one more night. I know. I know. I’m the one who said ‘no sex,’ but I haven’t been sleeping well at all.” He tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a snort. “Look, I’m having dreams about it.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
“Don’t be silly. I’ll go sleep in my own bed. You can stay right here.”
“No, I’d feel better if I went home. You know, got a g
ood night’s sleep.”
Daisy tried to make light of it. “Are you sure it’s not because your kitty went home last night. You are so funny about her.”
“Yeah, right. That’s it.” But he wasn’t laughing. “Look, it’s really important that I get enough sleep. I have to be rested in order to fly.” He slipped on his shoes and tucked his shirt in. “I can’t put my crew at risk by being over-tired. I’ll call you when I get up tomorrow. I still want to go kayaking, but I gotta get some sleep. Okay, sweetheart?”
He kissed her and headed for the door.
Jesus, he’d dodged a bullet on that one. Sky pulled out of Daisy’s driveway and exhaled deeply. But by the time he arrived home, he’d convinced himself the only reason he’d dreamed tonight was because his conversation with George was so fresh. And yeah, he was horny as hell and not thinking straight. That was it. It would cause anyone to have sleep disturbances.
It had nothing to do with the fact that his alarm cat had finished her medication and gone back to live at his apartment again.
So he’d been walking a tight rope without his safety net.
The weather was turning cooler and the kayak pier would only be open for another couple of weeks. Not that the winters were harsh in Northeast Florida, but business was not strong enough to keep it open until spring.
Daisy wondered whether she and Sky would still be together once spring arrived. She found it symbolic they were using the tandem kayak today. After doing everything solo for the past couple years, it felt good to travel tandem these days. They paddled in perfect harmony this morning, their oars dipping and receding like a well-oiled machine. He was noticeably quiet seated behind her. A rarity. Perhaps he was upset over his hasty departure the night before.
Sky had surprised her in many ways. The fact that they still had not made love astounded her. She never would have expected him to last this long, but she admired him for sticking to his principles. And it allowed them to concentrate on other aspects of the relationship. How rewarding it felt to cook for someone again. They watched the news together and discussed it. They shared their days with each other. How she’d missed sharing her workday with someone. Even when Jack was deployed, she would write to him every night and tell him about her day.
Yes, this thing she had going with Sky was working out better than she had ever anticipated. And had he given her one iota of player mentality? Surely that would show up after the sex started. They’d have a fun sexual time together and then he’d move on. Well, wasn’t that what she’d wanted? No ties?
Daisy wasn’t so sure anymore. She found herself enjoying every moment with him. Except for last night. That was a little creepy when he’d had that dream. It brought back bad memories of Jack’s nightmares. It was a little weird that Sky felt he had to go home to get some sleep. Poor guy. He probably hadn’t gone this long without sex since he was sixteen. Or since freshman year at the Naval Academy when he was a Plebe.
No. Daisy smiled to herself. She wouldn’t put it past Sky Crawford to have figured out a way to have sex at the Naval Academy, even as a Plebe.
Or maybe she’d been right. Maybe he couldn’t sleep without Daisy Mae wrapped around his head on the pillow. That would be too funny. The big, bad Skylark needing his security cat. She smiled at the very thought of it as she paddled through the quiet, still waters. And speaking of quiet, what was with the big, bad Skylark that he wasn’t talking today? Maybe he was enjoying the peace and solitude of the end of the season too. Nobody out there to spoil the stillness.
Daisy glanced around at the perfect Indian summer day. It had warmed up since she ran her five miles that morning. Sky hadn’t called until ten. Apologizing for leaving so suddenly the night before. When he showed up, he acted especially loving and devoted this morning. He brought coffee and doughnuts and—
“Daisy,” he called softly from the back of the kayak.
“Yes?”
“I’m ready.”
“Ready for what?” She continued to paddle, unaware he had stopped.
“Daisy, look at me.”
She lifted her oar from the water and rested it across the gunwales. Then she turned and looked back at him. “What?”
“Remember when I said you’d be the first to know when I was ready to make love with you? Well, I’m ready.”
Her heart skipped a beat. Warmth crept up her neck. “Oh, my, Romeo.” She tipped her sunglasses down to better look at him. “You want to turn back?”
“Nope.” Sky pointed his paddle at the scrub-covered island where Daisy had kissed him, until they’d been interrupted by that family. “That’s our island. No bedroom ghosts there.”
“You want to make love out here? What if somebody comes along like last time?”
He shrugged his shoulders before grinning broadly and leaning into his paddling. “Simple. I’ll kill ’em.”
Chapter 20
“Kill ’em? Even if they’re American military? Have you gone loco?” Antonio Gonzalez ran his fingers through his thick black hair, trying to calm his nerves. His heart rate doubled at the idea of shooting at the yanquis. He was only a poor mule in the cocaine industry—albeit a smart, and so far lucky, mule. “No smugglers have ever shot at the Americans in this region. And if we shoot at them, won’t they come after us? Like a bee after you try to swat it?”
“Antonio, you must believe you are smarter and faster than the entire swarm,” said José Rodrigues, flotilla El Gerente for Gutiérrez Export Enterprises. He smiled at his own humor.
“I consider myself to be a smart man, José, but not faster than the U.S. Navy or Coast Guard patrol planes and their armed helicopters or their machine guns.”
A knowing smile broke out on Rodrigues’ pockmarked face. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his khaki pants and took a deep breath before continuing. He wore the uniform of a manager, khaki pants and shirt with the Gutiérrez Export logo on the pocket. “First of all there’s an American holiday toward the end of the month so there will be fewer patrols in the skies for a couple of days. You’ll take the Pearl then. And with each of your boats outfitted with three motors you should have no trouble getting the cargo through, even if the yanquis should be in the area. If anyone stumbles onto you, you know the drill. I am confident you can outwit them. That is why I have selected you for this precious shipment.”
Antonio opened the fridge, extracted two water bottles, and handed one to his boss. The window air conditioning unit in the trailer worked overtime, as did the ceiling fan, but it was still too damn hot. He rubbed the bottle across his forehead before opening it. “I am flattered, El Gerente, but I am not certain that I am that smart. So far, on all my drug runs, I believe I have been lucky. And I’ve never been asked to shoot at them before. That could be certain death for all the mules on my boat. Why the change in procedure?”
“New faces at the top. The Don’s son-in-law is now his right hand man. Señor Sanchez has been promoted because the boss’s son refuses to have anything to do with his father’s business.”
Antonio slugged down more water, emptying the bottle. “Didn’t he attend university in the U.S.?” El Gerente nodded. “What an ungrateful asshole. Talk about disrespect. Why, if that was my father I’d be honored to carry on his legacy.”
Rodrigues glanced around, then lowered his voice to Antonio. “Rumor has it the son is joining the priesthood.”
Antonio was stunned. “No way. Imagine being raised in a life of luxury, then throwing it all away to take on a life of poverty. He’s crazy, man.”
“All I know is, Señor Sanchez is now being groomed to take over. He married the eldest daughter and he’s been waiting for a chance to throw his weight around for years.” Rodrigues leaned in conspiratorially again. “Mark my words. There will be more violence. That man is one mean son of a bitch. He is the one who authorized—no, ordered—
you to fire on any yanqui bastards who get in your way. I advise you to do everything you can to avoid shooting at them. But if you have to fire, shoot to kill. You will only get one chance against an American helicopter. If you miss, they will return fire and your whole crew will be dead men.”
Antonio shivered, despite the heat in the trailer.
“However, since the American helicopters have never been fired on down here, they will come in close and give you the perfect shot. Make sure the helicopter splashes and there are no survivors. Leave no traces linking the shoot down back to us. You are smart, Antonio. Which is why you have been given this opportunity to be the boat master for this flotilla. You have proven yourself time and time again and should have no problem getting the three boats to Mexico. And remember, if you are successful, perhaps more boats the next time.” José smiled at him, then turned serious. “If you don’t think you have the cojones for this run then tell me now so I can choose someone else to lead.”
“It’s okay, El Gerente. I can handle it.” But his heart was not following what his mouth was promising. He sucked in several shallow breaths trying to counter his rising anxiety at the thought of firing on the U.S. military.
The Don, Gio Gutiérrez, used all means of transportation for his illegal product: Planes, ships, and small boats, nicknamed go-fasts, because they went fast. He could haul close to five tons of processed cocaine in a drug flotilla, a group of three to five small speedboats that could split up and reconvene if necessary. They were often less conspicuous than the hidden compartments on his container ships, or banana boats. And if necessary, they could outrun anything their enemies put on the water—except the .50-caliber recoilless sniper rifles the American helicopter crews used to take out the engines of the go-fasts.
Fortunately for the Don, too much diplomatic red tape existed to allow American military action within his country’s borders, although the U.S. government’s Drug Enforcement Agency frequently found its way in to assist in the spraying of the precious coca crops. But once his boats or planes hit international waters or airspace, they were fair game and susceptible to interdiction by the U.S. Navy or Coast Guard or one of the U.S. allies.
Forget Me Not (Love in the Fleet) Page 19