‡
Skagan initially felt like a spider weaving her web. She felt intuitively or via pheromones or whatever biological magnetism God has wrought that Ike Kaplan was attracted to her. She was developing some feelings toward him but heaven knows what. This was something new. Intuition told her Kaplan was not what he seemed. He was more than just a hospital corpsman. The Navy seemed like a stepping stone in life to something else for him–but what else?
Her apartment had two bedrooms, a working kitchen with adjacent dining area, and a huge living room that could pass a white-glove inspection any day of the week. Her furnishings were all quality Mission style which were added step-wise as each of her living quarters increased in size. Skagan’s last apartment near Orlando Naval Hospital was a one-bedroom affair with 900-square feet of space. This Long Island apartment was just over 1200-square feet and felt very roomy.
She had advised Kaplan to wear casual attire. She wore black velour slacks, a shiny purple silk blouse, simple jewelry and two-inch wedge sandals for “needed” height. Overall she projected a very feminine and proper appearance. Skagan had only invited one other man to her living space and that was four years ago. He was also a Lieutenant Commander and in the Medical Service Corps assigned to the legal department at Orlando Naval Hospital. She remembered the episode with a shudder.
“Come in John.” She unlocked her door with her key. LCDR John Crane had already been in the apartment once to pick her up for dinner and a play at a local theatre. He had behaved like a gentlemen and although he lacked what she considered a magnetic personality maybe he would be different away from the public eye.
Crane took her invitation for a date as a boost for his already pumped up ego. He boasted to his friends at the BOQ he would be in bed with Skagan within an hour after their dinner date. “You have a wonderful place here Phil. I didn’t really see very much of it when I picked you up last time.”
“Why don’t you sit in the living room while I make some coffee?” She smiled. Compliments disarmed her.
“Coffee? How about after dinner drinks?” Crane still had glassy eyes from drinking at the play and at dinner.
“I do have wine and beer or if you think it won’t interfere with your driving home I have something stronger.” Her doubts about Crane were now fortified. He had already had several scotches too many. The ride to her apartment was a bit erratic and scary.
“Maybe just another scotch–if you have it.”
“Okay.”
She made coffee and gave him a tumbler of scotch-on-the-rocks like he’d ordered earlier in the evening. He drank it down within five minutes and stared at her sitting next to him on the sofa.
“Phil you are one pretty woman and I don’t need any alcohol to say that.” He moved closer.
“Did you enjoy the play John?”
“Faulkner is a bit heavy but it did take me back to my college days. Most of the girls I dated went in for campy stuff like Faulkner.” He reached for her hand. “I had hoped you might have chosen a romantic comedy. The play kind of matched your business-like rapport at work. Can’t you let your hair down outside the hospital?” Crane put his hand on her right shoulder.
“Don’t you think the play projected that there is life to be lived amidst the death and dying? I mean we see the ravages of the Vietnam War every day and our job is to help put people’s lives back together.” She moved away from under his hand.
“You know I haven’t seen the rest of your place. I do need to use the bathroom and then you can show me around.” Crane stood up a little shaky.
“All right follow me. The bathroom is opposite the bedroom.”
Crane emerged from the bathroom after flushing and went directly to the bedroom and sat on the impeccably made bed. “C’mon Phil sit next to me.”
“I think we should go back to the living room John.” She motioned him to stand up.
“Give me your hand so I can get up. Your mattress is a little too soft for me to navigate.” He extended his hand which she took.
Crane smiled and pulled her on top of him trying to plant a kiss on her lips. “Phil, I know there’s a woman inside your stone façade.”
Skagan wriggled free and stood up leaving Crane lying down on the bed with his legs hanging bent at the knee. “John I think it’s time for you to leave.”
LCDR John Crane’s eyes closed and he began snoring. Skagan waited two hours before rousing him to wakefulness. He went again to the bathroom and she escorted him to the door. “Thanks for your company tonight, John. I think it could have turned out better without the scotch.”
Crane reached out again to grab her.
“No. John. Please just leave.” The combination of the tone and loudness in her voice prompted a dark shadow into action.
“Holy Christ! What the hell is this?” Crane felt sharp needle-like pains in his arm and shoulder.
Bork had launched himself from atop a narrow knick-knack cabinet onto Crane’s left shoulder and dug his claws into his neck. The huge dark-furred feline hissed and growled. Crane brought a fist up to knock Bork from his shoulder and Bork sunk his teeth and claws into his knuckled hand.
“Oh my God. What is that?” He fumbled with a handkerchief to stop the bleeding points on his hand.
Skagan reached for Bork. “Down Bork. Down…down…down.”
Bork released his attachment and dropped to a position beside Skagan’s ankles.
“Just go John.” She closed and locked the door after him. How could I have made such a blunder? He seemed genuinely interested in me and in going to the play.
‡
She looked at her watch. Kaplan will be here in five minutes. She went into her bedroom and stood in front of the mirror looking to make last minute adjustments and making none. The tomato sauce had been cooking all day and her place had an inviting homey aroma. I hope I’m not wrong about you Ike Kaplan.
‡
Kaplan had driven around the condo building and found a parking space giving a good visual of the entrance and of other parked cars. He noted no outstanding irregularities and no “live” parkers. He left the car and reflexly reached under his sportcoat to touch his holstered .45 for reassurance. He’d have to take his sport coat off so he put the clip holster containing the .45 into the left inside pocket. It was a tight fit and he’d have to use two hands to get the Colt out. The .45 automatic was not intended for Skagan unless she came at him with a firearm. He really took the Colt in case unexpected muscle showed up.
He stared at the condo entryway doorbell and the letter to Stokely on his apartment dresser appeared in his thoughts for a second. He pressed the doorbell button. The buzzer unlocked the entry door after he stated his name to her softened voice. At room 205 Kaplan pressed the lit condo unit doorbell button. He could sense movement behind the door peep-hole and the oak door opened after he heard the chain lock release.
Skagan opened the door wide and looked at him. “Hello Ike. You look good out of uniform.” She stepped aside to let him in.
“You sound like my uniform is a barrier to civilized interaction.”
She walked bedside him to the comfortable mauve textured two-cushioned sofa. “Our uniforms place us in the world of the U.S. Navy and its book of regulations. You better not call me ma’am in here or when we’re in civvies.” She turned to him. “I’m Phil and never Philomena unless you’re having trouble getting my attention.” She let her hand touch his. “Would you like something to drink while our dinner is in the oven?” The slight dimples in her chin appeared with her natural disarming smile. She took the bottle of wine from his hand.
“Your place smells great. It reminds me of home and my mother’s Sunday cooking.” He maintained the light finger contact. “I’ll start with iced tea if it’s convenient.”
“Tea is available but so are wine, liquor and beer.” She moved toward the kitchen. “What do you mean your mother’s cooking?”
“My mother was Italian. I actually grew up Italian. When my
mother married my father and outside the Catholic faith she was excommunicated but we lived in one of my Italian grandfather’s houses. Every Sunday my mother and I would cook an Italian sauce. We’d start at breakfast time and by two in the afternoon dinner would be ready. Our house smelled like your apartment. It’s wonderful.” He watched her open the refrigerator, put the wine bottle in and extract the pitcher of iced tea. She looked even more attractive in her slacks and blouse than in her Navy nurse uniform.
“My mother was Italian. I knew there was a common thread besides our compulsive work attitude.” She brought a glass of ice water for herself and sat beside him on the sofa. She looked into his face.
Kaplan saw no aggression lurking in her appearance or demeanor. For what purpose have you lured me into your den, my dear? He’d let her lead the conversation and anything else. Or do I have any choice?
“Ike you’re probably wondering why I took the initiative in furthering our relationship?” She sat with her back at the angle of the sofa armrest facing him. “First let me tell you I’m really glad you accepted my invitation for dinner. I want to get to know you better and I want you to see that I’m not all work and U.S. Navy.”
Kaplan turned with his left arm over the top of the sofa back, sipped his iced tea and put it on the coaster on the thick glass-top coffee table. “You realize you’re breaking the officer-enlisted barrier regardless of being in-or-out of uniform.”
“Usually the only difference between officer and enlisted is a college degree. You have a college degree. You carry yourself like an officer Ike. When I order others around they just do what I say without question–like trained pets.”
“I don’t recall doubting your directives Phil.” Phil? It came natural. He had gazed at the living area of her apartment and from his living room perspective he could see no male residue. The place was spit-and-polish clean. The fact that it appeared unthreatening might mean he should be on guard. So why am I starting to relax?
“No. You’re not like other enlisteds. You understand the job and never question how to implement it. Most corpsman will ask the how and sometimes the why. You seem to understand what you’re doing is important and go about your work as if to see what’s going to happen next. You also have a way with others. I’ve seen how you get them to do their job with minimal complaint. You command respect and get it. We’re alike in that Ike.”
“Phil it must be easy to gain access to my personnel file. LT Sparrow knows about my academic background.”
“Dina Sparrow? She’s only a Lieutenant and confined to the nursing element. She should not have had access to your records.” She leaned forward. “I don’t want to know if she’s been forward with you Ike. I might have to take steps to correct the situation as a superior officer.” She sat back and moved forward again. “Did she?”
“Did she what?” Kaplan had caught her off guard but had to smile at her normal female reaction.
“Did she ask if you were available after hours–you know–for discrete social things?”
“I’ll answer that if you promise not to put her on report or have her shot out of a torpedo tube or anything like that.”
Skagan’s serious look changed to a grin. “Oh my. I’m being girlish.” She reached and touched his hand. “Did she?”
“Yes, but I immediately corrected her about the possible consequences.” Kaplan knew what was next.
“But not with me. Why?” Her tone was soft but urgent. It was non-threatening.
“I don’t know. I just wanted to.” Their fingers intertwined just as a bell began ringing from the kitchen.
She stared at him and got up slowly letting their hands release in slow motion. “The manicotti is done. We’ll go into the dining room. I have a salad before the manicotti. It’ll take me a few minutes to set the table with the food.”
Kaplan stood up with her. “I used to do this at home. Can I help? I’d like to.”
She gave a soft, “Yes.”
‡
Halfway through the meal Skagan put down her fork. “I almost forgot. I do have wine if you want–the one you brought and two others. My mother used to serve wine with the pasta dishes.”
“I never developed a taste for wine or any other alcohol beverages. The meal is delicious. Did you make the manicotti from scratch? I usually get the frozen stuff and nowhere near as good.”
“Yes. Although I’m told you can buy the pasta dough in the Bronx at Ganucci’s Italian Grocery on Arthur Ave. If I ever get out there I’ll give it a try.”
Conversation was matched with elements from their mixed Italian upbringing. They shared funny situations and some difficult cultural stories.
“I can’t believe we have so much in common.” Skagan picked up the dishes.
Kaplan jumped up from his chair. “Let me help with the clean-up.”
“I was just going to throw them in the sink while we do desert. But if you want to help after desert and coffee I’m not going to beat you away with a baseball bat.”
Kaplan laughed. He still had his sport coat on and was starting to feel warm. “Let me hang my coat up in the hallway closet. You can get desert.”
The closet was what it was supposed to be–a closet. Could it be that Philomena Skagan was totally not a part of the heroin plaster connection? He began thinking more of Skagan as a woman of his age and like him someone who was selective about seeking companionship.
“Cannolis and coffee. This is a touch of heaven.” Kaplan was beaming. “I haven’t had such a fantastic homey meal in a long time.”
They scraped the dishes and placed them in the dishwasher after a light rinse. They went back to the sofa in the living room and sat close together.
“Now that we know each other a little more Ike I have to ask you a few things.” Skagan seemed more relaxed and more casual. “What are your plans for the future? What do you want after the Navy? You did say the Navy was just consuming your military obligation.”
“Okay. I plan to get into some aspect of the law–maybe law school or even law enforcement.” He threw this at her like a weapon. If she was the enemy he should get a defensive, or maybe an offensive, reaction.
“I’m surprised you didn’t say medical school. After all you’ve been working with acute and chronic patients for well over a year.” Skagan let her hand fall on top of his.
“My major in college was psychology and criminal behavior. I consider my medical training as an asset to further understanding people.”
She softened, “I’m so glad you don’t see your military service as a waste of your lifetime. So many soldiers and military draftees do.” She gave his hand a squeeze.
“And what about you? Do you plan to be an Admiral in the Nursing Corps?” Kaplan felt a slight relief. She may not be a part of the drug conspiracy or she may be an outstanding criminal with superior acting talent.
“I don’t think I’d ever make even Captain rank. I step on too many people’s toes. I think now that the war is over I’ll transition into civilian nursing. I was thinking of getting a Master’s degree in hospital administration and one day maybe becoming a hospital administrator. I seem to be good at working with people in difficult situations.”
“You mean like the plaster cast disposal mission?”
She laughed. “You make it sound like a ridiculous situation but you should have seen some of those terminal cases of meliodosis from pseudomonas infection after inhaling plaster dust. I was in charge of an entire ward of these poor guys. The ones who survived will be pulmonary cripples for life.”
“I didn’t mean to belittle the operation. I can see how attention to details is mandatory. When I first met those civilian plaster disposal street thugs I wondered if we weren’t setting up civilians for getting the disease. I mean who polices those guys? We don’t know what they do with the cast material.” Let’s see how she handles that.
“I do wonder about that. I say prayers that those plaster contaminated bags get incinerated per our Navy protoc
ol.” She looked at her watch. “My goodness it’s almost 12-o’clock.”
They stood up and were just inches apart. “Phil I really enjoyed myself and I’m glad my instincts to come here were correct. You’re a wonderful person and I wouldn’t want things to end here for us. What do we do at work?”
“At work it’s ma’am and not Phil.”
Kaplan smiled. “That’s not fair. You’ve been calling me Ike in the hospital for months now.”
Suddenly Kaplan felt like they were being watched. Someone else was here. He looked around.
“What’s the matter Ike?” Skagan followed his darting eyes.
Kaplan wanted his .45 in his hand. His instincts were not usually wrong. Then he felt it and saw the eyes at his knee. “Oh my God! What is that?”
Bork was rubbing his head against Kaplan’s legs.
Skagan laughed. “I thought he was in his crate. Well, this is amazing. Bork is usually wary of strangers and attacks them.”
“Bork? What is Bork?” Kaplan was still frozen in place.
“He’s my roommate. Bork is a Maine Coon cat. He hates strangers–usually. I take this as a good omen. He’s purring. Go ahead scratch his head.”
“He’s as big as the Australian Collie I had when I was a kid.” Kaplan bent his knees and slowly touched Bork’s furry head and let him smell his hand. Bork then climbed up Kaplan’s leg to his beltline purring like a cement mixer. Kaplan scratched Bork’s head and behind his ears. “Does he have any claws? He walked up my leg with his front paws and I didn’t feel anything.”
“Bork has everything but testicles. He likes you.” She reached for Kaplan’s hand. “And so do I.”
She walked him to the door with Bork at her heels. “I’ll get your jacket.”
Kaplan immediately moved ahead and retrieved his sport coat which he held with his left hand. He faced Skagan at the doorway. “There’s one thing we definably can’t do in the hospital Phil.”
“What?” She moved into his embrace.
They kissed as if it was a natural thing, something they had been used to. When they separated she rested her head against his shoulder. “We have to have a next time Ike.”
THE HAPPY HAT Page 12