Point of Departure

by Lindsay McKenna

  Wearily, Callie looked up at him through her lashes. “Thanks…Normally, I’m not so helpless.”

  After snapping on his own seat belt, Ty guided the car out of the parking lot. “There are times when you need to lean on someone else,” he told her quietly. But hadn’t his ex-wife, Jackie, accused him of never being there for her, that she’d never had him to lean on when she desperately wanted his support? After a hellish year of living through their painful divorce, Ty had had to face facts: he wasn’t very good husband material. Maybe now, in some small way, he might atone for his failure to be there for Jackie by being here for Callie Donovan.

  It took less than ten minutes to get to the dispensary, which sat near the Top Gun facility at the station. As Ty helped Callie from the car, he noticed how pale she was.

  “Let me walk,” she pleaded. “Don’t carry me in. It’s too embarrassing.”

  He shut the car door and tried to smile. “So, knights on white horses are dead, are they?”

  Callie stood in the circle of his right arm, his hand around her waist. Ty was tall compared to her five-foot-five-inch frame. She could see a wry quality in his gray eyes, darkly shadowed by some unknown emotion, and she heard self-mockery in his husky voice. Despite her own shock, she sensed that he, too, bore emotional wounds from his past. “You were a knight,” she whispered. “You rescued me. I thought I was going to be raped by them. I didn’t expect to get help. Not here. Not these days….”

  Her words chilled Ty to the bone. He nodded and gently nudged her to begin making her slow, limping way to the dispensary door. “Remington’s a bastard, but I don’t think he’d rape you. He was drunk.”

  Callie shot him a look. “Drunk or not, that’s no excuse for them attacking me.”

  The quaver of real fury in her voice stirred Ty. “I’m not defending them,” he said softly. “What they did was wrong.”

  The bright lights momentarily blinded Callie. She didn’t really want to be here. She wanted to curl up at home, left alone to nurse her wounds. After all, that’s what she’d always done—take care of herself by herself. Now here was Ballard, solicitous and sensitive to her needs, and she had no idea how to react to him. Long ago, she’d lumped navy pilots under one simple description: arrogant, insensitive, egotistical and selfish. And no man had forced her to challenge that characterization—until now. As she limped down the green-and-white-tiled passageway toward the nursing station, Callie tried to grip the torn edges of her blouse with her hand, embarrassed by how she must look to the corpswaves and nurses.

  The nurse on duty took her name and wrote everything down. Then she led her to a cubicle formed from three white sheets, where, with Ballard’s help, Callie was able to sit up on the gurney to await the arrival of the doctor on duty. This close to Ballard, she couldn’t escape the anger banked in his eyes, and she wondered who it was for. Her? Or the pilots? She knew from painful experience that pilots stuck together, bonded tighter than glue under any perceived attack by an outsider.

  Still, if Ballard was angry with her, or blaming her for what had happened, why was he still here with her? Moistening her lips, Callie glanced at him, standing stoically beside the gurney.

  “You don’t have to stay, Commander. I’ll be okay now,” she managed to say, her heart squeezing oddly in her chest. She had to pull herself together!

  Ty raised his head and settled his gaze on Callie. “How will you get back to your car?” Beneath the fluorescent lights overhead, she looked very pale, her skin appearing translucent under the harsh glare. Her hair was in disarray, and Ty suddenly was seized with the most maddening urge to gently tunnel his fingers through that black, shiny mass and tame it all back into order. The impulse was as crazy as it was unexpected, and Ty jammed his hands deep into his pockets. Although Callie was an officer, she didn’t have that outer toughness so many of the women seemed to wear as armor in the male-dominated military world.

  Callie inwardly railed at Ty’s response. He could have said “I want to stay because you need help.” No, he was only concerned with his responsibility to get her back to her car. Now that the incident had passed, no doubt he’d take the side of Remington and his brother pilots. Trying to stop the aching hurt in her chest, she merely nodded and looked away. But why should she be hurt or affected by this man? Her emotions in utter disarray, Callie had no easy answers.

  “Hi,” a tall woman in her forties said, pushing aside one of the sheet dividers, “I’m Dr. Rose Lipinski, duty physician. Looks like you took a few bumps and bruises, Lieutenant Donovan.”

  Callie was thankful the doctor was a woman. A part of her relaxed as the redheaded Dr. Lipinski came forward to examine her. The doctor was lean as a rail, but her green eyes sparkled with warmth.

  “I guess I do look a little beat up,” she said, automatically reaching to shake hands with the doctor. At the sight of her bloody, lacerated palm, she gave the doctor an apologetic look and pulled it back.

  Lipinski smiled understandingly. “What happened, Ms. Donovan?” she asked, as she gently began to examine Callie’s hands, knees and the swollen right ankle.

  “I was accosted in the O Club parking lot,” Callie whispered, her throat suddenly closing with tears. Embarrassed, she raised her hand to wipe the threatening moisture from her eyes. She saw Dr. Lipinski’s own eyes narrow speculatively as she continued her examination.

  “Attacked,” Ballard growled.

  The doctor stopped her examination, twisted to look over her shoulder and studied him in silence. “Really? And who are you?”

  “Ty Ballard.”

  “Oh, yes, I’ve heard of you…. Top Gun, right?”

  “Yes, an instructor.”

  “Did you see Ms. Donovan being attacked, Commander?”

  Ty nodded. “I was walking to my car after a beer at the O Club when I heard her scream.”

  “I see.” Rose studied Callie’s drawn features. “You know the man who did this to you?”

  “Men,” Ty corrected grimly, moving within a foot of the two women. “Three men.”

  The doctor’s thin brows drew downward with censure. She turned and picked up some gauze from the nearby sink and methodically began to clean Callie’s hands and knees. “Can you identify them?” she asked quietly.

  Callie nodded. “Yes.” She shrugged. “One is my boss, Lieutenant Commander Remington. The other two are Top Gun students.”

  “Lieutenants Thorson and Oakley,” Ty provided darkly. “Both are TAD fighter pilots from the Enterprise. They’re at the top of their class so far, fighting it out for first place.” He scowled. “They’ve got real killer instincts.”

  Callie felt a chill run through her. “That’s a good description of them,” she choked out.

  “Oh?” Dr. Lipinski swabbed Callie’s palms with an antiseptic that stained her skin an orange color. “And how would you describe them, Ms. Donovan?”

  Suddenly uncomfortable at the tension in the doctor’s voice, Callie murmured, “Drunk, arrogant and violent.”

  “I see….” Dr. Lipinski carefully examined the swollen ankle. “Looks like a good sprain, Ms. Donovan. Does it hurt if I turn it this way? That?”

  Callie withstood the jagged pain as the other woman gently moved the ankle in every conceivable direction. She was trying to be a good patient, but between Ballard’s angry intensity and Lipinski’s bird doglike snooping, she longed to escape.

  “So,” the doctor continued in a low voice as she wrapped Callie’s ankle in an Ace bandage, “you saw the whole thing, Commander?”

  Ty shrugged. “I saw part of it, Doc.”

  “Were they all drunk?” she asked.

  “Yes, they were. I could smell the liquor on their breath.”

  “Boys will be boys, eh?” the doctor murmured, her frown deepening. As she finished wrapping Callie’s ankle, she smiled up at her. “I want you to tell me what happened from beginning to end, Ms. Donovan. I’ll need the information for my report.” She reached over to the counter and
picked up a metal clipboard and pen.

  Shifting uncomfortably on the gurney, Callie said, “I don’t think this is necessary, Doctor. All I want to do is go home and rest. I’m very tired. Exhausted, if you want the truth.”

  “I understand,” Dr. Lipinski said soothingly as she rested her hip against the gurney. “But this is a serious offense, and I’ve got to report it.”

  Callie’s mouth dropped open, and she stared at the grim-faced doctor, whose pen was poised above the form. “What do you mean, report it?”

  “Lieutenant, at the least, you’ve been sexually harassed. At worst, the shore-patrol officials would say you’ve been assaulted. Now, I’m legally bound to report this kind of thing. If I don’t, I’m in hot water. Besides, these pilots think they’re a gift to women and I’m sick and tired of seeing these kinds of cases come through my doors. It’s time that it stopped.”

  Her heart pounding, Callie stammered, “B-but I don’t want this reported! Doctor, I have a career to think about. It was my boss that did this to me! I’m up for an early promotion to lieutenant commander, and I don’t want to lose it. You can’t report this!”

  Lipinski’s lean face softened slightly. “I’m sorry, Ms. Donovan. I have to do my duty, and you, more than most, should understand that. I have to note your injuries, the fact that your blouse has been torn. I have to provide a written report of your abrasions and the presence of several red marks on your chest between your breasts from their groping.” She shook her head adamantly. “Believe me, this is best.”

  “For who?” Callie cried, her voice cracking. Wildly, she looked to Ballard for support. He stood, dark faced, his arms folded tightly across his chest, his eyes filled with anger. Probably at her—or the doctor? She wasn’t sure which.

  “For you,” Lipinski said calmly, beginning to fill out the form. “And for every woman on or off this station who is sexually harassed by men who think they can keep getting away with it. Well, they can’t.”

  Panic spread through Callie and she gripped the doctor’s arm. “Please, you can’t do this! I don’t want to press charges against them! I just want to drop it and let it go. My career is more important to me than this!”

  Dr. Lipinski lifted her chin, her eyes assessing. “Lieutenant, it isn’t a matter of whether you want to press charges or not. I’m bound by law to report this to the shore patrol and the legal department. And I’m tired of seeing women coming in here too frightened to testify before either a civil court or a navy board of investigation. Don’t worry, you’ll have me as a corroborating witness.”

  “That isn’t going to help me and you know it!” Callie rasped. “My career will be ruined! The navy will slot me into some dead-end job and then force me to resign. I’ve seen it done too many times. You can’t do this to me, Dr. Lipinski!”

  Ty moved forward, his hand coming to rest on Callie’s tense shoulder. “The doctor doesn’t have a choice, Callie,” he offered, trying to soothe her.

  Angrily, Callie shrugged his hand off her shoulder. Filled with a fear that made her more vocal than usual, she insisted, “Commander, that’s easy for you to say. You’re a man in a man’s world.”

  Ty retreated, realizing that Callie was right. He saw the tears in her luminous eyes and wanted somehow to comfort her. But there was no comfort. “I can’t deny it,” he murmured apologetically.

  “You’ll see the wisdom of this,” the doctor said gently, “after you get over the shock of being attacked, Ms. Donovan. Right now your senses are heightened, along with your feelings. I understand your concerns, but if women don’t stand up and fight back, more women are going to be hurt. Do you want that?”

  Breathing hard, Callie wiped the tears from her cheeks. “My sister Maggie is just like you,” she answered angrily. “But I’m not like her, and I’m not like you! If this gets reported, my career is gone! Finished!”

  “Lieutenant Maggie Donovan has been very influential,” Lipinski murmured, continuing to fill out the forms. “I admire her very much. She’s done a lot to help women in the military be seen as equals.”

  Callie felt the doctor’s gaze, felt the accusation in her voice at Callie’s weak stance. Well, that was too bad, because she didn’t have Maggie’s guts. All her early confidence had been taken from her back in her plebe year at Annapolis. Once she’d been the kind of fighter that her sisters were, but she wasn’t anymore. She’d learned the hard way. It didn’t pay to fight back.

  Bitterly, she sat, quietly answering the doctor’s pointed, specific questions, hands clasped tightly in her lap. Callie thought the inquisition would never end. Finally, forty-five minutes later, Dr. Lipinski released her.

  “I’ll take you home,” Ty volunteered. With her right ankle injured, she wouldn’t be able to drive her car.

  “Good idea,” Dr. Lipinski agreed. “I’m issuing you a pair of crutches for the next two weeks, Ms. Donovan. Commander, perhaps you’d be kind enough to go down to Supply, on the right, and pick them up for her?”

  “Of course,” Ty said, and he left with the chit authorizing the crutches.

  Callie remained on the gurney, feeling very much alone in a way she had hoped never to experience again. Dr. Lipinski had given her a mild sedative to take tonight in case she couldn’t sleep. Stuffing the pills into her purse, Callie squeezed her eyes shut in the silence of the now-deserted examination room. How could this have happened? It was her fault. Somehow, it must be her fault. Had she dressed too provocatively, bringing on Remington’s unwanted attention?

  Burying her face in her hands, Callie tried to get a grip on her roiling feelings. If Dr. Lipinski turned in that report, her career was as good as dead. She had no other training. There were no intelligence jobs in the civilian world. It was all she knew. Job security meant everything to Callie—much more than it did to her three sisters. They moved through life with a freedom that she envied. But then, her freedom had been taken from her long ago.

  Feeling like a trapped animal, Callie slowly eased off the gurney. As torn up as she felt, she needed Ballard’s company on the way home. A part of her wanted his continued support, even as another part—the part that distrusted men—wondered what his ulterior motives were. Ballard was a Top Gun—he was an instructor at the station. Someone like him didn’t get that plum assignment unless he was the very best at what he did—aggressive, arrogant and selfish.

  No, Ty Ballard was a pilot—and she’d be wise to remember it.

  Chapter Three

  “For whatever it’s worth,” Ty said as he drove the car off the station, the darkness surrounding them, “I’m sorry about what Remington and those two other pilots did to you.”

  Callie sat tensely in Ballard’s car. She’d been silent since leaving the dispensary. Wearily now she said, “You don’t need to apologize. It’s not your fault.”

  His mouth barely pulled into a one-cornered smile. “In a way, it is.”

  Callie stared at his rugged profile for a moment. There seemed to be a vulnerability about him, although it was carefully closeted, and that appealed to her.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Well, before I got married, I caroused around a lot, too. I spent plenty of weekends drunk at the O Club, chasing the groupies.” Ty shrugged and avoided her wide, intelligent gaze. “I don’t believe that you teased Remington into following you out into the parking lot. From what you said to the doc, he was upset about that newspaper article and taking it out on you.”

  His apology, his insight, startled Callie. “I can’t believe any navy pilot has the guts to admit he might have been wrong in chasing groupies. Most of those girls are eighteen and nineteen years old and don’t know what they’re getting into. The navy pilots at the O Club own that turf, and they see them as little more than property to be squabbled over.” Bitterness hardened her words. “You’re a surprise, Commander. I’ve been in the navy since I was eighteen, and I’ve never heard a man display those feelings.”

  With a teasing smil
e, Ty said, “Hey, we’re not all bastards, you know.” He desperately wanted to make her smile, but she had such an abandoned look that he felt helpless. When she didn’t respond to his comment, he sighed. “I…I guess I never really realized until just now that the pilots play rough with a woman—whether she’s asking for it or not. It makes me feel guilty.”

  “Then I guess that’s one good thing that will come out of this mess,” she muttered, “if one navy pilot sees that his chasing, his harassment of women, is wrong.” Misery settled around Callie. Ty Ballard piqued her interest, but the threat of losing her career kept intruding on her emotions.

  “I can’t argue with you,” he said, feeling bad for Callie. Streetlights flooded the car with cyclical regularity as Ty guided his sports car into the La Mesa area, where Callie had told him her apartment was. Finally, he pulled into the parking lot and shut off the engine. Her two-story apartment building was covered in stucco, of Spanish design with a red tile roof. Several palms lined the small, well-groomed lawn in front of the building.

  “Let me help you to your apartment,” he offered, turning toward her.

  “No, you’ve done enough, Commander. You’ve more than done your duty.”

  Ty accepted her mutinous and accusing look. As he opened the door to get out, he murmured, “You’ve got every right to be upset. Use me for target practice. But I’m helping you to your apartment, no arguments.”

  Frustrated, Callie felt on the verge of crying in earnest. She couldn’t fight Ballard’s continued perceptiveness and solicitude. Was it just an act for her benefit? She’d never met anyone like him—a man who had so much awareness of other people’s feelings. Most navy pilots were so egocentric that they existed in a very lofty, private world—a pilot fraternity they viewed as a close-knit brotherhood. Even family came second. Callie knew that divorces were the norm for navy pilots, and they frequently married two, even three times.

  As Ballard opened her car door, she pulled the crutches from the backseat and fumbled with them. He stood back patiently, allowing her the time she needed to maneuver herself and the crutches out of the car.