15

She liked visiting Georgia with Daniel. Gina had worried her speech would freeze, worried Daniel’s family would ask questions about their relationship she wasn’t prepared to handle, worried the security that traveled with them would be too intrusive—all of that along with bracing for the possibility that Daniel would propose. It had been a lot of baggage to carry with her. But the final day in Georgia, Gina woke up without the pressure of any of it.

She was staying at his youngest sister’s home in a guest room that was comfortable and spacious, much nicer than a hotel. Daniel wasn’t going to propose today. He might very well have on his sister’s porch last night, but he wouldn’t ask hours before they boarded a flight back to Washington State. She was glad he hadn’t, even as she was more certain than ever that if he did, she should seriously consider saying yes.

She loved his family. From his mom, Janine, to his uncle Solomon, to cousins so numerous she couldn’t remember all their names. Daniel had brought her here with a clear purpose in mind. He had wanted to see how she interacted with his family, if his family liked her, and she was passing his unspoken test. She knew she was getting high marks. Even his mother had turned from gracious hostess to teasing mom with her. She’d seen Daniel relax as the days had passed.

Daniel would be waiting for her when she appeared for breakfast. She dressed with care and straightened up the guest room, repacked her luggage, then walked through the house to the kitchen. Daniel was turning pancakes. He grinned as she appeared. “Nice shirt.”

She spun in a circle, modeling the shirt with the photo of his high school band on it, from a boxed collection found in the attic. She’d discovered all kinds of interesting stuff when his sisters began talking about Daniel and his youth. His sisters were the good kinds of friends to make—interesting, quick to laugh, and genuine. Gina picked up an orange from the bowl and absently peeled it while she watched Daniel fix breakfast.

Daniel slid a plate over with the first of the pancakes on it. “Go ahead and eat while they’re hot. What would you like to do for our last morning?”

She sat down, segmented the orange, and offered him a slice. “How about another game of checkers with your dad? And I need a couple of recipes from your mom to take back with me.”

“Easy enough. I’d also like us to fit in a walk—we’ll ditch family for a few minutes. The flight is at 2:30, so we’ll leave my parents’ place about noon.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Gina agreed, cutting into the stack of pancakes.

“Your brother called this morning.”

“Oh? What’s going on?”

“I’m to tell you, when you’re sitting down, that Bishop got injured during a flood drill and broke two fingers in his left hand.”

She carefully put down her fork.

“A nub—new-to-the-boat sailor—misjudged a pipe repair, and Bishop stopped him from taking a blow to the head that would have put the kid down with a severe concussion. They were installing a casing pipe. Think inch-thick steel, four feet long—something not easy to stop once it’s in motion.”

“Command of the Nevada is Mark’s dream job,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Will this injury cause problems with his ability to take Nevada gold to sea the first of September?”

Daniel shook his head. “Beyond the fact he’ll have to live with Tylenol in its strongest form, it shouldn’t. Medical will clear him before then.”

“What am I supposed to do when I see him? Say ‘ouch’ and never mention it again? What’s the correct way to handle a submariner getting hurt?”

“With Bishop,” Daniel laughed, “bake the guy some cupcakes and tell him ‘good job.’ He’s not going to mind a couple of broken fingers compared to having to tell some 20-year-old’s parents their son is in intensive care with a fractured skull.”

“Okay. How many bones have you broken, Daniel?”

“Hmm, five.” He rubbed his ribs as he turned the pancakes. “Can’t say the last was one I’d like to repeat, but the rest were kid injuries from learning how bikes can flip, skateboards can crash, and stairs are not for jumping down from one landing to the next.”

She smiled. “I’m relieved that’s all, given the stories I heard from your sisters.”

“I considered it my duty as the only son to prove girls fragile and guys tough. They used to squeal at the worms and spiders I introduced them to, and let’s not mention the snakes. Mom made me behave, but if I didn’t push back a bit, my sisters would have had me dressed up in preppy clothes with the sleeves of a sweater dangling over my shoulders.”

Gina laughed and pushed the pancake syrup toward him as he sat down with his own plate. “It’s the stories that make the best memories.”

“You’ve heard a few of them. It would take decades to tell all of them, the way my sisters embellish history.”

“I like your family, Daniel.”

“I’m glad. They liked you too. I never heard Solomon say so many words in one conversation before.”

“I’d love it if you could snap a family photo for me before we leave, something I could have on my phone.” She already had numerous photos of their Georgia stay on her phone, but none was a group photo.

“I can do that,” Daniel agreed.

Bishop half listened to the instructions his XO was giving the sailors clustered around the table to his left while he scanned the TRIPER report. Nevada gold would have eight new sailors joining this patrol. Preparing men for what gold crew expected during a deployment began long before the boat pushed away from the pier.

Blue crew would bring the Nevada back into port next week. Gina was due back in town tonight. Bishop forced himself to ignore that second thought and focus on what he was reading. The TRIPER list of equipment scheduled to be pulled out and replaced with refurbished parts ran for pages. This 25-day refit—maintenance and resupply—was going to be unusually aggressive. He hoped Nevada blue reported in with no missile problems to sort out. It wouldn’t take much to push the work schedule into missing their September 1st patrol date. It never looked good—for the crew or captain or onshore maintenance—when a boat had to shift a scheduled departure date back.

Water dripped from the ice pack balanced on his left hand, and he hissed his annoyance as the ice numbed his little finger. Having his two middle fingers taped together with a splint was bad enough. Having his little finger also ache added further insult to his discomfort.

Someone knocked on the door as he was tearing off a paper towel from a roll he’d stuck in a desk drawer.

“I thought you’d be halfway to Seattle by now,” Bishop commented as Jeff took a seat across from him.

“I got their flight time wrong—they came in earlier. Should I give you the good news or bad?”

“Depends on your read of my mood.”

“There wasn’t a ring on Gina’s left hand when she got off the plane.”

Bishop felt an intense layer of relief. “The bad news?”

“I’d say my sister is falling in love. She looks very comfortable with Daniel and is starting to tease him. It’s noticeable, the shift. Sorry, man.”

“Yeah.” Bishop pushed aside the report and tugged out more paper towels.

“You want to come get fussed over by Tiffany? We’re meeting to share a pizza.”

“No. Go away, friend.”

Jeff tapped his fist on the desk. “Still no ring. Remember that.”

It wasn’t much comfort. Bishop carefully flexed his little finger. It just meant he’d get another few weeks of misery, followed by a patrol and news when he got home that Gina was engaged. Or married.

The front doorbell rang. Mark muted the ball game and leveraged himself out of his favorite leather chair. When he opened the door, he wasn’t that surprised at his visitor. He stood for a moment absorbing the fact that part of a week with a lot of sun had brought a few freckles out on her nose and turned her skin a rich tan. He pushed open the screen door. “Hello, Gina.”

“Sorry about your hand.”

It was throbbing in time with his heartbeat. “So am I.”

She was carrying a cardboard box. “I’m supposed to give you these, but rather than hand them to you, I think I’ll just put them in your kitchen.” She headed through the house.

Bishop decided he might as well follow. “What did you bring me?”

“Cupcakes.”

She lifted the lid, and he saw each cupcake iced with a letter. Good Job, Mark.

“Who ate cupcake 12 from my dozen?” he asked, curious.

“Trust you to notice. I sampled the one that didn’t get a letter. They’re good.”

He took an o as it had the most icing. “You can have another one,” he generously offered. He pulled out a chair and took a seat at the kitchen table, carefully peeling back the paper from the cupcake. “Did you stop by to tell me you’re getting married?”

“You’re in an interesting mood.”

“I am.”

She walked past him and ruffled his hair. The move so surprised him, he nearly dropped the cupcake.

She pulled milk out of his refrigerator, got a glass from a cupboard, raised it with a question in her eyes. When he shook his head, she poured milk for herself. “Daniel has a good family. I enjoyed getting to meet them.” She settled into a seat across from him. “I hate to fly. Every time I go up I’m convinced the laws of aerodynamics don’t make sense and we’re going to fall out of the sky and go splat.”

He smiled at her word choice, eyed her cautiously, and began eating his cupcake.

“What were you thinking when you grabbed that pipe?” she asked.

“I was reaching for the guy who was about to get hit by the pipe. The casing was supposed to hit the hull rather than the hull and me.” He looked at his injured left hand. “Broke the bones above the first joint. It’s going to be a long eight weeks wearing the brace, but they’ll heal.”

“I’m glad.”

She reached for a cupcake, choosing the k. “Daniel offered to give me some time to think about things. He wants to propose if I would like him to do so. One of those agreements where he won’t ask unless I want to say yes, so I don’t have to turn him down.”

Bishop nodded. “What are you thinking?”

“That I need to go work on something else. The solar flares. Satellite drift. I need to get away from Bangor for a while.”

“Thomas Keller at the Jet Propulsion Lab is waiting on your call. You want me to escort you to Pasadena, get you settled in with a new research group?”

“I can work remotely with JPL while I get up to speed on the sun research being done. I don’t have the energy left for new people and feeling out the dynamics of another research group right now.”

“Chicago?”

“I think so. It’s home. It’s where I can cocoon for a while.”

“Then let me get you there.”

“That’s why I came by. You said you were flying to Chicago on the seventh to see your brother Bryce and meet his wife, Charlotte. I’d like to travel with you, if you don’t mind my white knuckles.”

“I don’t mind.”

She studied his bandaged hand. “You aren’t going to fuss at me when I carry my own luggage, are you?”

“I might let you carry part of mine,” Bishop replied, considering his hand.

A comfortable silence settled over the kitchen. “Change your mind about some milk?” Gina offered.

“Sure.”

She poured him a glass and refilled hers.

“You had a good time in Georgia?”

She pulled out her phone, opened the photos folder, and handed it to him. Mark slowly tabbed through. He stopped, shot her a surprised look. “He had you up on water skis?”

“For a full 20 seconds I was upright.”

“What did you think?”

“Before or after my heart tried to jump out of my chest? I understand now why people would consider it a thrill. I let his sisters talk me into trying. Daniel tried to veto the idea. I should have listened to him, because I’ll never do it again.”

Mark moved through the rest of the photos. He stopped on one, closed his eyes for a brief moment, then handed the phone back. She’d been sitting with Daniel on a porch swing, the photo probably snapped by one of his sisters. Daniel had a coiled strand of her hair around his finger, was looking at her, and it was a lover’s look. “He’s a good man,” Mark said, his voice sounding heavy in his own ears.

“Yes,” Gina replied softly.

“You could do worse. A lot worse.”

“I know.” She looked over at him.

He wanted to add that she could do better, that she was looking at better, but he was no longer sure.

She pushed back her chair. “I’m leaving before I eat a third cupcake. Jeff said he could give us a lift to the airport.”

Mark rose to walk with her to the front door. “It’s a plan.”

“Take care of yourself, Mark.”

“I will,” he promised. He watched her through the screen door as she walked to the car, where security was waiting, and turned away when she was gone. Whatever came, he was going to handle it with some grace. He owed them both that.