“Your friend, Gwyn, is in good hands, Trudy.” Nick reached for the platter, unsure of what to expect for breakfast. Mackerel? And snorkers, for God’s sake? What the hell were snorkers, and while he was on the subject, what in bloody hell was blood pudding? It sounded more like something served at a satanic ritual than breakfast in a wardroom. Never mind. Nick swore he’d do whatever they asked without complaint—except eat fish. He hadn’t eaten it since he was a kid and he wasn’t about to start now.
“She’s working with a classmate of mine. Philip Johnston is the new Chief Engineer on board New York so Gwyn is his assistant. Philip is one of the best engineers, and one of the nicest guys, in our Navy. I was thrilled to hear he’d be transferring in because he’s an officer you could trust with your life—and your ship.”
“Well, it’s good to know that Gwyn is working with such a stellar bloke.” Trudy glared at Simon, then took a healthy serving of scrambled eggs and blood pudding.
“Philip’s returning to sea duty after a couple of years. He was wounded in the USS Blanchard bombing.” Conversation at the table ceased. All eyes turned toward Nick.
“How awful,” said Doc. “But of course, it was their engineering spaces that were hit.”
Nick heard Trudy mutter, “Bloody terrorists,” under her breath, which endeared her to him all the more.
“Philip suffered a head injury. He spent almost two years ashore recuperating and then he had to prove he was physically fit before they’d clear him to go back to sea. He’s doing fine now, but he can’t seem to get out from under a certain shadow.” Nick chuckled.
“And what would that be, Yank?” Trudy seemed to take a certain pleasure in pissing him off by referring to him as Yank.
“He’s pretty much known as Mr. Hallie McCabe since he married the ‘McHero’ from the Blanchard.”
“Shit a brick! Sorry, Captain,” Trudy said automatically. “Gwynny’s boss is married to the McHero? So you know her?”
The other officers murmured to each other as if Nick had attained rock star status. He sensed a newfound respect in Trudy’s eyes. “I do. As a matter of fact, I was a groomsman in their wedding.”
“Get outta here,” Trudy said.
“Philip and I go way back. We met at the Naval Academy when we were Plebes: Philip, Sky, and me. Sky’s our other buddy. He’s the funny one. Sky’s his call sign. Well, actually it’s “Skylark” because at Annapolis—”
“He was repeatedly written up for skylarking?” Trudy guessed.
“How did you know?”
“Because I received my share of demerits for daydreaming at Dartmouth as well. Took many a bollocking for that offense.”
“Language, Trudy,” the Captain reminded her.
“Aye, sir.”
Nick continued, “We call ourselves the Highwaymen, after a dubious night of drinking illicit beers under a highway when we were Plebes.”
Trudy’s face lit up. “Lying in wait like vagabonds and cutthroats?”
“Yup. We snuck over the Academy wall, got someone to buy us beer, and when it started raining, we hunkered down under the overpass in our wet uniforms. God, we were pathetic, smelling like wet dogs in those wool coats.” Trudy laughed along with him, her eyes sparkling. The rest of the wardroom seemed to disappear and it was just the two of them, gazing into each other’s smiling eyes.
“That’s a lovely story, Yank. And you’re still mates?”
“We are. We made a pact that night. We’d always have each other’s backs and walk down the aisle at each other’s weddings, that kind of thing.” His heart did a little tap dance when he remembered his wedding wasn’t going to happen, but he hit delete and continued.
“Then we sealed it with a spit handshake and that was that. We’ve kept up with each other, despite deploying all over the world. Sky chose aviation so you’d think he’d hang with a different crowd, but small world. My little brother, Mike, ended up flying with him. We made Mike an honorary Highwayman when he came to Annapolis. And Philip is the most honorable of all of us, so trust me, Sub-Lieutenant, your friend, Gwyn, is in good hands on board New York.”
* * *
As she puttered around the engine room that day, Trudy found herself pulled back into the tale about the Yank and his mates. He’d been so serious ever since his arrival; she couldn’t believe he’d ever broken the rules. She hadn’t been sure the bloke even knew how to smile until he’d shared his story at breakfast.
And then, something magical had happened. It was as if the rest of the mess had disappeared, leaving her and the Yank behind. His warm, brown eyes had sucked her into their depths. What was wrong with her? Trudy didn’t get sucked into the depths of men’s eyes. That was for girly-girls in a romance novel. Not for the likes of Trudy Ashcroft.
But the Yank obviously had a sense of humor and a presence if he could entertain the entire wardroom with that story. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad working for him. After all, it wasn’t his fault the Captain hadn’t allowed Trudy to assume the secondary engineering position with only three years in the fleet. And the Yank was hot. And apparently calling him the Yank wasn’t bothering him the way she’d originally intended.
On top of all that, Trudy would bet her next month’s pay he hadn’t been off to take a piss yesterday after she’d tripped and practically fallen into his arms. They’d only been inches apart. Electricity had crackled between them, as if they’d been pulled together by a magnetic force. And just as strongly, she’d sensed his constraint when he’d turned abruptly on his heel and left the space, right in the middle of meeting the stokers.
And there was the Yank now, checking the gauge on the Hydrolux as it chugged away. He was oblivious to her presence—or pretending to be oblivious if Trudy had anything to say about it. She wandered over and parked herself on the edge of the counter holding the monitors. “That was quite a story you told at breakfast, Yank.”
A smile crinkled the corners of his eyes before he looked back at the gauges. “Surely you pulled some stunts at Dartmouth.”
“We did. There was this one time, a bunch of us girls got hacked off at one of the civilian security guards. He would go out of his way to write us up for breaking rules. It was bad enough for the senior midshipmen to put us on report, but there was no excuse for this bloody civilian to bust us. So one night when he came on rounds of our barracks, he turned down our passageway and was greeted by eight naked women.”
The Yank’s eyes flew to hers. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope, we were completely starkers. We’d wrapped our hair in towels and our faces were covered with camouflage paint. We figured his brain would be too scrambled trying to process sixteen bare breasts and eight naked bums to even consider identifying us.”
The Yank burst out laughing. “Pretty smart there, Trudy. I bet he was in such a state of shock he couldn’t think straight.”
What gentle, brown eyes the man had when he relaxed and didn’t take life quite so seriously.
“By the time he stumbled through us and fumbled for his mobile, we’d disbanded and that camo paint came off but quick. The poor man asked for a transfer the next day, so we had no more trouble from him.”
Suddenly they were a wee bit too close. Too intimate. The engine room fell away and it was just the two of them. Just as it had been at the wardroom table when he’d told his tale of midshipmen misbehavior. A ship’s Klaxon blared in her brain. She pulled her gaze away from him. “I was surprised he didn’t identify me by my height. My nickname at Dartmouth was Maizie. Short for ‘Amazon.’”
“Ouch. Was that a problem for you?” the Yank asked.
Trudy turned back to him. “Nah. I am what I am, Yank.” She felt herself falling under his spell again. She was supposed to be miffed at him for taking her job. He held her gaze a moment longer than necessary before he looked back at the gauge. And she knew.
He’d looked away just in time before he fell under her spell, too.
* * *
“And the princess slayed the giant and they all lived happily ever after.” Helen tucked the blanket around Jeremy’s chin in an empty cabin, kissed him on the forehead, then kissed his stuffed dog, Bongo. “Now you sleep well, my dear. Only good dreams tonight.”
“Will you stay with me, Granny Helen?” the boy asked.
Helen found Jeremy’s lisp endearing, what with his top front teeth missing. “I can’t, sweetheart. I’m off to check on the others. But don’t worry, Miss Kelly is here.” Helen glanced up to see the flight attendant with her back to the door. Kelly had served United Airlines proudly for twenty-two years. And she had somehow managed to keep her dark blue uniform crisp and wrinkle-free ever since 9/11. Gracious, but Helen could not understand how the woman could wear those high heels all these years, but she always looked fresh and beautiful.
Kelly rarely smiled, but she was trustworthy and dedicated to her job. Flight attendants stand by their word when they take a vow to watch over unaccompanied minors until they are received by the proper family member. Kelly had not let Jeremy out of her sight for over a decade. She and Helen took turns nurturing Jeremy—tucking him into bed and reading stories to him. Rumor had it the lovely flight attendant was in love with Captain Martin, the pilot of their doomed plane. Helen normally would tune out such tittle-tattle, but she had a feeling Captain Martin was sweet on Kelly as well. And ever since they’d discovered the captain’s widow had remarried, well, there you have it.
“Now roll over, Jeremy, and I’ll rub your back,” Helen said.
“Are you sure the princess got away?” he asked.
“Yes, dear. In fairy tales, the princess always wins and the giant is always defeated.”
“But that’s not what happened to us. The bad guys won on 9/11.”
“Now, now, dear. We’re not done with the bad guys. For now we have to keep the faith. There’s something we still need to do here before we can move forward.”
“Does my daddy miss me as much as I miss him?”
“Every day, sweetheart. And aren’t you glad you got to see him that one last time before you flew home to California? But as of tonight, pet, there are no more giants to slay so you can peacefully try to sleep.”
It was crazy. They didn’t need to sleep. She only performed this ritual with Jeremy so he’d have some semblance of normalcy until she and Kelly could get him to his real grandmother in the next world. The spirits didn’t need to eat, exercise, bathe, or do any of the usual activities of living things. Their sole purpose was to mill about smartly, waiting for their orders. And Helen hadn’t lost hope there would be orders, because she couldn’t fathom this existence for eternity—not without Bud. In the meantime she would keep as many routines as possible, especially where Jeremy was concerned. “All the giants have been taken care of for today, pet. Don’t worry. Kelly will stay with you and keep you safe.”
“I miss my mommy.” He looked on the verge of tears as he slipped his thumb into his mouth and cuddled Bongo.
“I know you do, nut muffin. Just remember she loves you very much, but she can’t be here to tuck you in, so Kelly and I are doing it. Now you take a rest and dream about being a hero and getting rid of bad giants.” He shut his eyes, the picture of innocence. Helen kissed his forehead and squeezed his hand before drifting through the steel door.