“Thank you, Captain,” the senior of the newcomers relied. “But we have to say it’s already been pretty damn interesting.”
As the best her Marine guests of honor had been able to manage were borrowed tropic khakis, Amanda had kept the dinner’s dress code semi-formal. She herself had opted to enjoy civilian garb, a favorite green silk cheongsam that she knew suited her eyes and hair well, a naval command insignia glinting at its high collar. Amanda had been feeling rather dragonladyish since assuming command of Phantom Force and the exotic clothes suited her mood.
Now she lifted her slender-stemmed glass. “Ladies and gentlemen, if I may.” She didn’t rise from her chair, a tradition inherited from the Royal Navy. A shipboard
toast could be offered sitting, a holdover from the days of low frigate
overheads. “To the ship, to the flag, and to fallen comrades.”
Soft acknowledgements rippled around the table. At its far end, Admiral
MacIntyre lifted his own glass and countered, “And, if I may, ladies and gentlemen – to a clean victory, well won, and to those who brought it to fruition.”
Elliot and the others were looking at her and she flushed at the sentiment. Couldn’t they see it wasn’t her? It had never been her. It was them. Always them.
MacIntyre spoke again, “And now it seems that that dose of trans-Pacific jet lag is finally catching up
to me, so by your leave, Captain.”
As the senior officer present, it was MacIntyre’s call to end the evening. Amanda tilted her head in reply. “Of course, Admiral. In fact, I believe we all have another heavy day ahead of
us. Ladies and gentlemen, it’s been a very pleasant evening.”
The grouping around the long table broke up, conversations flaring up again as the party started to disperse. Stone Quillain was enthusiastically discussing handgun hunting with the Air Commando group leader and Dix Beltrain was amiably arguing the 1998 NFL season with Captain Montgomery.
Christine Rendino and Vince Arkady had been seated next to each other through dinner and now, still talking about old days in California, they were leaving the Salon together. To her amazement, Amanda felt a sudden flash of jealousy. Then she mentally slapped herself.
A long time ago, Chris had hinted that she found Arkady decidedly attractive. If it was her turn with him now, she could only wish her friend all of the best. She lightly bit her lower lip and considered some intriguing mental images.
“What are you smiling about?”
MacIntyre was standing beside her chair, looking at her quizzically.
“Oh, nothing really. It’s an extremely long and complex story.”
“There seems to be a number of those going around lately.” Elliot was looking at her with the same hint of that discomfort she’d sensed a couple of times since his coming aboard. “Amanda, may I talk to you about something? Alone?”
She lifted her brows and pushed her chair back. “Of course. Why not?” The lifeboat weather decks were on the same level as the main saloon and would be unoccupied at that hour.
Outside, the Shenandoah was running through a mixed bag of weather. To port, a thunderhead pulsed intermittently with its own internal illumination while, overhead and to starboard, the stars glittered wetly in a clear, humid sky.
The Shenandoah had resumed her civil guise and she was steaming slowly with her deck and running lights full on. Still, the illumination was low enough to allow the bioglow of the wake to be visible. The night smelled of jungle, sea and ozone.
“Looks like that storm will be cutting across our course line,” MacIntyre commented.
“Mmm.” Amanda leaned against the rail, looking out at the night. “The wave height shouldn’t be too bad and the rains will cool things down a bit. I’m planning to alter course east northeast toward Makassar Strait under the storm
cover. We’ll ride under it for a while and get lost for a little bit.”
“Are you going to try an identity change on the ship?”
“Not yet. I intend to hold that in reserve for a while longer,” she replied, coming to lean against the rail next to the boat davits. “As it is, nobody seems to be paying any excessive attention to us. I think our
luck’s still holding.”
“Pretty much.” Elliot still sounded distracted. It was unusual for the CinC of NAVSPECFORCE to be indecisive about anything. What was wrong? Something personal perhaps? Maybe something with Judy?
“Amanda, have I ever told you very much about my late wife?” MacIntyre had joined her at the rail, brooding out at the looming squall.
“A little bit now and again. Why?”
“Because Anne was a very special lady,” he replied. “She and I were quite literally childhood sweethearts. We were navy brats,
brought up together, and she was my best friend before she ever became my girl,
or my fiancée or my wife. She was always my best friend.”
“That’s something to be envied.”
“I was extremely lucky,” Elliot agreed. “When I was in high school, I never dated many other girls. I didn’t need to. There was just Anne and an understanding. I married her the day after
I graduated from Annapolis. After that I never … considered another woman. I had my wife and I loved her unreservedly through
our three children and to the day she died.” He voice buckled slightly. “I still love her and I intend to keep on doing so.”
Amanda looked up at his set face and said nothing. She didn’t know what to say. She sensed something extraordinary was happening here.
He continued almost impatiently, “I’m dragging out all of this emotional baggage to try and explain something, or
maybe justify it.”
“What?”
“I had a discussion with Christine Rendino this afternoon, a discussion
concerning you.”
Amanda lifted an eyebrow. “Something favorable, I hope.”
Elliot’s responding half-smile had a great deal of self-derision in it. “The problem wasn’t really with you but with me.”
“How so?” Amanda asked, puzzled.
“I’ve discovered that I have rather stunted social skills in certain areas,” he replied. “I never developed a real capacity for saying the appropriate things at the
appropriate times to another woman. With Anne around, I never needed to … until now.”
At last, Amanda understood. What Chris had told her back on that last day aboard the Carlson was true – and now this big, strong, decisive man was breaking down an entire lifetime of conditioning and isolation to reach out hesitantly to her.
Amanda felt a tremendous upwelling of warmth, happiness and humility. She smiled
up into his face. “Maybe so, Elliot. But if you want one woman’s opinion, you’re not doing so badly.”
That pulled a short, sheepish chuckle out of the man. She felt a callused hand
rest on hers on the railing. “I’m pleased to hear it. The question is, what should I say next?”
Amanda could have made some suggestions but she didn’t get the chance.
“Begging the Captain’s pardon?”
