The Sea Before Us Page 20

  “Hey.” He nudged her with his elbow. “Don’t be hard on yourself. You aren’t the only one looking at those photos.”

  “I know.” She closed the sketchbook. “No more wallowing. You’ll regret visiting me.”

  “Nope.” The sun turned his hair golden. “You’re the reason I came to Southwick.”

  Her heart performed a strange little trill. “Me?”

  “I begged Marino to let me be his errand boy. I have good news for you. You’ll never guess where I was this past week.”

  Had she ever seen his eyes so bright? “At sea?”

  “Yep. Up to Greenock and back. We escorted some transports.”

  “That’s nice.” As glad as she was to see him, why would he come all the way to Southwick to tell her that?

  “Soon we’re heading back to train in the Firth of Clyde. We’ll be there about two weeks, almost up till D-day.”

  Why was that good news? She’d have no chance to see him, possibly forever.

  “Don’t you see?” His grin grew. “It’s not far from Edinburgh. Not far at all. That’s no coincidence—that’s God’s providence. Both Marino and Adams said I could have a forty-eight-hour leave. Do you think you can get to Scotland?”

  “To investigate . . .” Her voice came out in a whisper.

  “It’s our best chance to clear your dad.”

  Or condemn him. She rubbed her forehead. “It takes a full day on the train. I have every weekend free, but I’d need an additional day for travel.”

  “Would First Officer what’s-her-name give it to you?”

  “Gladly.” Anything to separate Dorothy from Lawrence.

  “Could Mr. Montague meet us? Or figure out a way to get us in?”

  “I’ll try to ring him. If I can’t, I’ll send him a telegram.”

  “How’s this weekend? We’re supposed to arrive late Saturday. If you took the train on Saturday, we could investigate on Sunday—”

  “This Saturday? I have a date with Lawrence.” She clamped her mouth shut. What was wrong with her—putting Lawrence above her father? She could reschedule. She should. She would. And why did she feel so awful mentioning her date to Wyatt?

  His smile fell a bit, then rose again. “How about the following weekend?”

  “Much better.” To break her gaze, she set her sketchbook on the grass. “It would be easier to take Friday off. I could take the train on Friday, we could investigate on Saturday, and I could return—” No. No, she couldn’t.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Oh no. I can’t go.”

  He winced. “The weekend after that will be too late for sure.”

  Dorothy groaned. “No, I can’t go at all. I don’t have the money for the fare, the hotel. I gave it all away.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Have I told you about my friend Johanna? The Jewish refugee? Her grandmother’s ill, and she couldn’t pay the doctor, so I gave her all my pay for April. I won’t be paid again until the end of May. I have enough for a trip or two to London, but not Edinburgh. Oh, Wyatt, I’m so sorry.”

  He frowned. “Do you have enough in the bank?”

  “I do, but it’s in London. By the time I arrive on Fridays, the bank is closed.”

  “Could you ask your dad to—oh, you can’t ask him, huh?”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry. Why do I always have to be so impulsive?”

  “Stop it.” He bumped his shoulder against hers. “What you did was kind and generous. Never resist an impulse to be kind.”

  Now he was the one being kind. “But I ruined your plans.”

  Wyatt draped his arms on his knees, nodding slightly, his eyes narrowed at the landscape. Oh dear. Was he angry? He had every right to be. But he didn’t look angry, merely pensive.

  Then he leaned onto one hip and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. “How much do you need?”

  She gasped. “No, you can’t do that. You’re so close to paying off your debt.”

  He drew out some pound notes. “Not punishing myself, remember? And a few bucks won’t make a difference.”

  Dorothy pushed his hand away. “I can’t take it. I know what it means to you.”

  “And I know what clearing your dad’s name means to you.” He slipped the notes into her sketchbook. “There’s a main train station in Edinburgh, isn’t there? I’ll meet you there at 0900 on Saturday the twentieth. If you’re not there, I’ll know your CO didn’t give you leave. I’ll go sightseeing instead. I’ve always wanted to see Edinburgh.”

  She rested one hand on the grass. He was willing to waste his leave looking at dusty old account books and to spend his precious money, not just on her fare and lodging, but on his as well. Such generosity. For . . . her?

  Dorothy’s eyes tingled, and she cleared her throat. “Why are you doing this? Sacrificing your time, your money?”

  He put his wallet back in his pocket. “It’s the right thing to do.”

  How many times had she heard him say those words? He meant them. He was a man of honor, and her heart felt full.

  Wyatt sat forward, his hands gripped between his knees. The tendons stood out on the back of his hands, his mouth pursed, and his forehead drew up.

  “Oh dear. You’re having second thoughts about the money. I’ll—”

  “No. Not that. No regrets.” His head swung back and forth, heavy and slow. “I just—I wasn’t honest.”

  Her lips parted. He’d lied to her? In what way? “What—”

  “I didn’t tell a lie. Nothing like that. But I didn’t tell the whole truth. Sometimes it’s wise to hold things back. It is. But sometimes it’s dishonest.”

  Her mind reeled. When had he ever been less than honest with her? “I don’t understand.”

  “I said I was doing this because it’s right. It is, but that’s not the whole truth. Pretending that’s the only reason—well, it makes me look nobler than I really am.”

  Her fingers curled into the grass blades. What did he mean? Why wouldn’t he look at her?

  His chest puffed out, and then he blew out a long breath. “I had other motives for wanting to help with the business. I wanted to spend more time with you, hoped you’d—well, I hoped you’d fall for me.”

  “Oh . . .” She barely heard her own voice. Not only had he become infatuated, but he was willing to admit it. It was too marvelous, too horrible.

  His face reddened, and his chin dipped. “Because I’ve fallen for you. Hard. I—I love you. There, I’ve said it, but it doesn’t change a thing. You’re crazy about Lawrence, and it looks like he’s crazy about you. So I’ll be happy for you. I will. I want what’s best for you.”

  Dorothy clamped her hand over her mouth. He . . . he loved her?

  “I wasn’t thinking anyway.” He jerked his head to one side. “You can’t leave your dad. I know that. It was a foolish dream.”

  Her emotions crashed into one another like waves in a storm, swelling in her chest, filling her mouth. “Oh, Wyatt. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t pity me. Please,” he said in a sharp tone, and he pushed himself to standing. “I’d better go. I’ll see you in Edinburgh. May 20, 0900.”

  The sun behind his head blinded her and obscured his features. “You—you still want to go?”

  “I promised, didn’t I? I’ll see you then.” He put on his cap and strode across the lawn, his shoulders straight and broad.

  Dorothy buried her face in her hands and moaned. He loved her? Love? Not infatuation, but actual love?

  “I love you.” Had anyone ever said those words to her? Ever?

  Her chest heaved. No. No one. Not that she could remember.

  Not her father. Not her mother. Her brothers had loved her, but they never would have said so. And her beaus? She’d always thrown them over quickly because they weren’t Lawrence Eaton, her ideal man.

  And what about Lawrence? Why, he didn’t know her well enough to love her. And if he did fall for her, he’d fall for her sophistic
ated persona, not the real Dorothy.

  But Wyatt . . . Wyatt loved her.

  A little sob burst out. “Why, Lord? Why?”

  All the words she longed to hear came from the wrong mouth.

  30

  USS Oglesby, St. George’s Channel

  Saturday, May 13, 1944

  “I can’t believe you told her.” Jack Vale buttoned up his khaki shirt.

  “I know.” Wyatt gritted his teeth and pulled on his heavy mackinaw, changing out of the dress blues he’d worn for dinner on the first dog watch. “Now she knows I’m a lovelorn fool, but I had to be honest.”

  Jack grabbed his cover from the bottom bunk. “On the bright side, now that she knows you love her, maybe she’ll come to look at you in a new light.”

  “That’s what I like about you, Vale—your optimism.”

  With a flourish of his cover, Jack swept a low bow. “At your service.”

  “Wish it were warranted.” Wyatt took his own cover off the top bunk. “She’s been crazy about Eaton since she was a girl. He went on their family vacations, and she keeps painting the house where they stayed. He’s got a hold on her—and a date with her tonight.”

  Jack let out a low whistle. “You sure know how to pick them, Wy.”

  “I sure do.” Dorothy’s shocked face when he’d confessed his love wouldn’t leave his mind—her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with dismay, her forehead pinched with pity.

  Wyatt slammed his eyes shut as if he could wipe his memory clean, but he of all people knew the past couldn’t be undone. Better to follow Dorothy’s example—no more wallowing.

  He pulled his stationery box from a desk drawer, then led the way out of the cabin, down the passageway, through the wardroom, and up the ladder.

  Jack kept climbing, up to the Combat Information Center for duty, but Wyatt stepped out onto the main deck. He was off duty for the second dog watch, but he had an important personal duty to attend to.

  He stood at the rails and inhaled the cool air. The sun brightened the clouds above the Irish coast in the distance before him, promising almost two good hours of daylight.

  Four destroyers of DesRon 18 steamed in a column through a narrow channel kept swept of mines. The ships would spend the next two weeks at Belfast, Northern Ireland, at Greenock, Scotland, and in the waters in between. The crews would keep busy with antiaircraft, antisubmarine, and gunnery drills, and would work with the Shore Fire Control Parties.

  He strode aft down the deck. Time to write Adler and Clay.

  D-day was less than a month away, and he wanted his brothers to receive the letters before. Dorothy had said she couldn’t have borne it if she and her brothers had been estranged when they died. If one of the Paxton boys—or all of them—should die during the invasion, he wanted them to go out on good terms. If nothing else, Wyatt would know he’d done his part.

  Above him, the two stacks of the Oglesby puffed out steam as the ship made eighteen knots. Sailors bustled around changing watch, and Wyatt nodded to the men as they went to the mess.

  He had to admit the main reason he hadn’t written earlier was fear. Not only fear he’d never be forgiven, but the greater fear that his family would never be restored.

  Wyatt passed the aft superstructure, crowned with the 40-mm guns.

  Sure, paying off his debt was right and necessary, but he’d used the debt as an excuse to avoid confrontation.

  Wyatt worked his hand inside his mackinaw and slipped his notepad out of his breast pocket. Pages and pages of neat figures showed the huge sum being whittled down. Even with what he’d given Dorothy, he only had $42.57 left to repay, which would be brought to zero when he was paid at the end of the month. Right before D-day.

  He sat on the deck astern of the number four gun, a quiet place since no gunnery drills were scheduled tonight.

  Resting back against the heavy steel gun enclosure, he drew up his knees. The barrel of the gun stretched over his head, pointing south. In front of him, two depth-charge racks sat at the stern, ready to dump depth charges on any U-boats that dared navigate the narrow St. George’s Channel between Wales and Ireland.

  His hands clamped around the stationery box. “Lord, give me the words,” he whispered. “Let me bring peace, not anger. Reconciliation, not further division. Put my family back together, Lord. Please. Only you can do that.”

  No more procrastinating. No more excuses. Wyatt set a sheet of stationery on top of the box and uncapped his pen.

  Dear Adler,

  I’m sure you’re surprised to hear from me, but I pray you’ll read this and consider what I have to say. I need to apologize and ask your forgiveness.

  Sounds like you and I finally wrote home about the same time. Mama gave me your address and begged me to write you. She said you’re a fighter pilot. I’m a naval officer based on the same island. Looks like all three of us are preparing for the same operation. On Easter Sunday, I believe I saw you in the park. I couldn’t face you then, but I choose to do so now.

  I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am about Oralee. Although her death was an accident and there was no malice in my actions, my role wasn’t completely innocent. We have a long history of competition, you and I, and I resented how my younger brother bested me in everything. But Oralee rightfully chose you over me. You two were meant to be together, and I was wrong to let jealousy take root.

  When she didn’t want to cross that bridge and you kept coaxing her, all that resentment boiled up. My pride started that argument. My anger made Oralee cross the bridge just to stop our fighting. And my jealousy led her to refuse my help even as she teetered on the edge.

  So no, I didn’t kill her in the eyes of God or the law, but my actions did lead to her death. Even though the Lord has forgiven me, I will always live with the regret that her life ended far too early and that your life together never began.

  Please know I am deeply sorry for the grief I caused you. If you should choose to forgive me, I’ll be forever grateful. But if you don’t, I’ll understand.

  I’ve never blamed you for wanting to kill me that day, and I forgave you for that long ago. How can I do otherwise when I recognize the depth of my own sins against you and Clay and while I accept Jesus’s astounding mercy?

  As this war heats up, only God knows what will happen to us. I can’t head into battle without telling you everything in my heart. As much as we competed and fought, I miss you. I miss how you challenged me. I miss your sunny spirit, your passionate drive, and how you inspire everyone to do their best. You’re a good man, and I admire you, respect you, and love you. I’m a better man for having you as my brother.

  I pray we can be reconciled and can meet again. I’m enclosing my address, and I hope you write me. Whatever you have to say, I can take it. Even if we’re never reconciled, please know I’ll pray for you all the days of my life.

  Your brother, Wyatt

  His head sagged back against the gun’s cold steel. If only he could refill his drained soul before writing the next letter. But the war wouldn’t wait for one man to catch his breath, so he exchanged the written letter for a blank sheet of stationery and sent up another prayer. This letter would be even more difficult.

  Dear Clay,

  I’m sure Daddy and Mama told you that I finally wrote home. Now I’ve worked up the courage to write you and tell you how very sorry I am.

  The only reason Adler didn’t kill me that day was because you held him back so I could escape. Thank you for saving my life and for saving Adler from the consequences of murder. You deserved my gratitude. Instead, I betrayed you.

  I could make excuses and say that panic and fear messed up my thinking, but there’s no excuse for stealing your savings.

  Like a coward, I stole and I ran. I went to stay with a college buddy in Charleston. I intended to send back the remainder of your money, get a job, and pay back what I’d spent. Instead, I let my friend talk me into investing your money—without your permission—in his company. I
thought I’d double your money in months. Not only would you receive your college savings, but you’d receive full tuition for medical school as well.

  But the company failed. I lost every penny, plus we owed our creditors.

  Since I no longer trusted my business skills, I didn’t dare take an accounting job. When I saw a Navy recruitment office, I signed up for officer training. I’m now in the same part of the world as you, preparing for the same operation.

  For the past three years, I’ve deeply regretted how I betrayed you. But Daddy’s letter showed me the truth. I didn’t just steal your money—I stole your lifelong dream. I wasn’t aware that Paxton Trucking was in poor financial straits and that Daddy couldn’t afford your tuition. I know how much you hated working in the office, how much you wanted to be a physician, and what a good doctor you would have been.

  It breaks my heart that my selfish actions prevented you from doing what God created you to do. Knowing you were drafted because you weren’t studying medicine only deepens my remorse.

  For what it’s worth, I’m almost done paying off my debt, not just what I stole but interest and a large fine. At the end of the month, my paycheck will cover the last of it. I’ll send a check home for Daddy to deposit. If something should happen to me before then, my will states that my full bank account goes to you, plus a third of my life insurance.

  I have no right to ask for forgiveness, but I do want you to know how sorry I am. I take full responsibility for the sins I committed against you and God. The Lord has seen fit to forgive me, but I’ll understand if you don’t.

  Before we head into battle, I need to tell you how much I love and miss you. As much as Adler and I fought, we rarely fought with you. Somehow we knew you were the best of the Paxton boys, and we always protected you. Until the night I betrayed you.

  Please know that hideous act doesn’t reflect how I truly feel about you. You’re always kind, always generous, always cheerful. A born healer, concerned not just with the body but with the heart and soul. I pray that when this war is over, you can fulfill your dream and have the life God meant for you.