“Well, since we all believe the unbelievable, I have a few other findings that I suggest we answer.”
Hoss Miller passed around a sheet of questions.
“Do you find any evidence of wrongdoing by any fact witness who appeared before this Board?” The unanimous answer was NO.
“Do you find any evidence that Captain Ashley Patterson did not execute her duties to the best of her ability?” The unanimous answer was NO.
“Do you have any specific recommendations to avoid a similar occurrence from ever happening again?” This wasn’t a yes/no question. It was a question to solicit ideas from the Board members. All Miller saw was shaking heads and hunched shoulders.
“Well, I have a recommendation,” said Admiral Miller.
He held up a large card, which simply read:
STAY AWAY!
N 32° 41′ 41″
W 78° 34′ 27″
“What’s that, Hoss?” asked Admiral Ferguson.
“The coordinates of the wormhole,” said Miller.
“This Board of Inquiry is officially closed.”
Chapter 102
Ashley and Jack left the ship at different times. Ashley was concerned about appearances. This crap shall soon end, she thought.
They were both on a 30-day leave, 30 days of relaxation, freedom from stress, and also 30 days to get to know each other. They met for lunch at an out of the way diner near the rental place where they’d pick up a car. Jack owned a vacation home on a lake about two hours away. As Jack drove, they passed the time telling jokes and guessing the states of passing license plates. No decisions, no boatswain’s pipe, no uniform of the day, no meetings. Their mission was to relax and be in each other’s company. They were both dedicated to the mission.
“So, Operation Jack and Ashley has begun,” said Ashley. “As I recall I put you in command of the operation, Lieutenant. A house on a lake is a commendable start.”
“I take this operation very seriously, Captain,” said Jack, as he reached over and squeezed her hand.
“Jack, isn’t it about time you started calling me Ashley?”
“Aye aye, Ashley. How about Sweetheart?”
She leaned over and kissed him.
They drove down a winding road to the house. Jack’s caretaker had arranged things for their visit.
Ashley drew her breath as she looked at the house and the view of the lake. The house rose two stories high with dark shingling and a roofline inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright. In front was a gravel parking area, marked off by logs and surrounded by wild flowers. They walked out onto the huge mahogany deck. In the distance, two small mountains converged, providing a viewing frame for the lake. They inhaled the fresh air blowing across the water. A stairway led from the deck to a floating dock, to which was tied a shining antique wooden Chris Craft powerboat. The boat was named Wordsmith. They sat down to take in the view, Ashley in an Adirondack chair, Jack stretched out on a lounge.
“Where do you live when you’re not at this beautiful place, Jack?”
“I have a place on East 66th Street in Manhattan.”
“You own an apartment on East 66th?”
“Well, it’s a Brownstone.”
“What do we pay Lieutenants these days?”
Jack smiled. “Book royalties do add up.”
“Speaking of books, I think you should write another novel after you’re done with the big Gray Ships book. Maybe something inspired by the last few months.”
“I have been working on an idea for a novel, and I’ve been looking forward to bouncing it off you.”
“Fire away,” said Ashley, “I’ll play the part of your literary agent.”
“Okay, but try to act short, fat, and bald.”
“Here goes. Two lonely people meet on a ship at sea in a scary and troubling time. They’re frightened and confused, and they don’t know what will become of them. As the time passes, they become closer. They fall in love, and with all the uncertainty they know one thing. Whatever happens, their love won’t go away.”
Ashley brushed a tear from her eye, reached over and touched Jack’s hand.
“Now that’s a book that deserves a big advance,” Ashley said softly.
“How big?”
Ashley got up from her chair and lay next to Jack on the lounger. They embraced as if trying to squeeze away the events of the last few months. Their lips met, and they both lost track of time.
A loud screech interrupted them. Ashley sat up with a bolt, expecting to hear, “Captain to the bridge.”
“Relax Hon, it’s just an osprey.” Ashley collapsed back into his arms, laughing.
The sun was setting behind the mountains, and a gentle breeze came off the lake through the screen doors of the master bedroom suite. Jack was taking a shower. As he lathered up, he heard a soft tapping on the shower door.
“Don’t you believe in conserving energy, Lieutenant?” Ashley said as she opened the door and stepped in.
“Wow, I’ve never seen you out of uniform before,” Jack said as he wrapped his arms around her. “Did I mention, Wow?”
“You’re not too bad looking yourself, sailor.”
They caressed amid the steam, water, and soap.
Although they both needed sleep, there was little to be had that night. They recalled the months of longing, the months of wanting to reach out, to touch and embrace. Those months seemed like an eternity ago. But that night there was no tentativeness or timidity. There was no looking both ways, no listening for footsteps. They abandoned themselves to passion and made love into the wee hours.
Ashley awoke before Jack. She took a quick shower, threw on a robe and went downstairs. As she walked into the kitchen she had a great idea. She would cook a country breakfast for herself and Jack. She rummaged through the well stocked refrigerator, piling ingredients on the counter.
A thought intruded. She had no idea how to cook. Anything. Can’t be that hard, she figured. Just common sense, right?
Jack came down a half hour later. Ashley placed a folded napkin over her left forearm, bowed and gestured toward the table with her right hand. She didn’t identify the offerings, which was just as well. They were unidentifiable. She and Jack leaned over and kissed, and then began eating.
The food was inedible.
At first they chuckled. Then they laughed until tears rolled down their cheeks.
“I’ll just toss this stuff in the lake,” Ashley said, still laughing. “Biodegradable, right?”
Jack envisioned hundreds of dead fish floating along the shoreline.
“That’s okay, Hon. I’ll just put it out in the trash.”
“I’ve got a place in mind that you’ll love,” said Jack. “There’s a great little restaurant down the lake. The food’s great and the view is almost as good as it is here. We’ll take the boat.”
As they boarded Wordsmith, Ashley ran her hand over the mahogany decking and the leather upholstery. Jack stood behind the wheel and turned the key, the boat’s inboard diesel engine growling to life. Ashley tossed off the lines and they motored down the lake. Rather than sit, Ashley chose to stand next to Jack as he steered the boat. For months on the California, they stole glances, blew kisses, and occasionally touched hands. Now, neither of them wanted to be apart from each other. She put her arm around his waist.
Jack maneuvered Wordsmith next to the dock at the restaurant, aptly named Lakeside. Ashley jumped onto the dock and secured the lines. I can’t cook, she thought, but I sure as hell know the ropes.