The next day there was a brief and relatively painless ceremony held on the pier alongside the Seawolf where Brodie was formally relieved of command and Kristen’s new captain took over. His name was Campbell. She’d heard of him, of course. He was considered competent, but nothing like the legend Brodie had become. Normally, change of command ceremonies were rather elaborate affairs with bands and speeches, especially when Brodie was also promoted to full captain during the ceremony, making it even more significant. But true to his word, Brodie’s last command as the skipper of the Seawolf had been to keep the ceremony short so the men could start their leave as soon as possible. No speeches, no bands, just a brief promotion, a formal reading of the orders relieving Brodie and posting his replacement, and then the men were dismissed.
Following the ceremony, all the officers were taken to the Officers’ Club for a reception where Commander Campbell could meet his new officers. Kristen wasn’t in a partying mood to say the least. Mercifully, she saw Brodie only once. He was standing by a window deep in conversation with Admiral Beagler while she spoke briefly with her new captain.
“Captain Brodie speaks highly of you, Lieutenant,” Campbell greeted her with a painted-on smile. He reminded her of a sleazy car salesman for some reason. After he gave her a pleasant look, his eyes glanced beyond her toward Brodie and the Admiral enviously.
Kristen offered her congratulations for his command, but could hardly muster an ounce of sincerity. She then withdrew, finding some company with Penny Graves, who helped Kristen get through the next two hours; the bare minimum time Kristen had to wait before she could slip out of the party to start her own leave.
Somewhere during the conversation with Penny, Kristen lost sight of Brodie. She assumed the Seawolf’s former master had beaten a hasty exit to allow the submarine’s new captain to be the center of attention.
“Are you okay, Kristen?” Penny asked suspiciously.
“I’m fine,” she lied, hearing the lack of sincerity in her own voice as she looked toward an exit.
“You don’t look okay,” Penny pointed out. “You wanna talk about it?”
Kristen could only shake her head. There was no one alive she could talk to about it except for Patricia; only Patricia would understand.
She excused herself and headed for the nearest door, anxious to be alone. She’d nearly made it out when she heard a voice off to her left call her name. For a brief moment she thought it might be Brodie. But she recognized Terry walking through the crowd toward her.
“Leaving so soon?” he asked with his charming smile. She’d noticed over the past month no more open advances from him. Instead, he’d become more interested in just talking to her, which had been a welcome relief from dodging his constant barrage of proposals.
Kristen motioned toward the door. “Yeah, I was. I start leave in the morning and need to pack.”
“Where to?” he asked, and she noticed an unusual note of desperation in his tone which she didn’t understand.
“I promised my grandparents I would come and see them,” Kristen admitted.
Terry nodded and then, as if as an afterthought asked, “What’re your plans for tonight?”
“Nothing really,” she admitted. “Just packing.”
“Maybe we could get something to eat?” he asked hopefully.
But she shook her head. “Nah,” then added in explanation, “I don’t think I’d be very good company right now.”
But Terry wasn’t about to surrender so easily. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that.”
Kristen suspected he might have developed stronger feelings for her than simple lust, but shook her head. “Sorry, Terry,” she told him. “I really just want to be alone.”
She said goodnight to him and headed back to her barracks. She tried to purge herself of thoughts of Brodie as she walked, but it was impossible. He’d said nothing to her at the reception, avoiding her as he had for the last month of the cruise. But their last conversation rang in her ears, stinging her still.
Kristen changed into her gym clothing, hoping to exorcise him from the depths of her soul by punishing her body. But even though she ran nearly five miles at such a pace she made herself sick, her thoughts were still plagued by him.
Kristen returned to her room as dusk settled. After a shower, she finished unpacking her gear and prepared a bag for the trip to San Diego. But within an hour, she’d seen to her uniforms, packed and repacked her bag, and then faced the prospect of a long night alone.
She had no more tears left to shed.
She tried reminding herself that she was accustomed to being alone, having spent her life isolated from everyone around her. But now, for the first time, the bitter loneliness felt like a weight too heavy to bear. The empty room only amplified her depression and sense of isolation.
Finally, unable to stand the solitude any longer, she grabbed her leather flight jacket and fled the room, wanting to get some fresh night air. The fickle Puget Sound weather had turned a bit cold, and she was thankful for the jacket as she walked aimlessly along the sidewalk. Occasionally a car slowed and some half-drunk sailor offered her a ride, but otherwise, she met no one as she walked aimlessly around the base.
As she meandered, Kristen couldn’t stop her persistent memory from replaying every moment with him, searching for any hint to prove she’d been wrong. But with each step, her mind replayed the last words he spoke to her, telling her he didn’t care for her. Kristen walked on and finally found herself at the wharf looking out at the submarine piers.
In the distance, she could make out the lights around the Seawolf. But the submarine no longer held the allure for her it once had. The price to serve was too high. Her right hand pulled a folded handkerchief from her pocket. It was the handkerchief he’d given her that night on the sail to dry her tears. She held it to her nose, breathing in his essence once more, and feeling the stabbing pain of loss. She loved him. No matter what he said to her, she still loved him. What was worse, she was quite certain that for as long as she lived, she would never love another.
A few cars passed behind her as she stood against the security fence looking out at the submarines tugging gently at their mooring lines. She couldn’t help but second guess herself, wondering if she’d scared him off somehow. Had she been too abrupt? Should she have waited until they were off the Seawolf? Did he truly have no feelings for her? She looked across the waves at the submarine resting peacefully. The thought of returning to the Seawolf without him on board caused the tears to threaten again. She wiped them away on her sleeve.
“Hey, good looking!” Kristen heard someone from a car filled with sailors call to her as they pulled up a few yards behind her at the curb. “You need a ride?”
Kristen turned, shook her head, and then looked back out at the wharf. She stared at the water, feeling the chill wind trying to bite through her leather flight jacket. She could hear the wind whipping through the leaves of some low bushes and a seagull call. Then she heard the throaty rumble of a motorcycle approaching. She didn’t turn her head at the sound, her grief-stricken thoughts not registering the deep-throated grumble. But Kristen became aware of it as she heard it slow and come to a stop behind her. For a moment she allowed the foolish, stupid little girl within her the fantasy, imagining he was behind her. Kristen waited for the latest sailor to offer her a ride, but after several seconds, she still heard nothing more.