“It’s the only time she was on camera,” Daniel said.
“Okay. I should have recognized that one.”
Daniel started the video. Because Bishop knew her pretty well by now, he recognized the nerves Gina was feeling during the opening introduction. Then the image changed to computer-generated displays of the audio recordings taken during the sea trial, and her voice-over sounded comfortable and confident. The presentation was concise, detailed, effective. They had both heard the main section of the video several times now, and Daniel turned it off after they were comfortable with the sound levels.
Bishop slipped on the lapel microphone he would be wearing and moved to the front of the room, checked sound levels with Daniel at the back. Rear Admiral Hardman would be in attendance, but the presentation on what tactical changes would be implemented had been passed to Bishop. He didn’t have to ask if he was being prepared for that flag officer rank one day. Hardman was good at pushing his line officers into new and greater responsibilities.
The Secretary of the Navy would be issuing new operational directives for all submarines. A torpedo would now be kept hot in the launch tube, and torpedo countermeasures would become the full-time responsibility of the weapons officer’s deputy chief. Other nations might not know yet how to do a ping that couldn’t be heard, but the U.S. Navy would shift and practice tactics before it became an issue.
“Could I ask you a question, Commander?” Daniel asked as Bishop slipped off the microphone. “A personal one.”
“Sure.”
“Why did you arrange for me to be doing this, sir? Helping out Gina? Especially since you’re interested in her yourself. ”
Bishop glanced over at Daniel. “Why do you say that?”
“The sea trials—and since then—Gina is with me, or she’s with you. I don’t think that’s happening by accident. And I’ve noticed you’re no longer wearing your wedding ring.”
Bishop glanced down, flexed his fingers. “She’s been designated a national security asset.”
“She told me. But that has nothing to do with this, sir. She may not have noticed yet, but I have. So why give me a clear avenue with her?”
Bishop didn’t try to dissuade Daniel from what he’d noticed. “She likes you, and I play fair. Whoever ends up with her is going to have a very good day. The other is going to be a gracious second. We understand each other, Daniel?”
“Absolutely. I’d wish you good luck, sir, but I like her too much to do so.”
Bishop smiled. “Have to say the same.” He weighed the reality, then asked the question first on his mind. “Anything going on with her you think I should know about?”
“She really wants to get out of Bangor, start working on something else,” Daniel replied.
“No surprise there. Has she chosen between Maryland or California yet?”
“She hasn’t said.”
Bishop nodded. “She’s going to be exhausted after the presentation tomorrow, and you’re heading to Groton the next day. If you haven’t already asked her about dinner, I’d ask her early.”
“We’ve got plans,” Daniel confirmed. “I realize I’m swiftly going to be at a tactical disadvantage. I’ll be in Groton for five weeks.”
“Be glad it’s not a three-month patrol,” Bishop replied.
Daniel nodded. “One of us is going to be a lucky man.”
“I have a feeling it’s going to be you, Daniel,” Bishop said, trying to be objective. “She’s dating you, and she’s not the type to keep her options open simply to make comparisons. She’ll make a decision when she’s ready.”
“I think we’ll both know before the summer is over, sir.”
Bishop thought Daniel was right. “You’re ready to handle the sonar questions?” he asked.
“I think so, though her paper on the theory is stretching what I can follow. But given the group that will be hearing this idea for the first time tomorrow, their questions should stay in a ballpark I can answer.”
“I read the paper and understood it was elegantly above my pay grade,” Bishop mentioned. “I saw it work—that’s the territory I need to know.”
“Same here.” Daniel hesitated. “Do you suppose she’s ever going to stop discovering things?”
Bishop shook his head. “Comes with the territory. From listening to Jeff, she seems to waffle between stressed out with a discovery and bored, and a new discovery seems like the easier of the two situations to deal with.”
“I haven’t seen ‘bored’ yet,” Daniel said, “so I’ll take Jeff’s word for it.”
Bishop shut off the lights and locked the room. He debated for a moment about the wisdom of letting the conversation drop, felt compelled to say one more thing. “Daniel—don’t hold her back. If Gina chooses you, give her room to keep exploring, whatever you have to do career-wise.”
“Already concluded that, sir. If she’s got a flaw, it’s the desire to have someone’s approval. She’s too willing to please. The wrong guy, and she’d turn off the smarts just to fit in as his wife. No way that’s going to happen on my watch.”
“Thanks for that.”
Daniel smiled. “I see who she is, sir, same as you.”
11
The commanders’ meeting about Gina’s creation of a cross-sonar ping was breaking up, and a group had gathered around her to informally ask more questions.
“What’s next for you, Miss Gray?” an officer asked.
Bishop rested his hand against the small of her back, letting her know she wasn’t facing the questions alone.
“Research on the sun—solar flares, coronal mass ejections. I’ve been studying the oceans for a decade, and it feels like it’s time for a new challenge.”
“Our loss, I’m thinking,” the captain of the Pennsylvania replied.
The meeting had taken six hours with a short break for lunch. Bishop would give himself decent marks on the afternoon session, discussing the tactical implications, but he was relieved the day was done just the same.
Daniel Field joined them. “Ready to go, Gina?”
“Yes.” She excused herself with a smile and gathered up her notebooks.
Bishop gave Daniel a nod, knowing he was planning to take Gina out to dinner. His own plans for the next few hours would include a casual version of the afternoon session, held on his back deck with some steaks on the grill. Commanders didn’t have a chance to get together very often, and his evening was booked to catch up with his fellow officers.
Bishop stopped when Gina’s hand settled on his arm. “Thanks for getting me past today, Mark.”
He smiled and lightly covered her hand with his. “You did fine. Go enjoy the evening with Daniel.”
Bishop was trying to be fair. He knew there was a powerful marker going to be laid down tonight on Daniel’s side and didn’t want to dwell on what it might be. That Daniel might propose wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. Bishop would consider any state of affairs that didn’t include an engagement ring on Gina’s finger tomorrow as good news.
It had been a long night. Bishop settled back in a chair at Jeff’s kitchen table while his friend lifted bacon out of a skillet. “Word has it the fishing is good along the south bank below the bridge,” Bishop mentioned. “Want to run out with me for a few hours?”
“I’m game,” Jeff said.
Bishop heard footsteps on the stairs.
“I didn’t know you were coming by,” Gina said, hesitating in the doorway. She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, still barefoot.
Bishop checked out her left hand, relaxed, and gave her a comfortable smile. “I brought the bakery part of breakfast,” he replied, nodding to the sack of fresh bagels he’d picked up an hour before. “Jeff and I are talking about going fishing. Want to come along?”
“I’m planning to take a day off—wander a bookstore, watch a movie, take a nap.”
“Sounds like a good day,” Bishop said. She pulled out a chair, and he slid the bag over to her. “Cream ch
eese packets are in the sack too.”
She reached for one of the plastic-wrapped knives and retrieved cream cheese for her bagel. “Dare I ask about feedback on the presentation yesterday?”
“Solid. Lots of kudos for you. But you don’t need another day talking about work. How about another question.”
She laughed softly. “Tell me about the fish you’re planning to catch.”
“I’m hoping for a decent-size bass, but I’ll settle for some crappies or catfish. It’s more a trip to test out a couple of new lures. And I want to get enough sun that I’m glad for the sunscreen and the sunglasses.”
He wasn’t surprised at her decision to pass on fishing. It wasn’t Gina’s preferred way to spend a few hours. But it was just as well since he wanted a chance to ask Jeff some questions. What he wanted for this week was to feel out where she was with Daniel and put down some markers of his own with her before she left the Bangor area.
Bishop stepped into Jeff’s living room. Gina muted the game show on television. “You’re back early,” she said. “Catch something for lunch?”
“The fish weren’t biting, and Jeff got a call from Tiffany. He decided helping her move some furniture was a better use of his time. I’m heading back to my place, unless you would like to take a short trip? I’ll take you to visit my favorite bookstore.”
“Where is it?”
“Seattle.”
She hesitated, then turned off the television. “I’d like that.”
“I thought books might get your attention.”
“It’s the chance to wander and browse that I like the most.”
He drove them to the ferry going across Puget Sound rather than drive down to the Tacoma Bridge. Once aboard, they climbed to the upper deck, and Bishop handed Gina a sandwich he’d had packed in his fishing cooler. She leaned against the rail and took a bite. He suspected she’d be tossing bread scraps to the birds if she wasn’t hemmed in by dozens of other passengers.
“Melinda and I used to make this voyage a couple times a month,” he mentioned, opening the wrapper on his own sandwich. “She’d go to wander the clothing shops, and I’d spend a few hours with a college buddy, climbing the rock wall at the Gate Ridge gym. She and I would meet up for lunch, then wander along the waterfront like tourists. Or some weekends we’d go the other direction, head to Olympic National Park and spend the day hiking together.”
“You climb?”
“Talk about it, practice, but rarely actually go. If Melinda’s schedule was free, I’d rather simply hike with her. We became bird watchers—or more accurately, animal watchers. She would count squirrels, give herself points for rabbits, raccoons, deer”—he smiled—“and complain if I was making too much noise, scaring the wildlife away.”
“She liked the outdoors?”
“She learned to. At first she humored me and came along because she enjoyed the long conversations we would have. But she came to love the outdoors nearly as much as I do. The last years without her—I’ve climbed a few times, and done some serious hiking, but I’ve outgrown my inclination to see how difficult a terrain I can master. I’ve become more a fisherman.”
“Did you blame God after Melinda died?”
He looked over at her, surprised. “Interesting question.”
“I’m sorry. It’s prying. I shouldn’t have asked.”
He rested his forearms against the railing, mirroring her stance. “It’s all right. A car accident killed Melinda, not God.”
“You weren’t mad?”
“A deeper emotion than that, I think. I was devastated. Mostly that God had known it was coming, and that He hadn’t warned me. I regretted how much time I’d wasted that last year doing less important things than being with Melinda.”
He searched to find the right words. “You’ve lost people important to you, Gina, so you know what that rip feels like in your life. What I wished for most of all was to have had more of the good before the crushing hard years came, before I was dealing with the grief. I was mad at God for that, that I hadn’t been able to have just one more day, just one more memory, before it was over.”
“Your memories are good ones.”
“They are,” he agreed. “I haven’t idealized those years, just remembered the good and forgotten the hard. As I look back, they were on the whole very good years—almost a decade. Nothing since has been as enjoyable. There have been great experiences. Commanding the Nevada has been wonderful. But life overall has never been as good as those years I was married.” He pulled himself out of the reflection to look over at her. “Why do you ask?”
“You seem . . . I don’t know, you talk comfortably about Melinda, about your life, and seem content. I don’t think I’ve ever had that. There are always pieces missing that seem to be overwhelming holes in my life.”
“Contentment is a choice, I’ve discovered. You have to accept reality to have contentment, even if you wish that reality would change. You’re single, Gina, and you don’t want to be. You don’t want to accept it.”
“Maybe it is that.”
Bishop smiled. “No one says you had to live life the easy way, Gina. God would rather you be at peace with circumstances, but it’s not the end of the world to realize you’re having to struggle. Maybe that’s what gives you determination to keep trying to change your life.”
“As long as it doesn’t lead to a bad decision just for the sake of making a change.”
He heard something in her words that had him turning to fully look at her. “What’s going on with you and Daniel? Something in your voice keeps sounding slightly worried when you’re talking about your life. Spill it. What’s going on?”
It was a long time before she answered. “I would like to be the one who is a good wife for him. He’s a wonderful guy. But I’m worried I’m not the right wife for him.”
Her words once more surprised him. “Why not?”
“I don’t like the water, for one thing, and that’s where his relaxation and restoration comes from—surfing, water-skiing, boating. And his passion is music. He loves listening to it, playing his guitar, being around musicians and what they’re creating. I can appreciate it, but I don’t share it that way. He needs someone who shares at least one of those passions, either the water or the music. I’m not a good fit for Daniel, for what he needs.” She looked over at him, questions in her gaze. “Not going to say it’s not a concern?”
“I’m impressed that you realize it should be a concern,” Bishop replied. He rested back against the railing, thinking over what she’d said.
Gina shifted so the wind would blow her hair back from her face rather than across it. “I’d love to think I could adapt and be comfortable in that world of musicians, be a good hostess as friends and family came to enjoy the beach and the boating. I want to be that person. But there is nothing in my history that says I am. Is the wish to be different on my part strong enough to adapt, to meld the differences?”
Bishop ignored her question for the moment to ask one of his own. “What are your must-not-haves?”
“He can’t drink, smoke, be financially irresponsible, have a roving eye, or a history of letting people down.”
He smiled at the concise list. She was pretty good at first principles.
“He’s got the majority of my must-haves,” she continued. “He loves God, is close to his family, has a kindness that runs deep. I can trust him. The problem isn’t with Daniel. The shortcomings are with me. His hobbies, his recreation and entertainment, often happen on or in the water, surfing, boating, water-skiing. If that isn’t on his must-have list—finding someone who shares his enjoyment of the water—it should be.”
“Why don’t you like the water?” he asked.
“It’s powerful. It’s relentless. It erodes the shorelines. It pounds rock into sand. It kills people when it’s violent—storms and tsunamis and rogue waves. It takes your breath away and you drown.”
“You’re afraid of it.”
“Bas
ically,” Gina replied with a nod.
Bishop tried to figure out what to say. He should have known if he opened the door, she’d take it, and it left him in a quandary. By the time this conversation was over, he was going to be helping Daniel with the answer. Yet it would be better for Gina if he gave her the nuanced answer she needed to hear rather than the simple one that might help him.
“In a good marriage, you have to share some interests in life,” he began, “but not all of them. You work around the ones you don’t have in common. Daniel’s enjoyment of the water, and your caution of it, is a big one to work around, but it’s possible. I think you could learn to share his appreciation of music—the compositions, the structure of the music, the way the instruments work in harmony. There are interesting pieces to explore that you’d enjoy. Shared interests are part of what makes a relationship work. If you’re totally different in how you prefer to spend your leisure time, it’s hard for a marriage to thrive. You’re right to understand that.”
He studied her face, trying to read her expression. “Daniel may not consider love for the water to be on his must-have list, Gina. He could be perfectly content with you coming down to the dock, helping him around the boat, and then waving from the shore as he takes off with friends to water-ski for a couple of hours while you relax on the beach with a book. It may be simply a wish-for on his part, not a requirement. Have you talked with him about it?”
“Not yet.”
“You need to. There’s always a tension between who you are versus who you want to be. It’s one of the most powerful emotions driving people. But you can’t build a good future on the hope you’ll become something different once you’re married. It doesn’t work that way.”
“If I end a relationship with a great guy simply because he loves the water and I don’t, I’m probably going to regret it for the rest of my life.”
Bishop understood her point. “There’s no perfect fit, Gina. There’s only ‘good enough.’ Figuring out where that love of water falls on the list is going to be a nuanced problem to sort out. But you’re wise to realize it’s there. Most people can’t name the concerns before they get married and then wonder at the collision that comes after the ceremony. You need to get this right. Because a bad marriage is much worse than being single.”