Forget Me Not (11 page)

The call had plunged Gabe into such a bleak mood that Mallory had steered clear of him all morning.

Finally she sought him out with the offer to show him where Helen worked. Remembering what he'd done to his wife the night before, Gabe recognized that he owed her an apology. He didn't want Mallory thinking he was a coward, so here they were.

"Wanna do this one?" she asked him as they ran, huffing, up to the next exercise station.

They'd tackled all the others. This station consisted of two wooden platforms, one flat and one inclined, for stretches and curl-ups respectively. "No way," be said. "The bench is warped on this side. It kills your spine to do sit-ups. Unless they fixed it." He jogged closer to get a look. "No, see, it's still warped."

"You remember that?" Mallory marveled.

"Guess so." He fell back into step beside her, lungs bumming from the last mile or more that they'd already covered. His lack of endurance dismayed him. He'd obviously kept up calisthenics during confinement, but there were very few substitutes for a good hard run. "You tired yet?" he asked Mallory.

"No."

He glanced at her sidelong. Her cheeks were flushed. Sweat stained her T-shirt, and her fists were clenched. She was tired. But she was too competitive to admit it.

Damn, she reminded him of himself. "Well, I am," he admitted. "You want to walk for a while?"

She reined herself in at once and reached for him to slow him down. "You should've said so earlier!" She pushed a wedge of black hair out of her eyes and scowled at him. "Are you sure you're supposed to exercise?" she demanded.

"Absolutely. Exercise is the—"

"—key to longevity," she finished for him.

They smiled at each other, and a funny feeling washed through Gabe. He'd been a part of Mallory's life, and he couldn't remember it. According to Helen, he'd ignored his stepdaughter.

Recalling his fanatic drive to succeed, he believed it. But it wasn't just his quest for excellence that had kept him from cozying up to Mallory. It was his fear of failure. What did he know about parenting a daughter? His only father figure had been Sergeant O'Mally, a cop.

But some time between last year and now, Gabe must have understood what it meant to be Mal's father. He couldn't remember when the insight had come, or how; he only knew he wasn't afraid to parent her now. He could be there for her in a way that was meaningful and lasting. He probably wouldn't be a perfect dad, but he'd be good enough.

To his great fortune, Mal was willing to give him a second chance. He enjoyed her spunk, her sense of humor. He'd be happy to hang out with her all day.

"So, Mal," he began as the path took a turn around the comer. He was about to ask what things had been like between them.

She looked at him quizzically.

The words stuck in his throat. He didn't want to jeopardize the present by bringing up the past. "Er—" He thought of something else to ask her. "What's Mom's job, exactly?"

"She's the Fitness Coordinator," Mallory said, with obvious pride.

"Okay, so what's that mean?"

"She has her own office, and she doesn't just sweat."

Mal's response confused him further. "What do you mean, 'just sweat'?" he asked for clarification.

She gave him a quick little frown. "An officer's wife shouldn't have to sweat for a living," Mallory added, repeating something she'd obviously overheard. "But she doesn't just sweat. She organizes the marathons and the basketball tournaments—everything. She orders equipment and trains new people. She's the boss."

The boss, Gabe thought with no small amount of respect "That's awesome," he said, meaning it.

Mallory gave him an approving smile. "I think so," she agreed.

He wanted to hug her so bad it scared him. He settled for a hand on her shoulder, relieved when she didn't shrug it off. They continued their walk in silence, the warm sun in their eyes and the murmur of the ocean behind them.

Dam Neck was a beautiful base. The usual nondescript, brick buildings were well spaced, separated by groves of bayberry bushes, walkways, little footbridges. It was also a wildlife refuge for white-tailed deer, gray foxes, rabbits, and assorted seabirds. Gabe wasn't in any hurry to be reassigned. He had a home on the ocean and worked on a fabulous base. What more could a warrior want?

Besides his job back?

And a wife who loved him?

Despair tugged at him anew. If he could just remember the last three years, then he'd be stricken from disability and given his job back. On the other hand, given the horror of last night's memories, he wasn't sure he could handle any more just yet. The niggling fear that the past would come back to bite him was still with him today. He could feel it lurking like the mother of all crabs.

Or was he paranoid now, like those Vietnam vets who suffered imaginary fears?

He hoped not. As long as he could help it, PTSD wouldn't drag him down any farther than it already had.

They approached the gym by cutting through a minimall of shops: barbershop, flower shop, bank, and food court. The recreation area was new. Gabe peered curiously inside.

"They've got Ping-Pong tables, foosball, and video games, now," Mallory pointed out. "It's all new."

"Cool," said Gabe. "Let's come here one night with Mom."

Mallory's face lit up, and he knew he'd said the right thing. Being a father wasn't all that hard.

"This way." She led him out the back door, through a courtyard and up the steps to the gym.

Gabe realized his palms were sweating and not from his run, either. He hoped Helen had forgiven him. The second they entered the two sets of doors, he could hear her voice. Even using a sound system, she sounded as though she were recovering from a weeklong flu.

"Flexibility," she was saying, "is the most important component of physical fitness."

"What's wrong with Mom's voice?" Mallory asked.

"IDs, please." Gabe was saved from answering as a female petty officer asked for their cards.

He fished his new ID out of his back pocket, hating the thought of himself on disability. Mallory had hers in hand. Curious, Gabe tried to peek at her picture, and she quickly hid it from view. "Oh, no," she warned. "It's gross. I was eleven."

"Let me see it." He tried his persuasive voice on her.

She gave him a look with her eyebrow raised.

It made him laugh out loud. "I'll see it sooner or later," he reasoned. "Might as well show it to me now."

She thrust it in front of his face. "Fine. There it is. Try not to vomit on my feet. Thank you." She whipped the ID away and shoved it into her shorts pocket.

Gabe grinned. At eleven, she'd looked like a boy.

They both turned toward the gym. But then Gabe thought better of it. "Let's not interrupt Mom's class," he said. "Let's go this way." He pointed toward the weight room.

In the weight room, he laid several mats on the floor, Mallory watched inquisitively.

"Now I'm going to teach you how to defend yourself," he said, rubbing his hands together.

"Mom already taught me," she replied.

Somehow, he wasn't surprised. "She did, huh? Well, let's see what she taught you. Maybe I can add on."

Mallory looked him up and down. "Most boys aren't as big as you," she pointed out, frowning.

Boys?
Mallory was on to him already. "Are you kidding? I'm scrawny right now," he retorted. "Suppose I just walk right up to you—come up onto the mat—and I grab your shoulders like this. What do you do?"

"I can do lots of things. I can break your nose." She showed him how. "Kick you in the groin, in the knee. Elbow you. If you were shorter I could make your eardrums explode."

Wow.
"Okay, different approach. Suppose you think of me as a friend. We're lying on the beach, looking at the stars." He gestured for her to lie on the mat beside him. "Suppose I all of a sudden roll over and pin you flat. Now what?"

He'd thrown a heavy leg over hers and pinned her shoulders to the mat. Mallory was helpless. She gazed up at him, frowning.

Tut, tut, Helen. You forgot the old slickeroo.

"One of your hands is free, right?" he pointed out. "You go for the eyes. Don't do it now, obviously, but if you ever have to do it, do it hard. Then get the heck out of there and start running."

Mallory gave him the tiniest of smiles.

"Now roll over," he instructed. "Suppose some creep pushes you facedown in the sand and he's about to jump on top of you."

"I roll out of the way?" she guessed.

"Too hard. You just got the air knocked out of you. Scrunch up on your right side and kick with your left foot."

Mal gave it a try.

"Lead with the heel," Gabe instructed. "Now do it again."

They worked their way through several more drills. Then Gabe began stringing them together.

Helen pushed her way into the weight room just in time to see Mallory kick Gabe in the knee, tug him to the mat, land a karate chop to the neck, and scramble out of harm's way.

They both spotted Helen at the same time.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, directing the question at Gabe.

His thoughts had scattered the moment he laid eyes on her. He sat up, using the edge of his T-shirt to wipe the sweat out of his eyes. She was wearing a skintight violet outfit with a high neckline, but despite the concealer she'd used to tone them down, me bruises on her neck were still obvious.

"He's teaching me some safety moves," Mallory answered for him.

"I already taught you those," Helen replied, an impatient glimmer in her eyes.

"Not everything," Mal protested. "Hey, what happened to your neck?"

"You might accidentally hurt her," Helen added, ignoring the question.

Mallory's eyes widened. "Did you hurt Mom's neck?" she asked in disbelief.

"It was a mistake, honey. I woke him up from a bad dream," Helen answered on Gabe's behalf. "What are you two doing here?" she finally demanded.

"I wanted to show Dad where you work," Mallory explained.

"Oh." Helen frowned as if the thought had never occurred to her. "You want a tour?" she asked.

"Sure." They both scrambled to their feet.

"Mal's not allowed in this room until she's sixteen, by the way," Helen added, turning toward the door.

"Ah," said Gabe.

"I could pass for sixteen," said Mallory airily.

"Come on. I'll show you the cardio room."

Gabe remembered the gym well enough: a weight room, two basketball courts, and an indoor pool. But the cardio room was new. He wandered in and looked around, impressed with the equipment. Several people were taking an early lunch hour and getting in a run on the treadmills. He didn't recognize a soul.

"Why do you have to be sixteen to run?" Mallory asked plaintively.

At the sound of her voice, a woman on the treadmill turned her head and nearly went flying off the machine. "Gabe!" she cried in surprise, catching herself. She powered off the treadmill and rushed him. "Oh, my God, you're alive!"

Gabe suffered her embrace and bemusedly met Helen's eyes over the woman's shoulder. The look in his wife's eyes made him blink.
She didn't think... ?

"Look at you!" the woman fawned, holding him at arm's distance. "You look great. I mean, you're thin, but you're alive, so who cares?" Her smile faded as she realized she was getting no response. She cut her gaze to Helen and released Gabe abruptly, apparently just noticing his family. "Hi, Helen," she said, her smile turning brittle. "Well, it's good to see you. Er, Luther and the others should be back any day now. I'll tell him to drop by."

Luther. Yeah, Luther Lindstrom, the ensign on his SEAL team—no, wait, he was a lieutenant now. "I'd like that," Gabe said as the pieces fell into place. This was the flirtatious secretary, Veronica, who worked in Spec Ops. She must be dating Luther now. He glanced at her left hand, dismayed to see a diamond winking there. What was the man thinking?

Veronica gave him a parting smile and sashayed back to the treadmill. Instead of resuming her workout, she gathered up her things, showing her backside to its best advantage.

Gabe looked at Helen, wary of her silence. "I think you need to leave now," she told him, her expression shuttered.

She couldn't be thinking what he thought she was thinking. Veronica wasn't an old flame of his, was she? He was beset by an image of her perched on the corner of his desk, hear skirt raised high enough to reveal a pair of black garters.

Uncomfortable with the memory, Gabe turned away. "Thanks for showing us around," he muttered, aware that he hadn't even apologized for last night. Fuck it, he could do nothing right!

He pushed his way out of the cardio room, depression ambushing him again. At this rate, he'd never, convince Helen he was worth keeping. He'd nearly killed her last night. Now she seemed to be accusing him of something.

Halfway down the hall, Gabe realized Mallory wasn't behind him. He paused at the water fountain and waited.

Still she didn't come. Helen stalked out of the cardio room alone, her expression tense.

"Where's Mal?" he asked, forgetting his own confusion for the moment.

"I let her out of the emergency exit. She said she didn't want to be with you right now."

She was definitely accusing him. Gabe blocked her path as she tried to move past him. "You let her go?" he asked.

"What was I supposed to do, force her to be with you?" The light of battle was back in her eyes.

"What the hell did you say to her?" he wanted to know.

"I didn't have to say anything. It was written all over your face."

"What was?" When she didn't answer, he demanded, "Are you saying I cheated on you?"

"Didn't you?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?"

With a sound of disgust, she pushed past him.

He caught her before she could take two steps. In fluid movement, he backed her against the wall. He felt the tension in every muscle of her body. "I suppose you're going to tell me now that you're not jealous," he prodded, pulling gently on her ponytail. He could feel Helen's breasts, full and firm, against his chest.
Ah, yes.