Semper Fi (6 page)

“I’m beginning to think they’re out of boats.”

Jim kept his gaze forward and whispered, “What?”

As they marched on in close order drill in the gray afternoon, backs ramrod straight, legs striding in unison to the DI’s cadence, Cal didn’t turn his head either. “The only reason they could possibly have for marching us around this much is that we’re walking to Japan.”

Lips twitching, Jim fought a smile. “Right through the ocean, huh?”

“Yep. This rain is just a warm-up for the real thing.”

“Plaatooon, halt!” Tyrell bellowed.

The men staggered to a stop, their rifles clattering together. Jim blinked the rain out of his eyes and waited to find out why Tyrell had stopped them. It could be safely assumed that the recruits had done something wrong. As always.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Tyrell slowly stride down the column of men, eyes sharp like a predator stalking its prey. Jim prayed he would pass Cal by just this once and pick on one of the other recruits. Not that Jim wished them any harm, but he hadn’t gotten to know them. Everyone knew that once their six weeks of training was through, their platoon would be scattered throughout the Corps. No sense in getting attached.

But it was different with Cal. As much as Jim wanted the time to go quickly so he could officially be a Marine—and not stuck in this purgatory—he dreaded the day he would no longer have Cal at his side to raise a sardonic eyebrow or give him a hand, strong and sure, when he struggled at the top of the climbing wall during PT.

“Forrrward march!”

As they set out again, it happened so quickly that Jim wasn’t sure if Tyrell tripped him or if Cal had unluckily stumbled. Jim could only catch the edge of Cal’s rain poncho for a moment before Cal sprawled forward in the mud, crashing into the man in front of him, who staggered but remained upright.

“Plaatooon, halt!”

Shouldering his rifle, Jim sank to his knees beside Cal, who sputtered, wiping mud from his face as he glared up at Tyrell looming over them.

Tyrell narrowed his gaze on Jim. “Recruit! On your feet!”

The words were out before Jim could stop them. “He could be hurt, sir.”

Jim had grasped Cal’s shoulder, but Cal shook him off. “I’m fine.” He hissed under his breath as he moved to his feet, “Get up!”

Clambering up as well, Jim stood at attention once more, eyes on the helmet of the man in front of him. They waited with bated breath for Tyrell’s next move. The freezing rain pelted down, and all else was silent. Jim tensed from head to toe, wondering if Cal was hurt. Cal seemed to be standing fine beside him.

Finally Tyrell spoke. Instead of his usual red-faced roar, he addressed Cal with an eerie calm. “This is what happens when you don’t stay in step, recruit.”

“Yes, sir.” Cal’s voice was flat.

“You’re filthy, recruit.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get out of that disgusting uniform.”

Cal hesitated. “Sir?”

With a swift intake of air, Tyrell unleashed at full volume. “Did I stutter? You’re a disgrace to this platoon! You’re not fit to wear that uniform, so get it off! On the double! Down to your skivvies!”

From the corner of his eye, Jim watched as Cal stripped, awkwardly shifting his rifle from arm to arm since he couldn’t dare put it down in the mud. He hopped on one foot as he struggled to yank off his trousers over his boots. Jim clenched his fists, pressing his arms to his sides.

Once Cal stood at attention again, Tyrell inspected him. He barked, “Pick up those revolting pieces of clothing. You think I’m gonna carry them back to the barracks for you?”

Cal did as he was told, balling up his uniform and tucking it under his arm. “No, sir!”

“Forrrward march!”

They were off again. Jim caught glimpses of Cal’s chest, the dark hair scattered across it matted down by the relentless, icy rain. As they marched on interminably, Cal began to noticeably shiver. Jim wanted to give him his own poncho and tell Tyrell to go to the devil, but knew it would only make things worse.

When they finally returned to the hub of the base, Marines laughed and hollered at Cal, whistling and breaking into a ribald song. Jim could see the stony set of Cal’s jaw as he ignored them. They were finally dismissed for an hour to write letters, but Cal headed straight to the head.

Although he was eager to write home, Jim followed. The empty shower room was large and open. Still in his muddy boots, Cal dropped his gear and clomped over to one of the showers and turned on the water. His soaked white briefs clung to his buttocks.

For some reason, group showers always made Jim strangely bashful and uncomfortable, even back in high school phys ed. He’d seen Cal and all the other recruits naked by this point, and didn’t want to be labeled a prude. Yet there was something about the sight of Cal in his boots and see-through skivvies that made Jim flush and turn away.

He realized Cal needed dry clothes, and hurried back to the barracks to retrieve Cal’s spare khakis and towel. When he returned, Cal still stood beneath the spray of water, his legs parted and arms braced against the wall.

Jim croaked, “Cal?” He cleared his throat. “You’d better get dressed. Tyrell’s likely to call off the personal time any minute and get us marching again.”

With a nod, Cal turned off the water. A crooked smile lifted his lips when he saw Jim holding his spare clothes. “Thanks.”

As Cal bent to unlace his boots, Jim made himself busy at the sink, scrubbing his hands even though they didn’t need it. In the chipped mirror, he glanced at Cal toweling dry and dressing. When Cal swore under his breath, Jim turned around. “Okay?”

“Damn buttons.” Cal had on his undershirt, but struggled with his uniform.

Jim stepped closer and realized Cal’s hands were shaking. He reached out and covered Cal’s fingers with his own, wincing when he felt how cold they were even after the shower. “Here. Let me.”

Although clearly wanting to argue, Cal lowered his arms to his sides. Jim inched closer, but found his own hands clumsy as he tried to fasten Cal’s shirt in the opposite way he was used to. “Wait, this’ll be easier.”

He moved behind Cal and reached around him, pressing against his back as he pushed each button through its hole. Cal seemed to be holding his breath, and didn’t move a muscle. When the last button was through, Jim stepped away and slapped Cal lightly on the back. “There you go. Ready for action.”

Cal mumbled a reply, his face flushed. Jim was relieved the shower and dry clothes had done the trick, and that Cal was warming up again.

“Jim?”

He glanced at Cal, who had walked back from the tree he was pruning and now eyed it critically. “Are these branches evenly spaced, or should I cut that little one off?”

From midway up his ladder, Jim gave the tree a once over. “Cut it off. It’s drooping too much. The branches should sort of look like the rungs of a ladder when you’re done.”

Cal nodded thoughtfully and took a gulp of water from his canteen after wiping his forehead. He’d taken off his jacket, and he and Jim both had their plaid work shirts rolled up at the sleeves. “Speaking of ladders, after those goddamn rope nets we had to climb to board the ships, I swore I wouldn’t get on another ladder even if you paid me.”

Jim remembered the treacherous climb after Guadalcanal, his limbs burning, the rope swaying and shifting as dozens of men scaled it. He gave the solid wooden ladder a pat. “These are a little easier to manage.”

Cal climbed his and whacked at the offending branch with his machete. “Good thing, or I’d be liable to take off my own hand if I was swinging around like we did on those ropes.”

Jim chuckled. He could always rely on Cal for a laugh. Not to mention all the other things he could rely on him for. Cal understood the nightmares and didn’t say a word in the morning light. Jim hadn’t felt so…settled in a long time. “Speaking of getting paid, we really need to discuss that.”

Ignoring him, Cal hacked away.

“I know you can hear me.”

“What’s that? Gone partially deaf. I was in the war, you know. Lots of explosions. Hell of a racket over there.”

“Har, har. Seriously, Cal. I’m paying you.”

Cal pointed up. “Hey, is that a hawk?” He whistled softly. “Look at that wingspan.”

Jim glanced at the bird soaring above the treetops. “Yes, it’s a hawk, and don’t change the subject.”

With a sigh, Cal faced him, propping one foot up on a low branch, the other firmly on the ladder. “I’m not taking your money.”

“Why not? You’re doing the work, fair and square. So you should be paid, fair and square.”

“I don’t need it. I have more money than I know what to do with. Put it aside for the kids. Send Adam off to college one day. Maybe even Sophie. It’ll do a lot more good that way. Just make sure they go to Princeton and not Yale.” He winked.

Jim contemplated the notion. He knew Cal was richer than the devil himself, and that any salary Jim could pay him would be hopelessly paltry. But it didn’t sit right, not paying a man for his work. “You need to be compensated. Even Mrs. O’Brien lets me give her a little every week. Fought me tooth and nail, but I wore her down.”

“I am being compensated!” Cal waved his arm around. “Look at this place. It’s paradise, Jim. Plus I’m getting room and board. I hated the bank. Sure, I had a lot more to do than before the war, but I’ll never really make my father happy.” He snorted. “Not until I get a wife and have a son to carry on the family name.”

“Well, that’s another thing. You aren’t going to meet many women around here.”

“On the contrary, my good man, just the other day I met a delightful woman who happened to ride up on her bicycle. Amazing cook.”

“Aside from being two decades your senior, Mrs. O’Brien is happily married.”

“Alas. Another heartbreak, but I’ll persevere.”

Jim chuckled. “But really, out here you aren’t going to meet anyone.”

“I don’t want to meet any women,” Cal muttered as he went back to the branch, hacking into it forcefully.

“You’re thirty now. Not getting any younger.” Jim kept his tone jocular.

“Oh, this handsome face will still be reeling ’em in for years to come, don’t worry.” He finished cutting through the branch with a flourish.

“I just hate to see you missing out.”

Cal climbed up a few rungs and went to work on pruning another branch. He didn’t meet Jim’s gaze. “I’m not missing out on anything. I’m exactly where I want to be.”

“But you’ll make a great father, Cal. And you wouldn’t believe how wonderful it is to have children. Until Sophie was born, I didn’t know I could love another person that much.”

“What about your wife?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Cal blanched. “I’m sorry. God. Forget I said that.”

The ever-present guilt churned Jim’s gut and dried his throat, but he kept his expression neutral. “Of course I loved Ann. She was a good woman.”

“Absolutely.” Cal ran a hand through his hair. “Geez, I’m sorry. I think I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Don’t listen to me. What the hell do I know about any of this stuff anyway?”

With his good looks and gift of gab, women had always flocked to Cal, but since Jim had known him, Cal had never kept a lady around for long. As they went back to work, Jim wondered if Cal had ever been in love.

“Pass the carrots.”

Jim shot Sophie a reproachful look. “Pass the carrots,
please.
”

She appeared ready to roll her eyes, and Jim’s grip on his fork tightened. He didn’t want to send her to bed without supper, but he’d had enough of her backtalk and attitude the past several months. Cal’s arrival had unfortunately made it worse.

But she apparently thought better of an eye roll and grudgingly muttered, “Pass the carrots please.”

Cal handed the dish over. “Here you go.” He smiled, but Sophie kept her eyes downcast.

They sat at the round table in the kitchen. Jim’s father had only used the dining room for special occasions, and Jim had kept up the tradition.

“This roast is delicious,” Cal said.

“Mommy’s was better.” Sophie was clearly intent on disagreeing with everything Cal said, no matter how innocuous.