Undetected (30 page)

A
dusting of snow covered the ground, but Chicago had yet to get its first December winter storm, and the evening was mild. Four months and eight days since refit and the 90-day patrol began. Gina had been the first thought when he woke up, the last before he slept. Mark parked in her driveway, retrieved his jacket on the passenger seat, picked up a single orchid. Gina was on the front porch in a light jacket, working on a potted plant set on a tall stand. She looked up and smiled, lifted a hand in welcome when he got out of the car, but otherwise she stayed focused on her task. She'd turned on the porch lights as the evening light was beginning to fade.

She might be engaged by now. She might be going to turn down his proposal, and this time Daniel wouldn't be there to run interference. Regardless of what was coming, Mark was going to treasure what he could of the evening in case it was his last with her.

Her smile and hello were a bit tentative. He would have given her a hug, but he responded in kind. He stayed at ground level and rested his arms across the stair railing, working to
maintain a relaxed posture while she finished up rescuing the plant.

He loved her. It took no more than the sight of her and that smile for the emotions to turn his chest tight.

“I planned to be ready early, and instead I'm way behind schedule,” she said.

“That's okay. I take it you weren't the one to knock over the plant?” Her front door was open, and there were two half-grown kitten faces and a puppy looking out through the glass of the storm door.

“The three chased each other into the sunroom where I had this plant. The cats dashed behind the pot, and the puppy got to taste dirt before his body stopped. I think the cats were smirking about that.”

Mark smiled. “Poor little guy. What's his name?”

“Your niece named him Pongo, and I've found it has kind of stuck.”

“Pocket, Pages, and Pongo. You've got a pattern going.”

“I do.” She pulled off her work gloves.

There wasn't a ring on her left hand. He felt some of the pressure in his chest ease. “How are you doing, Gina?” he asked.

“That's a rather long answer.” She stored the potting soil, trowel, and extra pot in the closet at the end of the porch and picked up her rescued plant. “Come on in, Mark.”

He followed her inside.

Mark picked up one of the half-grown kittens, watched the puppy with feet too big for his body tug at a tattered piece of fabric on which the other cat was lying. The cat
flattened its ears and hissed, but didn't take a swipe as the puppy pushed its face into hers. Familiarity. They were playing together, of a sort.

Gina's home had lost the neatness seen during his last visit, and small changes had appeared: large, heavy pottery by the front door, a new coatrack, another bookshelf in the living room. From the look of things, she'd mostly been living on this main level. There was a sweater tossed over the couch arm, a stack of mail on the coffee table, Post-it notes beside the television remote, work papers and a writing board beside one of the wingback chairs. A laptop had been placed on the coffee table. She'd gone into the kitchen and found a tall vase for the orchid and risked placing it on that same coffee table, then retreated to get them both drinks.

Mark glanced up as Gina reentered the room carrying two glasses of iced tea. She'd left the room not just for the drinks, he thought, but to give herself a few more moments of space. Her words and smile might have been calm and welcoming, but it wasn't the full story. She hadn't been sleeping well. The dark circles under her eyes had the look of being weeks in the making.

This was a woman who was uncomfortable, and his silence was making her even less comfortable. But he didn't know what to say. He needed to get a read on what she was thinking before he could figure out what direction to go with his comments. She settled on the couch across from him. He sipped the iced tea she'd handed him and waited.

“Daniel and I talked a lot before he departed on patrol,” she said quietly. “Before this evening continues, you need to know that he and I are no longer dating.”

He hadn't expected that.

“I don't love him. I wish I did. I wanted to,” she admitted. “I wanted desperately for that final piece of the equation to fall in place. I finally had to accept it wasn't going to happen.”

“That had to be a very tough decision for you . . . for him.”

“It was painful for both of us.” She rested her arm along the back of the couch. “But deciding he isn't the one isn't the same as deciding you are.”

“I accept that, Gina.”

“I flew back to Bangor to tell you no, the day after you proposed. Daniel talked me out of it.”

“I know that too. And now?”

She lifted one shoulder. “I'm not sure of anything about us. I'm trying my best to keep an open mind. I'm not trying to be difficult, Mark. I just don't know what to think, what to do.”

“Gina, go back some months to before you came to Bangor. What were you praying for?”

“To find a husband.”

“You've found one.”

She shook her head slightly, rejecting his calm assurance.

“I accept your emotions are all over the place right now,” he continued. “Answer me this. Would you be willing to spend some time with me, let us date seriously? Would you be willing to give us some time together for you to get to know me better?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”

“I've got 28 days of leave. I'll be in Chicago for as much of it as you would like me to be. I packed so I'd be able to stay.”

“I didn't expect that.”

“I'm not telling you that to put pressure on you, Gina. Just that I think time together will be easier for you when it's on your own turf. I made a list while I was on patrol—things
you and I could do together. You can choose as many items from that long list as you like for the next month. Or add some of your own.”

He studied her face, wishing he better knew her expressions and could interpret what she might be thinking. “Talk to me. Just start somewhere and tell me what you're thinking about me, about us. Give me some sense of the ground you're standing on.”

“I still lean toward saying no,” she replied carefully, meeting his gaze. “I do admire you. You're a man who bears responsibility well. You're a leader and well respected. You had a good marriage. I trust you. I respect your advice. You're gentle with me—I think you see me and understand me better than most people. I enjoy our conversations very much. In many ways you fit me better than Daniel. You have a quieter, more peaceful personal life.

“But the truth is, Mark, I'm too young for you. I'm chaos-writ-large at times. I'm emotionally needy. I'm unsure of myself. I'm not like Melinda. You need someone who has her life together. Mine keeps falling even further apart. There's the possibility of you becoming the top submarine guy in the Navy one day. You need someone with more social strengths, more people skills, to help with your career. I'd be a liability rather than a help. I don't bring much useful to the table as your wife. ”

He waited a moment to give her carefully thought-out statements some room. “Gina, I'd like you to see yourself through my eyes—”

“I don't want to spend my life feeling that gap I can never close,” she put in, “between what you need and who I am.”

He agreed with about half her statement. “Marriage is
an interesting proposition, Gina,” he finally said. “It's a relationship, a friendship, along with a rich, deep level of intimacy. It's a lot of things, dreaming together, planning a future together.”

“I'd spend my life leaning against you, hoping you could get me out of whatever latest troubles I've gotten myself into.”

“Your ideas and discoveries.”

“Yes.”

He smiled. “I was kind of looking forward to that part, Gina. I love how your mind works. I like responsibility—thrive on it. I could buffer some of what comes because of those discoveries, work out who should know what and when. Figure out the downsides and how to deal with them. We'd be a good team.”

He pulled a folded sheet out of his shirt pocket. “I wrote you a letter while on patrol. I actually wrote you several, but this is the first and most important one. I'd like you to read it.” He handed it to her. She hesitated a while before opening it. He knew the words, having thought about and read them over many times.

Gina, I once told you I would do my best not to steer you wrong. I'm still honoring that. I think you should get married because it's something you have dreamed about, looked forward to, since you were a young girl. I also honestly think I'm the right guy for you to marry.

I've been married before, and it was a good experience. I know this terrain. Now it's you I want in my life, you I want to build a new marriage with. I want to share breakfast with you, listen to what's got you fascinated, and find ways to make you laugh. I want to show you
places I've been, introduce you to people I know. I want to make a home with you, and fill it with things we both enjoy. I'd like to spend the rest of my life loving you. I know you and I can sort it all out to have a good marriage, one we both find meets our deepest needs. Take a chance on me, Gina. You won't regret it. Be my wife.

Yours, Beloved.
Mark

She read it, read it again, and he simply waited. “It's a lovely letter,” she whispered.

“I'm convinced you're the one for me, Gina, and I also believe I'm the one for you. I love you. Share your life with me. Let me share mine with you. Whatever is necessary to reach the point where you can make that decision, ask it, work it through with me.”

She didn't answer him, just sat looking at the page. She finally wiped her eyes. “You're too far ahead of me, Mark. I can't think in terms of marrying you. Not yet. Even if you're right, the timing is wrong.”

“Gina . . .” Mark hesitated. “Do you realize you're afraid to get married?” he asked gently. “Daniel would have been a good choice for you. I'm a good choice. When you find there are none of your must-not-haves and all of your must-haves, it's time to say yes. I love you. And I'm confident you'll love me well in return if you let yourself take the step. Say yes and marry me. Your doubts are real, but they won't survive first contact with reality.”

She bit her lip. “Your certainty about this surprises me, Mark.”

“I didn't ask you to marry three months ago because I somehow wanted to outdo Daniel. I asked because I love you, and I can see a very good future for us.”

She said nothing, and he shifted the discussion slightly. “When my command of the
Nevada
ends, I'm not opposed to Chicago as our home base. I've got family here. I like the area. You don't have to consider returning permanently to Bangor. If you prefer to work in California, there are nice options for where to settle there. I'm not expecting you to give up who you are—the work, the continued pursuit of degrees and new subjects, the somewhat nomadic way you go from project to project. I just want you to share your life with me and let me share mine with you. I want to build something that is
us
.”

He let the silence last more than a minute before he added, “I know this all sounds like a full-court press, even to me, but the reason I'm so certain about this is what I see in your face. You're afraid to seize your dream. Are you able to recognize that, Gina? The panic that came after my proposal, your decision to turn down Daniel—you want so much to be married, yet you fear failing and it's keeping you from accepting that this time a relationship will succeed.

“This is that moment, Gina.” He leaned forward in his chair. “All you need to do is trust me, and reach for that dream. It's right here. A good marriage. Someone who loves you more than you can yet know. All you have to do is say yes.” He watched the play of expressions across her face. “You will not be a disappointment to me. I see you clearly, I understand you. I'm not going to steer you wrong. I'm the guy.”

“You don't know enough about me to say that, Mark.”

He could hardly hear her words, her whisper was so faint.
“I know enough that I can be the husband you need. You're the wife I want. I'm certain of that.”

She got up from the couch, walked to the window, looked out at the night that had descended. He waited for her to make a comment, to give him a sense of what she was thinking. Instead she simply stood there, silent. She finally turned. “I need to tell you no, but it hurts too much to do that. Yet the longer this goes on the more hurt we're both going to feel later. Time isn't going to make things any easier.”

“Why do you need to tell me no, Gina?” he asked quietly.

“I'm in trouble.”

Her words made him blink, and tension coiled through his body. “Did something happen with Daniel—?” He stopped as she immediately shook her head.