so quick you’d miss her if you didn’t keep your eye on her. She read a book every day or two and was so smart she had her teachers scrambling for material, trying to stay one step ahead of her.
And Grace. The architect of it all. She built this family brick by brick, fashioned it out of hard work and a vision he hoped like hell they both shared. In the upheaval of the move this summer and taking on his new duties, he’d barely had time to sit down and talk to her about anything.
She used to make time, carving a quiet half hour out of the day so they could discuss whatever was on their minds. He’d never told her how grateful he was for that; he figured she knew. But lately, even she’d been sucked into the breakneck pace of their lives, and those half hours had fallen by the wayside. He missed their time together, but didn’t know how to tell her so.
It wasn’t his fault, and it sure as hell wasn’t hers, but a hairline fissure had appeared in their marriage, seemingly out of nowhere. Or so he thought. He was almost afraid to mention it for fear of giving it a name and making it real. But he had to trust that things were fine, or nothing else in the world made sense. Grace was different from women who walked away from Navy men. She wasn’t going to bail on him.
He stabbed his fork into a second helping of chicken. “There’s a barbecue at the Crowthers’ next Sunday,” he said. “The whole family’s invited.”
“I’m busy,” Katie declared.
“I’ve got practice,” Brian said.
He noticed Emma had no objection. The Crowther boy was her age, and he’d called at the house a couple of times, looking for her. “The whole family,” he repeated. “He’s the CAG, and he wants everybody to have a good time.”
“Then he should count us out,” Katie said.
“Maybe buy us tickets to a Mariners game,” Brian suggested. “That’d be a good time.”
“You don’t have to stay long,” Grace explained in her ever-patient tone. But even she sounded a little weary of social obligations. She used to love dressing up, going to official functions and informal gatherings. “Just say hi and eat some barbecue and take notes, because—”
“Because next year, Dad’s going to be the CAG,” Katie finished for her.
“Such a bright child,” Grace said with a wink.
“I heard Mrs. Crowther is a Grade-A, certified b—uh, pill,” Katie said in a gossipy tone. “Brooke Mather says she has these horrible teas and stuff for the wives, and gets all mad if you don’t come. And my friend Rose Marie says that in the winter, you can’t wear a fur to any function, because Mrs. Crowther doesn’t have a fur.”
“Even if it’s a really ugly fur?” asked Brian.
“That’s enough,” said Grace with a gleam of suppressed amusement. “We’ll all go, and we’ll be terribly polite and charming and they’ll think the Bennetts are the nicest family in the Navy.”
Steve had been dealing with Crowther all day, and he yearned to change the subject. He turned to Brian. “So have you had a chance to look at the admissions packet from the Academy?” he asked.
“You bet,” Brian said. “I can’t wait to roll up my sleeves and start filling in all those bubbles with a number-two pencil.”
Steve grinned to hide a twinge of annoyance at his son’s sarcasm. Brian was a star athlete with bright prospects, yet he spent every spare minute creating intricate, almost hyperrealistic drawings of some fantasy world. He claimed to be working on a graphic novel, which was beyond Steve’s comprehension. Still, Brian had a serious desire to excel, and Steve hoped he’d choose to do it at the Naval Academy.
“It’s a little early in the year to burn out on the application process,” he pointed out.
“I looked at that stuff,” Emma said. “It’s not that different from a regular college application.”
“Except for the blood test, urinalysis, dental X rays, physical aptitude exam…” Brian counted them off on his fingers. “Oh, and they’re not going to like my tattoo and body piercings one bit.”
“What tattoo and body piercings?” Katie demanded, craning her neck to study her brother.
“The ones I might get one of these days,” he said. “Now that I’m eighteen, it’s all up to me.”
Clearly bored with her brother, Katie turned to Steve. “Can we get a dog?”
She had been asking all summer. She asked every summer, he remembered. “We’ve talked about this before. A family pet is—”
“One more thing to worry about,” Katie interrupted, exaggerating his Texas accent.
“It’s one more thing to love,” said Emma.
Steve and Grace exchanged a look. Both knew better than to take the bait. The conversation was in danger of turning into a squabble that had no resolution. With characteristic skill, Grace steered the topic around to other matters and brought the meal to a successful conclusion. She did this all the time, he realized, watching her pump Katie for details on the bike trip she’d made with her two new friends today. Grace smoothed out the wrinkles, anticipating trouble before it appeared.
“I’m proud of you for making friends so quickly this summer,” she told Katie.
“Like I have a choice,” Katie said.
“You don’t,” Grace said, getting up from the table. “None of us do.”
Maybe it was his imagination, but Steve sensed a subtle tension in the air. It was probably all in his head, he thought, watching Grace serve a dessert of strawberries in little glass bowls.
Sometimes he was so grateful for his family, it made his chest ache. That was the hell of having a job like his—he missed crucial moments in their lives. And even the periods of deepest contentment never lasted. But maybe, he conceded, the job made them sweeter, made him appreciate them more. Grace used to tell him so all the time, but she hadn’t mentioned it lately.
After dinner, the kids got ready to go out. Steve could hear Brian and Emma upstairs arguing. The two of them shared the Bronco II, and if their plans for the evening didn’t happen to coincide, they sank into one of their legendary disputes. He wondered why, after all these years, they still bothered. It was a bit like shadowboxing.
The twins were so alike, blond and athletic, with identical blue eyes. They had the sort of looks older women fussed over in grocery stores. When they were little, Grace used to push them around in the “double wide,” a dual stroller she took everywhere. By the time Katie came along, that stroller had a lot of miles on it. Katie occupied a sling-like compartment in the rear of the contraption. She was such a quiet, unobtrusive little soul. One time—Grace swore it was only once—she had actually set her diaper bag on top of the baby, having forgotten until a little kitten mew of distress alerted her.
The expected squabble subsided without intervention, and Steve let out the breath he’d been holding. The twins had entered a phase of their relationship in which they were starting to like each other on a selective basis. Perhaps as the concept of leaving home became ever more
