Copyright
HE OUGHT TO be used to funerals by now. He’d been to enough of them over the years that he expected his grief to be numbed, reduced to a dull ache.
Marine Captain Gabriel T. Pennington drew a deep breath of the warm evening air. In the distance, he heard the sound of a fighter jet, taking off from Miramar, and he looked up at the sky, searching for the vapor trail in the late-afternoon light.
This was a different kind of grief, though. Deep and powerful, like a wound that wouldn’t heal. He’d lost his best friend, a guy he’d known for a decade. And unlike the other funerals he’d attended, this one wasn’t followed quickly by a return to active duty and the strange rhythms of a war zone to occupy his thoughts.
He cast his gaze across the wide lawn, his eyes fixed on an old shed set on the rear of the property. It had been two weeks since they’d laid Marine Captain Erik Jennings to rest and Gabe was still looking for something to ease the ache inside him. Perhaps this was it.
The shed door rattled as he drew it aside along a rusty runner. The light switch was beside the door and Gabe flipped it on, then squinted against the harsh glare from a bare bulb.
The familiar lines of the sleek wooden sloop were visible, even when hidden by the dusty tarp. He pulled the canvas cover aside, revealing a sailboat sorely in need of some tender loving care. Running his hand along the faded bright work, Gabe smiled to himself, remembering the late nights they’d spent working on the boat.
Erik had bought the old sloop with money he and Annie had received for their wedding five years before. He’d named it the Honeymoon and convinced Annie that one day he’d leave the military behind and sail her around the world. To most people, it might have looked like a lark, but to Erik and Annie, the boat had been an insurance policy, a promise that they’d have a happy future together, even if the military kept them apart.
Gabe and Erik had been friends since their plebe year at the naval academy. Ten years of friendship that had taken them to the far side of the world and back, Gabe as a Marine helicopter pilot based out of Camp Pendleton, and Erik as a Marine F-18 pilot out of Miramar, call signs Angel and Breaker.
They’d come from opposite coasts of the country, Erik from San Diego, the son of a surgeon and a socialite, and Gabe from Portland, Maine. His father was a lobsterman and his mother taught school. They’d arrived at Annapolis with two goals in mind—graduating first in their class and nabbing a spot in Marine Aviation School immediately after that. Their choice of the Marine Corps had put them in the minority among the sailors at the naval academy, but it had bonded them as brothers.
Gabe had been Erik’s best man at his wedding to Annie Foster, and now a pallbearer at his funeral. Was that full circle? he wondered. Somehow, it seemed as if Erik would never have a chance to finish his circle.
Death had become an accepted part of military life, at least at this point in time. And yet the loss of a friend, a subordinate or even a soldier he’d never met had become harder and harder to rationalize.
Erik had been doing what he loved. He was a patriot. He gave the ultimate sacrifice. All of the words rang hollow when Gabe realized that he’d never see his best friend again. They’d never share a few laughs over a beer. They’d never joke their way around a golf course or work late into the night on a moldy old sailboat.
“What are you doing out here?”
Gabe opened his eyes to find Annie standing in front of him. Her eyes were red and she clutched a wadded handkerchief in her hand. Even in her state of grief, she was more beautiful than he remembered. His fingers clenched with an instinctive urge to reach out and touch her, to smooth his hand across her cheek.
Gabe smiled and shrugged. “I just wanted to take a last look.”
“Last look?” she murmured, then took a ragged breath. “You got your orders?”
He nodded. “This morning. I’m headed back to Afghanistan.” Gabe forced a smile. He had always been happy to get his orders, to have a purpose to his life. But not this time.
Annie nodded. “It’s time you get back to your own life. It’s been two weeks. Although I’ve appreciated all your help with sorting and packing, I can get along fine on my own.”
“I know you can,” Gabe said.
“I’m glad you do, because I’m not so sure. I keep trying to catch my breath, but it just...hurts.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “I’m trying to be strong, but I can’t do it. I’m just so...angry.”
“You’re allowed to feel whatever you feel,” Gabe said.
“It was a training exercise,” Annie said. “Would I feel differently if he’d been shot down over Afghanistan? At least I’d have an enemy to blame. Who do I blame now?”
“It was an accident,” Gabe said. “There’s no one to blame.”
“They think it was pilot error,” Annie countered.
Gabe gasped, frowning as he met her gaze. “Is that what they told you? I hadn’t heard.”
“They’ve just started the investigation, but they warned me that the report might come back as pilot error. They wanted me to be prepared.”
“No way,” Gabe said, shaking his head. “Erik was a great pilot. He didn’t make mistakes. He was a fanatic about safety, and there isn’t another pilot in the US Marine Corps who could pull himself out of an emergency situation better than Erik.”
Annie dabbed at her nose with the handkerchief and nodded, his words seeming to bring her some sort of comfort. She slowly circled the boat, running her fingertips along the blue fiberglass hull. “Look at this raggedy thing,” she said. “I must have been crazy to say yes when he told me he wanted to buy it.” Annie looked over at him. “You wouldn’t want to buy a sailboat, would you?”
Gabe shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“I suppose I’m going to have to sell it.”
“You’ve got some time to decide,” he said.
Annie shook her head. “I have decided. I’m going back home,” she said. “My parents asked if I wanted to take over the sailing school, and I said yes. There are just so many memories here, I’m not sure I could bear it.”
Silence descended over the interior of the shed as she continued to circle the sailboat. As Gabe watched her, his mind wandered back to the very first time he laid eyes on her. He and Erik had a weekend pass and had wandered along the waterfront in Annapolis, only to find themselves in the middle of the victory celebrations for a sailboat race. Annie had captained the winning boat, and as was the custom, her crew had thrown her into the water.
“You looked like a drowned rat,” Gabe murmured.
She glanced over her shoulder, and his heart stopped. The way the light framed her face, the soft wave of pale hair that fell across her cheek. Her beauty took his breath away.
