Point of Departure Read online

  “I’m such a mess. The minute I go back in there, they’ll know I’ve been crying.”

  “Let them,” he growled. Caressing her hair, he said, “Callie, they’re going to go after you on this. I’m going to have to tell them the truth. Otherwise, the board will accept the hearsay of Thorson. You know that, don’t you?”

  She stood there feeling utterly naked and gutted by a world that really didn’t care that she had feelings, that she, ultimately, was a member of the human race. Numbness swept through her. The stormy color of Ty’s eyes told her so much that she reached out and touched his arm. There was such incredible tension within him, as if he were holding himself together so he wouldn’t explode.

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “I’m sorry….”

  “You shouldn’t be apologizing,” she whispered, and handed him back the damp handkerchief.

  He wanted to say more, but there was no time. “Tonight, after the hearing, I want you to come to my house. You need to be with someone for a little while. I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

  Rallying beneath his quavering voice, Callie nodded. “Okay, but I’m not going to be very good company.”

  “I don’t care.” He gripped her arm. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  From the patio of Ty’s home, they watched the sun set behind a bank of gray stratus clouds that were working their way toward the coastline. Callie had eaten very little—some salad, a few bites of the steak that he’d fixed for her earlier. The glass of wine soothed some of her emotional distress, but not much. Ty was quieter than usual, too, but Callie understood. The afternoon session at the hearing had been barbaric. Lewis had gone on to paint her as a woman who’d had a reputation for teasing men from the time she’d entered Annapolis. To prove it, he’d provided an affidavit signed by Lieutenant Ivers, who was now stationed in Pensacola, Florida. The “good ol’ boy” network was alive and well.

  Ty came back out to the patio after loading the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. Dressed in a comfortable, dark blue short-sleeved shirt and chino pants, he met and held Callie’s lifeless stare as he approached her lounge chair. She had changed into a pale pink sundress with a boat neck and white sandals. The picture of her was fetching—poignant.

  “I can’t believe you had twenty calls on your answering machine today,” he said, sitting down next to her.

  “I can’t, either. I’ll bet they’re from more women who had suffered sexual harassment.”

  Ty nodded and sat on the edge of the chair, his hands clasped between his thighs. “I just never realized the extent of the problem,” he murmured.

  “You couldn’t. You’re not a woman.”

  He took her comment with good grace, because she’d not flung it at him in anger. It was merely a statement, a sad statement, of fact. Holding her gaze, he said, “I haven’t done a very good job of defending you. I wish I could have done better, Callie.” Tomorrow morning, the board would convene and announce their decision regarding the charges.

  Reaching over, she touched his arm, aware of the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips. “I think, for not being a lawyer, you’ve done an incredible job on my behalf. Don’t be hard on yourself, Ty. I’m pleased. Isn’t that all that counts?”

  With a shake of his head, he captured her hand and brought it to his lips. “No,” he whispered, “it’s not,” and he kissed the back of her fingers. Ty allowed her to reclaim her hand, but continued to hold her gaze, which spoke of desire along with grief and pain. “They’re using you as a scapegoat. To put it in military lingo, they’ve gone beyond the line of departure with their dirty tricks and lies.”

  “Line of departure” was a military term referring to going beyond the point of no return. Remington and the other pilots, who, because they were Annapolis graduates, were supposed to honor the principles of truth and honesty, had veered away from that standard and lied. The regret in Ty’s voice was echoed in his face.

  “I’m ashamed to say I’m an Annapolis grad,” he told her quietly. “Those men don’t dignify the honor of what it’s supposed to mean. Officers and gentlemen don’t lie, they take it on the nose instead.”

  “You’re an idealist,” Callie said softly. “A white knight on a charger. Those days are gone, Ty. Truth, honor, dignity are parceled out by some men to others—but not across the board. There’s a gender war going on out there. I just got caught up in it and so did you.”

  With a heavy shake of his head, he muttered, “I can’t believe that the board will find them not guilty. My God, if they do…” He sat up, unable to comprehend such a decision.

  “If they do, and I think they will,” Callie said more strongly, “then it’s the navy’s way of sending the not-so-subtle message that zero tolerance against sexual harassment is a toothless tiger. A paper tiger, if you will. It looks and sounds good, and it’s great PR for the civilian world, but in reality, there’s nowhere for women in the service to get justice—to get the protection they deserve.”

  Ty suddenly stood up and he held out his hand to her. “Come on, let’s go to the beach. I don’t know how you feel, but I want to get away from this for a little while.”

  Without hesitation, Callie reached out, curling her fingers into his strong ones, and allowed him to pull her to her feet. Without a word, still holding hands, they walked through the house to the car parked in the driveway.

  A full moon was overhead, the Pacific Ocean smooth and glassy under its silvery radiance. The tide was out, and Callie walked slowly at Ty’s side, her hand in his. They were both barefoot, the damp sand squishing between their toes, the foamy waters gurgling and playing tag with them as they made their way down the curved stretch of empty beach. The salt air was fragrant and slightly curled Callie’s hair. The coolness was wonderful in comparison to Miramar’s dry desert heat.

  Tidal pools glowed like magical mirrors, and from time to time, Callie would lean down, her cotton dress gathering around her as she crouched to look at the moonlit beings who lived beneath the water. Ty would join her, his arm grazing her own and he would point to a slow-moving starfish, or they would appreciate the beauty of a flowerlike sea anemone that had opened its many tentacles to capture unseen plankton in the pool.

  “When I was a kid,” Ty told her in a low voice as they watched a starfish move slowly across one pool, “I used to dream of seeing the ocean someday.”

  “And what was your reaction when you did see it?” Callie asked as she looked at his deeply shadowed features. There was such serenity and strength in his face.

  Ty smiled at her. “The first time I saw it was when I visited the academy when I was seventeen. My parents took me to Chesapeake Bay and then over to the Atlantic Ocean on the other side. I was awed by the power of it, the beauty.”

  “I still am,” Callie admitted softly.

  Ty rose and brought her to her feet. Risking everything, he eased his arm around her shoulders. “You,” he admitted thickly, as he drew Callie to him, “are like the ocean, you know.”

  Callie felt the strength of his arm go around her, and she acquiesced to Ty’s need to hold her. She needed him, too, but was afraid to tell him so. Her hands came to rest against his chest, and their hips lightly touched. As she lifted her head to meet his dark, smoldering gaze, her lips parted. The crash of the surf, the roar of water touching and changing the shifting sand reminded her of herself with Ty Ballard. He was like the restless ocean, and she, the yielding sand beneath the force of it. As she met and drowned in his gaze, her breath caught. In that moment, she knew he was going to kiss her, and nothing had ever seemed so right to her.

  Closing her eyes, Callie rose to her tiptoes to meet his descending head. As his mouth swept against her own, she felt his power, felt his strength move against her lips with a certainty that set off a line of explosions through her reeling heart and body. The roughness of his beard, the salty male odor of his skin and caressing warmth of his breath washing across her face all co
mbined to lull her into a world where she was wanted, where she was indeed cherished. His arms moved slowly, easing around her body, pressing her fully against him, and Callie surrendered to Ty, to the safe harbor he was offering her.

  The world seemed to melt with each breath she took, with each hungry, exploratory touch of his mouth pressing urgently against her own. With each breath, she met and matched his hunger. As she lifted her lashes slightly, she saw the moonlight touching and caressing his rugged features, bathing both of them in a silvery radiance, as if blessing their kiss. The chilly coolness of the ocean was counterpoint to Ty’s warm breath and the heat of his mouth as he caressed her. Lifting her hands, Callie eased them along the planes of his face, delighting in the different textures of him as a man, reveling in the thought of his generous, giving heart. As her fingers tunneled through his thick, dark hair, she felt him tremble against her.

  Their breathing was ragged, their mouths devouring each other and their bodies fusing into a heady oneness that left Callie dizzy with need. Gradually, ever so gradually, just as the tide slowly retreated from the sand, Ty eased his mouth away from hers. His eyes were hooded, glittering with unspoken need of her, on every level. Her body tingled hotly as he stroked her shoulders, back and hips. As his mouth drew into a deep smile of satisfaction, her lips lifted in acknowledgment. And when he caressed her hair with his hands, completely absorbed in the touch and texture of her, Callie had never felt more beautiful or more desirable.

  “I think,” Ty rasped in a gritty voice, “that if we stay out here, we aren’t going to get the sleep we need to put us in good stead for tomorrow.” Callie’s hair was luxurious, and he ached to love her so thoroughly that she’d cry out with utter pleasure. Ty knew he could do that for Callie, but it was something that, if it did happen, was down the road. Just the sparkle in her eyes, the longing he saw in them, told him that she’d enjoyed the kiss just as much as he had. There were a lot of hurdles to overcome, however, and he knew that as never before.

  With a small laugh of frustration, Callie said, “I think you’re right.”

  Capturing her face between his hands, Ty looked deeply into her eyes. “But I’m not sorry for anything that happened. Are you?”

  She shook her head. “I never gave you a chance,” she admitted.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I thought you were like the pilots I’d had relationships with off and on through the years. I put you in the same mold, but this hearing has shown me you were different.”

  Ty eased his hands from her face, because if he didn’t, he was going to kiss her again. “Now that I understand what fuels your wariness, I can see why you did.” He rested his hands on her small shoulders—shoulders that remained strong and proud despite what life had dumped on her.

  “I was wary, wasn’t I?” She caressed his jaw, thrilled that he enjoyed her touch so much.

  “I always wondered why you were like a wild animal around me. You watched me a lot. I could see the distrust in your eyes. It makes sense why you never did trust me. I was an Annapolis graduate, too. I could have been just like the rest of those jerks who had hurt you before.”

  “But you weren’t like them. Over the past week I began to see that.”

  With a sigh, Ty gripped her hand and they began to walk back toward the parking lot. “Hell of a way to meet, isn’t it?”

  “Completely unexpected.”

  Ty drew her to a halt, his face very serious. “Listen, Callie, no matter what happens tomorrow morning, I want our relationship, what we have, to build. I don’t want it to end. Do you?”

  His honesty was refreshing. It wasn’t a line, either—Callie was certain. She squeezed his hand gently. “You’ve been my still center in this hurricane. You know that, don’t you?”

  “No, I never realized that’s how you saw me.”

  “You’ve been there for me since this began. You saved me from a beating I’m sure would’ve come if you hadn’t heard my screams. And when you were ordered to defend me, you could have backed out if you’d really wanted to.”

  “I did,” he admitted, “at first. I was worried what it might do to my career.”

  “And now?”

  “I don’t care. I care more about you. You’re worth fighting for, worth defending.”

  A delicious sense, like an ocean tide, moved through Callie. The sincerity in Ty’s gaze made her feel solid and prepared for whatever might happen tomorrow morning. “And what if I’m found guilty? You know my reputation will be destroyed. Will you still want to build on what we have?” Callie knew that fraternizing with her after the fact could, indeed, hurt Ty’s career. It wasn’t fair, but that’s how it worked in the navy.

  Stepping up to her, Ty brought her into his arms and held her hard against him. “Listen,” he breathed against her ear, “I know you’re not guilty. I don’t care what the board says. I’ve never walked away from truth in my life, and I’m not about to start now. If they make you a scapegoat, that won’t change my feelings for you, Callie. It never will.”

  The grim atmosphere in the hearing room left Callie’s hands sweaty and damp. Commander Newton had several papers in his hand as they reconvened. Callie sat tensely next to Ty. Dr. Marlene Johnson was only a witness and didn’t have to remain for the entire session wishing her stomach would unknot just a little.

  After kissing Ty last night, she’d realized how much he meant to her. That, combined with the ever-mounting number of phone calls from women in the military who wanted to wish her well, support her, or tell her their equally humiliating and shaming stories, had begun to buoy her in an odd way. Unable to sleep well last night, she’d had more realizations come to her, and she’d begun to see something good growing out of this hearing after all—regardless of the outcome.

  “The board,” Newton said, his voice echoing through the room, “has diligently looked at all the evidence in this case of sexual harassment. Because of the various testimonies not agreeing with one another, it is impossible to determine who is at fault.”

  Callie’s eyes narrowed, and she felt as if someone had gut-punched her.

  “As a result,” the commander said, “each officer will have a paper put in his or her personnel jacket detailing this hearing. That is all. Dismissed.”

  Stunned, Callie stood at attention, as did everyone else as the board rose and left the room. Fury boiled up through her, more heated and more galvanizing than she’d ever experienced. She felt Ty’s hand restraining her from moving as, one by one, the pilots filed out. The look of glee on Remington’s face sickened her. Relief was written on those of the other pilots. She glared at all of them.

  Finally, they were the last two people in the room. Ty slowly turned to Callie. “I’m sorry,” he said, shocked by the verdict. “That shouldn’t have happened. They had plenty of evidence….”

  “Welcome to the real world,” Callie whispered fiercely. She was shaking with anger. “I expected it.”

  Ty studied her pale face and flashing blue eyes. There was such determination in them right now. “I know you did.” He rubbed his chin. “I didn’t. I mean, they didn’t censure Remington at all.”

  “My career is scuttled. Give them a month and I’ll bet they transfer me out of here to some hole-in-the-wall station. Probably Adak, Alaska, if they can get away with it.” The derision in her voice didn’t escape Ty. Real fear ate at him as he considered her statement.

  Placing a hand on her shoulder, he said, “Let’s get out of here. I’ll take you home, Callie.” He felt utterly helpless. So how must she feel, after being railroaded? Worse, Ty knew that tomorrow morning she had to go back to work under Remington’s watchful eye.

  Callie nodded and walked out of the room and down the passageway. She was grateful that the civilian press had not been allowed on the station during the hearings, but they would be parked on the doorstep of her home. What should she tell them? The truth? Yes.

  Ty was silent on the drive to her home. He barely noticed
the late-morning blue sky, the golden sun touching the desert landscape. Inwardly, he was hurting for Callie, who remained quiet and contemplative.

  “What are you going to do?”

  Callie glanced at him, savoring his rugged profile, which she had once feared equaled cruelty. “Go home, dodge the reporters, lock the door and think.”

  He reached over and gripped her cool, damp hand. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “No.”

  “I can talk to the reporters, too.”

  She smiled sadly, a fierce longing welling up through her. “If you do that, Ty, your career is as good as dead and you know it.”

  “So?”

  “So, I don’t want that to happen. You’re happy here. You’re a great pilot and teacher.”

  Squeezing her hand gently, he rasped, “There’s a bad taste in my mouth, Callie. I don’t like what happened to you. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair. Just because four pilots get together and fabricate a story doesn’t make what happened to you right.”

  “No, it doesn’t. But life goes on, and I’ve got to look long and hard at my career in the navy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s over, Ty. Do you think I can go back to work with Remington? I know what he’ll do. He’ll harass me verbally even more now that he’s gotten away with it—now that he knows the good ol’ boys are going to protect him no matter what he does to me or another woman.”

  She pulled from his grip and rubbed her wrinkled brow. “I never thought something like this would happen to me. After that incident in Annapolis, I worked so hard not to overreact to men hitting on me, harassing me. I just became a ghost, a silent genderless being, praying that if I faded into the background, they’d leave me alone.”

  A touch of panic ate at Ty. As he turned down the avenue toward Callie’s home, he saw many cars and trucks in front of it, representing all the major television stations. Reporters milled around, waiting for her return. Grimly, he parked the car and glanced over at her.