woodenbookshelf. It was a little surreal to be back under her father’s roof after all this time—but maybe a little comforting too. With all the changes she’d made, all the things in her life that didn’t make sense, she kind of liked the sight of her old panda alarm clock perched on her desk.
She’d just hit Send on her e-mail when the familiar Skype chime came singing out her speakers. She gave a little start.
It was Logan.
She clicked Accept, and his image filled the screen. She could tell her picture wasn’t coming in clear for a moment—he stared blankly at the camera for a few beats. It was a strange thing, watching him without his knowing. His long, vulpine face had a stillness she didn’t usually see in it, pensive and expectant. His hair was short and spiky—he shaved it himself rather than letting the company barber mangle it month after month—and he wore a blue crewneck T-shirt, his off-duty garb. Just a few inches behind him was a steel wall. She could just make out the corner of some kind of inspirational poster containing eagle feathers and a flag.
Then, all at once, a grin broke across his face.
“Hey,” he said, his voice soft.
“Hey,” she said, smiling. “This is a nice surprise.” Usually they had to plan their Skype dates weeks in advance, and then there was still the chance he’d miss them.
“I saw that you were online. I figured I’d take my chance.” His eyes didn’t quite meet her eyes—his camera must be a little off center. She felt like he was staring at her ear.
“What time is it there?”
They always started like this—awkward, banal. And by the time they got over the strangeness, it was usually time for one or the other of them to leave.
“Almost eight.” He glanced to his left, speaking to someone off screen. “Ten minutes. Come on, please?”
“Someone’s got a timer out, huh?”
“Yeah, it’s okay.” He turned back to her ear, smiling, and she wondered what part of her he was really staring at. Her eyes? Her lips? For some reason the whole thing—the way they could never quite sync up right—made her indescribably sad. “So Petra Landros. In your office. I’ve had that fantasy a few times, but it usually didn’t involve a missing person case.”
“She’s not nearly as sexy in real life. That beauty mark?” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “It’s really just a mole.”
“Don’t tell me that. Right now the 2004 Victoria’s Secret Christmas catalogue is all I’ve got keeping me warm at night.”
“Really? That thing must have seen some mileage by now.”
“The seaman’s life is one of privation,” he said soberly. She smirked.
“How’s the sinus infection? You still grounded?”
“For another few days. The flight doc says he’ll clear me by the end of the week.”
“I hate that news,” she said softly. “You sneezing is you not on missions.”
“This is the life I chose, Veronica.” He said it simply, without irritation or anger. And she knew he was right. He’d joined the navy because he wanted to fly, because he wanted to do something that might stand a chance of helping someone. She of all people had to understand that.
He looked to his left again and sighed. “Yeah, okay. Sorry, man.” Then he turned back to face Veronica. “I gotta go.Hughes’s wife just had a baby—he’s got to be online at oh-eight hundred to talk to them.”
“Okay. Tell him congratulations.”
“I will.” He looked at her for another long moment, his honey-brown eyes warm and sad. “You free this Thursday? Three thirty your time?”
“I can be for you.”
He smiled. “It’s a date.”
She watched him for another half second, and then his screen went black.
For a few more minutes, she swiveled back and forth in her office chair. She tried to imagine the aircraft carrier—tried to picture Logan walking down the narrow halls, beneath pallid fluorescent lights. Tried to imagine him in the gym or the mess, surrounded
She’d just hit Send on her e-mail when the familiar Skype chime came singing out her speakers. She gave a little start.
It was Logan.
She clicked Accept, and his image filled the screen. She could tell her picture wasn’t coming in clear for a moment—he stared blankly at the camera for a few beats. It was a strange thing, watching him without his knowing. His long, vulpine face had a stillness she didn’t usually see in it, pensive and expectant. His hair was short and spiky—he shaved it himself rather than letting the company barber mangle it month after month—and he wore a blue crewneck T-shirt, his off-duty garb. Just a few inches behind him was a steel wall. She could just make out the corner of some kind of inspirational poster containing eagle feathers and a flag.
Then, all at once, a grin broke across his face.
“Hey,” he said, his voice soft.
“Hey,” she said, smiling. “This is a nice surprise.” Usually they had to plan their Skype dates weeks in advance, and then there was still the chance he’d miss them.
“I saw that you were online. I figured I’d take my chance.” His eyes didn’t quite meet her eyes—his camera must be a little off center. She felt like he was staring at her ear.
“What time is it there?”
They always started like this—awkward, banal. And by the time they got over the strangeness, it was usually time for one or the other of them to leave.
“Almost eight.” He glanced to his left, speaking to someone off screen. “Ten minutes. Come on, please?”
“Someone’s got a timer out, huh?”
“Yeah, it’s okay.” He turned back to her ear, smiling, and she wondered what part of her he was really staring at. Her eyes? Her lips? For some reason the whole thing—the way they could never quite sync up right—made her indescribably sad. “So Petra Landros. In your office. I’ve had that fantasy a few times, but it usually didn’t involve a missing person case.”
“She’s not nearly as sexy in real life. That beauty mark?” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “It’s really just a mole.”
“Don’t tell me that. Right now the 2004 Victoria’s Secret Christmas catalogue is all I’ve got keeping me warm at night.”
“Really? That thing must have seen some mileage by now.”
“The seaman’s life is one of privation,” he said soberly. She smirked.
“How’s the sinus infection? You still grounded?”
“For another few days. The flight doc says he’ll clear me by the end of the week.”
“I hate that news,” she said softly. “You sneezing is you not on missions.”
“This is the life I chose, Veronica.” He said it simply, without irritation or anger. And she knew he was right. He’d joined the navy because he wanted to fly, because he wanted to do something that might stand a chance of helping someone. She of all people had to understand that.
He looked to his left again and sighed. “Yeah, okay. Sorry, man.” Then he turned back to face Veronica. “I gotta go.Hughes’s wife just had a baby—he’s got to be online at oh-eight hundred to talk to them.”
“Okay. Tell him congratulations.”
“I will.” He looked at her for another long moment, his honey-brown eyes warm and sad. “You free this Thursday? Three thirty your time?”
“I can be for you.”
He smiled. “It’s a date.”
She watched him for another half second, and then his screen went black.
For a few more minutes, she swiveled back and forth in her office chair. She tried to imagine the aircraft carrier—tried to picture Logan walking down the narrow halls, beneath pallid fluorescent lights. Tried to imagine him in the gym or the mess, surrounded
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