“Whenis a nice word.” Her voice came out too whispery, whittled away by the intensity of his gaze. Perhaps when he came back, things really would change. If only she could communicate her wish to him without sounding forward or desperate.
Someone jostled Jim and clapped him on the back. Jim smiled at the man. “Hi, Mo.”
“Hiya, Jim.” The officer led a petite dark-haired woman by the hand toward the gangplank.
Jim gestured with his thumb. “Maurice Shapiro, communications officer. That man over there with the four little girls—that’s the captain.”
“Lieutenant Commander Durant,” she said.
The man embraced a lady who held a little girl on her hip and a cheerful smile on her face. They kissed, and the captain patted the other girls on their heads and climbed the gangplank.
His wife held up the pudgy hand of the tiniest daughter. “Say good-bye to Daddy, girls. He’s off on a grand adventure.”
What a tender scene, and what a brave wife and mother.
“Well, I’ll be.” Jim nudged Mary and nodded toward a red-haired officer, who was engaged in a passionate kiss with a pretty blonde. “I’d heard rumors Reinhardt was married, but somehow I never believed them. Glad I was wrong.”
Lieutenant Reinhardt boarded the destroyer, and other officers after him, each kissing someone good-bye. Only Arch and Jim didn’t have sweethearts to kiss good-bye. This had to be painful for Arch.
Arch strode to the foot of the gangplank, faced the crowd, and pressed his hand over his heart. “Alas, I have no one to kiss good-bye. Any patriotic volunteers?”
From the edge of the crowd, a feminine shriek rang out, and a young lady pushed her way forward, one of the other secretaries at the Navy Yard. “Me! Me! I’ll volunteer!”
“Oh my goodness,” Mary said.
Jim gave her a stunned smile. “Guess he’s over Gloria. Or pretending he is.”
The brunette dashed to Arch. He pulled her into an embrace, dipped her low, and planted a quick kiss on her lips.
The crowd erupted in laughter and applause, and Mary and Jim joined in. The patriotic volunteer sashayed away, fanning herself, while Arch swept a bow and climbed the gangplank.
Near the top, Arch wheeled around and leaned forward, bracing himself on the guide ropes. “Your turn, Mr. Avery! Kiss her!”
Mary gasped and shrank back. Oh goodness, no. Already dozens of heads turned to her.
Jim stood stock-still, his hands fisted, gaze cemented on his best friend.
“Yeah, Mr. Avery, kiss her!” another officer shouted from up on the deck.
“Kiss her! Kiss her!”
Mary sucked in a breath, willing away the nausea.
Everyone stared at her, smiling, laughing, chanting, “Kiss her!”
Jim spun to her, eyes wide. “Mary, I—I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Her stomach squirmed, not only from the attention, but because Jim didn’t even want to kiss her. “It—it’s all right.”
Jim swatted at the chanting men on the ship. “Knock it off, fellows. Leave her alone.”
“What’s the matter, Mr. Avery? Chicken?”
“Yeah, if you don’t want to kiss her, I will.”
Mary’s face tingled. They’d keep chanting until he kissed her or left her. In an instant, her concern flipped from herself to him. If he didn’t kiss her, the crew would tease him the entire cruise. How could she allow that to happen to him?
Mary tugged his sleeve. “Would it be so bad?”
