Three Little Words

I wondered if he was a good commander because he didn’t pick fights he couldn’t win. Instead, he dealt with reality. I looked at Christy with a new appreciation. She’d adjusted to being a nudist with surprising ease. She’d wanted something— me, and a relationship—and she hadn’t let a little thing like taking off her clothes stand in her way.

Harold watched me with a wry expression. He probably didn’t know what

I was thinking, but he knew the gist of it. After all, he hadn’t become an admiral by being slow on the uptake. And I could almost hear his thoughts: Son, you have no idea what you’re getting into.

No, sir, I don’t. But I’ll have fun learning.

Anne stood and gathered Marianne and Christy with a glance. Virginia appeared a moment later.

“The timer’s going off, Grandma,” she said. “Do you want us to take it out?”

“Just take the foil off the top, dear. Let it brown for a few minutes.”

The girl nodded and dashed off, followed by the women.

“Are you sure you won’t reconsider?” Harry said after they’d gone.

I started to speak, but Harold beat me to it.

“He’s sure.” He sipped his drink. “You probably don’t remember,” he said to his son. “You were off at the Academy already. But Birdy hated every time we changed station and had to move. I hated making her do it, too. New house, new school, new friends. Every three or four years.”

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” Harry said.

“Yes,” his father agreed. “Strong enough to put your foot down—”

I smiled at Christy’s defiant habit.

“—and decide you don’t want to be a Navy wife.”

“But—”

“Leave it,” Harold said automatically, the voice of command. Then he remembered who he was talking to. He added in a kinder tone, “Birdy has a good head on her shoulders, and Paul seems to appreciate that.”

I nodded.

Harold continued to his son, “Would you do something if Marianne didn’t approve?”

“No, I guess you’re right. Still, America needs more fighting men.”

“It needs infrastructure too,” his father said. “We’re the tip of the spear, son. We need power behind us. That means security and stability at home.

Men like Paul will help provide it.”

“I will.”

“I hope you do,” Harry said sincerely, “for all our sake.”

Dinner with the Carmichael clan was never a laid-back affair. They didn’t do small, quiet, or intimate. We sat around the big dining room table, even the kids, and the conversations were all over the place.

Christy sat across from me, next to five-year-old Hal on a booster seat.

She and Harry talked about a new mall near their house. Harold and his granddaughters talked about Inspector Gadget, and the girls explained how Gadget’s niece and her dog really solved all the cases. Marianne and I covered everything from Romantic poets to Star Wars. Anne switched between Penny and Brain on one side, and Keats, Shelley, and Skywalker on the other.

“Is there anything you don’t talk about at dinner?” I finally asked.

“The Navy,” Anne and Marianne said together, with such finality that the other conversations stopped.

“What’s that?” Harry asked. “Does someone need to put a quarter in the jar?”

“No, dear,” his mother said. “Paul just asked if there’s anything we don’t talk about at the table.”

“Ah, right.” He looked at me. “No shop talk during dinner.”

“My mother’s rule,” Anne said, “and it’s a good one.”

“No argument from me,” her husband said. “But… I just thought of something.” He gripped his knife and fork and held them upright in his fists.

“How’s this work? Go Go Gadget Dessert!”

The girls giggled.

“No, Granddad,” Rose said with a seven-year-old eye-roll. “We have to do it for you.”

The older girls nodded.

Anne’s eyes sparkled as she looked at the girls. “Come on, let’s show him how it’s done.”

They disappeared into the kitchen.

“Let’s clear the table, Birdy,” Marianne suggested. She put her hand on mine before I could move and quietly added, “We’ll do it. But thank you.”

I nodded and let her take my plate.

Christy set Hal on his feet, and he ran into the kitchen after his sisters.

She flashed me a pretty smile before she started gathering the plates at the other end of the table.

“We ready for the good stuff?” Harry asked his father. He went to the sideboard without waiting for an answer and poured six glasses of whiskey.

The girls and Anne returned with a chocolate cake on a festive Christmas pedestal. She helped Virginia cut, and the younger girls served. After a minute Christy and Marianne rejoined us and slid into their seats.

We lingered over the dessert and drinks until Harry and Marianne’s daughters took Hal and went to watch TV in the day room, a converted bedroom next to mine. The ladies cleared the remains of the cake and said they’d join us in the living room. Before we went in, Harry topped off my drink over my feeble objections.