China Lake Read Online Free Page B

‘‘Guess who called on the phone?’’
    Anxiety nicked me. Please, not Tabitha.
    ‘‘Dad!’’ The word infused him with energy. He followed me into the kitchen, bouncing on pogo-stick legs, black hair ruffling up and down. ‘‘He’s going to our new house today and he’ll get my room all ready for me.’’
    My brother had just transferred to a new posting, the Naval Air Warfare Center at China Lake, California. He needed a few days before I brought Luke to him.
    I said, ‘‘He can’t wait for you to get there, bud.’’
    He smiled. He had dimples and a missing bottom tooth, a Tom Sawyer smile that just knocked me out. His hands pressed against the sleeves of my white blouse. His fingers were grubby, slivers of playground dirt under the nails. I knew I’d have to wash the blouse, but those hands—the fidgety fingers, the light touch—so enchanted me that I said nothing to him.
    He said, ‘‘I packed my bag.’’
    ‘‘Already?’’
    ‘‘I could have packed yours too, but I didn’t know where to put your special stuff, like sunglasses and vitamins. And, the custody papers.’’
    His knowing about that gave me an electric ache. I told him he was right to let me take care of it. He asked if he could pack a cooler for the drive. ‘‘Next week,’’ I said.
    I took a soda from the refrigerator. Stuck to the door with magnets were a dozen snapshots of Brian— in his flight suit, next to his F/A-18 Hornet, with Luke perched on his shoulders. Jesse called it the Shrine. I had put them up so Luke would see his dad’s face every day. So he wouldn’t forget him.
    In the display were photos I had taken a week earlier in San Diego, when the Constellation returned to port. The carrier’s homecoming had been magnificent: sailors lining the edge of the deck, flags snapping in the wind, and families waiting on shore, thousands of people ready to burst. I looked at the photo I had taken as my brother reached us: Brian wrapping Luke in his arms, his face buried in his son’s neck. The moment was glorious. It always is.
    Luke squeezed my arms. His dark eyes were wide and shiny. They were Tabitha’s eyes. He said, ‘‘How many hours is it until we go to my new house? I mean, exactly .’’
    ‘‘ Exactly? I currently estimate one hundred eighty-two. ’’
    Would he forget me?
    Eight months earlier, Brian had flown out with his squadron. I cannot imagine his hand wavering on the stick as he swung into the wind for the carrier landing. But divorce is a buzz saw. It slices and mutilates, and I know that despite his cool mien he felt shredded. His commanding officer knew it too, telling him to suck it up, not to let a woman give him a case of the snivels. Understandably, the CO disliked the idea of Brian Delaney dropping a fifty-million-dollar fighter jet onto the deck while wondering where the hell his wife had gone.
    Tabitha had disappeared. She emptied the checking account, withdrew the maximum advance on their credit cards, and took off. Traveling on cash, leaving no paper trail. We couldn’t find her.
    A month later the letters started coming. Addressed to Luke and mailed to my house, they bore neither return address nor apology. Mommy wishes she could be with you, but she felt too sad and had to go away , she wrote. Maybe if Daddy would come home and take care of us, things could be okay.
    They were messages from Self-pity Land, that theme park beyond the reality horizon where mirrors magnify all complaints and ‘‘Who’s Sorry Now’’ plays on an endless loop. They kept me awake at night. Did she think the letters made things better? That Luke would understand her? Intervene on her behalf with Brian, for God’s sake? The kid was having night terrors, fighting at school, and hiding in his closet for hours on end. I had shelved the book I was writing so that I could take care of him. His face crumpled when he read, Mommy loves you .
    Eventually, when he saw her handwriting on an envelope, he would