Exit Plan

11. UNEXPECTED REUNION

28 September 2009 0745 Local Time

Naval Postgraduate School

Monterey, California

It was the first day of class, and he was going to be late. Jerry grumbled to himself as he walked as fast as he could, given the deep mist. The day had not started out well. It had been a very long weekend, with late nights on both Saturday and Sunday to unpack his household goods, and he had overslept. Then there was the fog. Jerry had been warned about Monterey’s bumper crop of fog days, but this was ridiculous. Visibility was a quarter mile at the very best, usually less, and it made the commute painfully slow. He was fortunate to find a parking spot along the fence line, but he still had a short hike to the nearest gate.

Jerry flashed his military ID as he entered the gate and began walking in the general direction of Spanagel Hall. He had spent most of the previous week getting acquainted with the Naval Postgraduate School campus, locating all his classrooms and getting to know the general lay of the land. But all his landmarks were now totally obscured by the pea soup the Pacific Ocean had served up for breakfast. A faint dull shadow was all Jerry could discern of a building in the swirling gray around him, and he made a beeline toward it.

He bounded up the steps and flew through the front doors. He paused momentarily in the foyer to gain his bearings, left stairwell or right? Right! Again he took off, taking two stairs at a time. As he approached the second floor, Jerry glanced at his watch — 8:03. Damn! He had just reached the top of the flight of stairs when suddenly, POW!

He had run into something, and hard. Jerry reeled to his left following the collision. Papers were strewn in the air and he heard a body hit the floor. A woman’s voice squeaked out a surprised “Ohh!” followed immediately by a more guttural “Umph.”

Jerry steadied himself against the wall, cursing his stupidity. He looked down and saw a small woman sitting on the floor, her papers and books scattered around her. Mortified, Jerry got down to help her pick them up and began apologizing, “I am so sorry. I didn’t see you at all. Are you all right?”

The young woman seemed shocked when she heard his voice, and then spun her head about quickly. When Jerry saw her face, his heart stopped.

“Jerry?”

“Emily?”

“What are you doing here?” they both said simultaneously. Dr. Emily Davis laughed, obviously pleased to see him; Jerry felt awkward.

“I work here, Jerry. I’m the Deputy Director of the Center for Autonomous Vehicle Research,” she said with a huge smile.

“I’m just a lowly student,” replied Jerry, stunned, trying to figure out just what the hell was going on. “Who happens to be late for his first class.”

“Can we meet for lunch? I’d love to talk to you,” asked Emily. It was more of a plea than a request. “I’m free at eleven o’clock.”

Jerry pulled out his schedule and saw he had a conflict. “Can’t, I have physics at eleven. How about one o’clock?”

Emily sighed. “Can’t, I’m teaching Intro to Unmanned Systems and then I have office hours at the lab.”

Jerry shook his head. Here we go again, he thought. Then trying not to sound too interested, he asked, “Since our schedules aren’t cooperating, how about dinner?”

“That would be lovely.”

“Fisherman’s Wharf, say six-thirty?”

“Absolutely. Where should we go?” she asked. Jerry was sure he saw her eyes welling up.

“How about Crabby Jim’s?”

“My favorite! It’s a date!” Her face darkened immediately after she spoke, as if she regretted that last sentence.

There was an awkward silence as Jerry helped Emily collect the rest of her papers and books. His stomach was doing barrel rolls.

“Thank you,” Emily whispered. “It’s good to see you.” Those eyes again.

Jerry nodded his head. “I’m sorry that I bowled you over. Not very gentlemanly of me.”

Emily hesitated, then leaned over and gave Jerry a peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you this evening. Now, you’d better get to class, Mr. Mitchell.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a mock salute. Jerry watched as she walked down the stairs. Dazed and confused he wandered off to class.

Jerry was hard-pressed to remember anything from that first day. His class notes were minimal, little more than the contact data for the instructor and a few scribbles on the syllabus. His thoughts were elsewhere — in the past — and they were haunting him.

At his apartment that afternoon, he struggled through his homework and reading assignments, but managed to complete them, sort of. He still had an hour before his dinner with Emily, so he plopped down in a lawn chair on the apartment’s balcony and forced open Pandora’s box.

Everything had seemed to be going so well between them. Emily Davis and Joanna Patterson were on the pier when USS Memphis returned to New London in July 2005. And after unloading Davis’s precious remote operating vehicles, they stayed for Jerry’s dolphin pinning ceremony and the party afterward. With Memphis in the dry dock for repairs, Jerry had plenty of opportunities to drive up to Boston and spend time with Emily. Those were good times.

The cracks in the relationship first showed up at Patterson’s and Hardy’s wedding that October. Emily was the maid of honor, and that seemed to throw a switch in her head. She began to talk about the two of them being more than just a couple, and even though she didn’t mention the word marriage, it was abundantly clear that was what she had in mind. Initially, Jerry didn’t see any harm in her talking about the idea. He wasn’t against the concept in principle; he just felt it was a bit premature. The two of them needed more time to figure out who they were as individuals, before trying to make a marriage work where the priorities weren’t necessarily about oneself.

The following year was more turbulent, with more than the occasional hard conversation about the future. Jerry was trying to figure out where he wanted to go next in his submarine career, while Emily gave mixed signals about moving on to academia or the corporate sector. She wanted them to be together, but she also wanted to keep her highly successful career going. Jerry appreciated her desires, but made the mistake of being blunt in telling her that he didn’t see how they could work all of the “wants” out.

In November 2006, at the victory celebration for Lowell Hardy’s election to the House of Representatives, the tectonic plates of their relationship suffered a major quake. Jerry told her that he had submitted a request for his next set of orders. He planned to skip the traditional shore tour and go straight to the Submarine Officers Advanced Course, and then back to sea. This would allow him to completely catch up with his peers and put his career back on a proper course. He added that his first choice was a Seawolf-class attack submarine, so he would hopefully be staying in the New London area. Emily seemed to take the news well, and said she was happy for him. But thereafter things never seemed to be quite the same.

By February 2007, the relationship was strained to the breaking point. Emily wanted everything. Jerry just couldn’t see how that was possible. He believed he had an obligation to the Navy leadership to pay them back for their investment, even if it had been forced. Emily had attractive offers from academic institutions across the country, none of which were near a submarine base. Jerry saw their situation as a classic design problem; you have three parameters to maximize, choose two.

The vexing part of it all was that he truly loved Emily, and wanted to make her happy. He analyzed the “data” and concluded that her career seemed to be more important at the time. Jerry was fine with the idea, they could wait until she had established herself academically, and he encouraged her accordingly. Unfortunately, Emily interpreted his willingness to put her career ahead of their relationship as a sign that he was no longer interested in a relationship. Frustrated, confused, and angry, Jerry lost his temper and suggested that they both might be better off with some time apart. His bad choice of words, coupled with unbelievably poor timing, Valentine’s Day, reinforced Emily’s belief that Jerry wanted to move on. They broke up a couple of days later; and while the parting was amicable, that didn’t do anything to soothe the pain.

Now, two-and-a-half-years later, Emily Davis had suddenly popped back into his life. It was clear from their collision that morning that she still had strong feelings for him — the enthusiastically spoken word date echoed in his head.

With a deep, resigned sigh, Jerry reached for the phone and called his sister, Clarice. For fifteen minutes she listened to her younger brother as he poured out his heart. When he finally asked what he should do, she encouraged him to not try and solve the problems, but to just listen. And, she added, to listen to the voice behind the words, as much as the words themselves. With his confidence shored up by his elder sibling’s wise counsel, Jerry quickly ran a brush through his hair and grabbed his jacket.

He paced impatiently back and forth at the foot of the wharf; stopping only to look at his watch, it read 6:43. She was late — again. Jerry took an odd solace from the fact that Emily’s lack of punctuality hadn’t been affected by the years. Or had he been stood up? He quickly dismissed the thought, ashamed that he had even considered Emily was capable of such cruelty. He had just purged his brain of that notion, when he heard her call out to him.

“Jerry!”

He turned to see her almost running down to him. She was modestly dressed, almost business casual, but it didn’t hide any of her physical charms. He had forgotten how beautiful she was.

“I am so sorry to be late,” she gasped. “The staff meeting went on forever, all we talked about was the budget and the impact the continuing resolution would have on our department. It just dragged on and on. I thought I’d never get out of there.”

Sounds just like my classes, thought Jerry. But there was no way he would say that. “I’m afraid I can’t help you with the fiscal planning process of our government,” Jerry remarked cynically. “It’s pure frickin’ magic as far as I’m concerned, and requires a bubbling cauldron and a pointy black hat to even begin to understand it.” He offered her his arm; she gladly took it.

“I don’t want to understand it. I just want those politicians to do their job, that’s all.”

“Be careful, now. You know one of those politicians personally,” admonished Jerry as he mimicked her tone.

“True,” Emily agreed tersely. But before she could say another word, an audible grumbling sound came from her midsection. She blushed with embarrassment.

Jerry laughed as they walked up to the restaurant’s entrance. “Now, that problem I do know how to take care of. And the solution is right here.” He opened the door and gestured for her to enter first.

They took a table by the large windows that overlooked the harbor. The view was impressive. A group of sea otters were frolicking in the water right in front of them, while on a nearby dock, sea lions were napping between expensive yachts. The tide was coming in, bringing with it the heady aroma of the sea.

Jerry ordered a bottle of white wine and two cups of Crabby Jim’s world-renowned clam chowder as an appetizer. He then lost himself in the menu. Like most of the restaurants on Fisherman’s Wharf, there was an abundance of choices. So much food, so little time.

“So what are you going to have?” inquired Emily. She was starting with the obvious small talk.

“I think I’m going to go with the chicken piccata tonight.”

“What!?! Chicken!?!” Emily appeared shocked. “Jerry, this is one of the best seafood restaurants in town, and you’re going to have chicken?”

“Emily,” Jerry replied defensively, “my household goods only arrived this last weekend. I’ve been eating out ever since I reported to NPS and I’m up to here,” he put his hand up to his neck, then moved it over his head. “Correction, up to here with seafood. I’ve got a serious hankerin’ for a terrestrial critter, okay?”

“Heathen,” she said playfully.

A waitress took their entree orders, while another delivered the wine and clam chowder. Both sipped at their soup in awkward silence.

“What field of study are you pursuing at the postgraduate school, Jerry?” Emily finally asked.

“Huh? Oh, I’m in the engineering acoustics track,” he replied nonchalantly.

“Acoustics? I would’ve thought someone with your experience would be more interested in the unmanned systems curriculum.” Was that hurt in her voice? Or just disappointment?

Jerry wiped his lips with his napkin, giving him time to think of how to word his response. “I seriously thought about it, Emily. I admit that I have more experience than most in the submarine force with unmanned underwater vehicles, but I also lack the equivalent experience in more traditional submarine missions and systems. The postgraduate school’s Undersea Warfare Curriculum seemed like an excellent way to bridge that gap, and the acoustics track will give me a better understanding of a submarine’s main sensor.”

“I hadn’t looked at it that way,” she responded thoughtfully. “From a big picture career perspective, it sounds very reasonable.”

It was also a lie. He had originally intended to pursue an emphasis on autonomous systems, but after his first class he went straight to the chair of the undersea warfare group and explained his concerns over an earlier relationship with a current faculty member in his chosen curriculum. Jerry then requested that he be moved to the acoustics track. It was his second choice when he applied to the postgraduate school, and this would preclude any perception of impropriety by moving Jerry out of Dr. Davis’s academic chain of command. He wanted to protect Emily, as well as himself, from any unpleasant investigation that could seriously impact their careers once their prior relationship became known.

“Would you be willing to come and talk to my class?” asked Emily. “You’re a bit of a celebrity in the unmanned systems lab after Seawolf’s collision with the Russian sub.”

“Who? Me? Seriously?” Jerry was both surprised and uncomfortable with the idea.

“Certainly! You’ve done innovative things with UUVs and the resupply concept you thought up was sheer brilliance.”

“It wasn’t all me, Emily,” protested Jerry. “Seawolf’s torpedo officer and I basically came up with the idea at the same time, and we implemented it together.”

“Regardless, you came up with a new function for an established UUV on the fly and made it work. The thought process behind executing the concept is what is important to pass on to my students. Besides” — Emily leaned forward, a slight grin on her face—”you’re here and Seawolf’s torpedo officer isn’t.”

Jerry opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it. His lips pursed into a frown. He couldn’t think of a good rejoinder. Recognizing that he had been checkmated, he sighed and said, “It’s hard to argue with that kind of logic.”

Her reaction wasn’t quite what he expected. She became somber, swallowed hard a couple of times, and spoke quietly. “I wouldn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to.”

Alarm bells went off inside Jerry’s head. While the words he heard were directly related to her request, the tone implied something else. Hopeful, but still cautious he replied.

“It’s not that, Emily. It’s just… well, I’m not very good at public speaking. Correction, I’m only slightly above abysmal. But, if your director and the undersea warfare chair have no objections, then I guess I can come by and share some insights with your class. Nothing formal, mind you, just some thoughts about what we did and how we did it.”

Her expression lightened only a little, but she sounded appreciative. “Thank you, Jerry. I’m sure there won’t be any problems from Dr. Hunter or Commander Evington. And I know my students will enjoy hearing how you worked through the problem.”

“I’ll settle for not boring them,” Jerry replied flippantly.

“Jerry Mitchell! I have never found you boring!” exclaimed Emily angrily. Her sudden emotional outburst took them both by surprise. At first, Jerry just sat there, bewildered. Then he noticed the tears welling up in her eyes, and that she had started trembling. He reached across and gently placed his hand on hers. She began crying, muffling the sobs in her napkin, and clenching his hand tightly. It was a little uncomfortable when the waitress brought their food. Emily only nodded as the plate was laid in front of her. Jerry said, “Thank you,”

After what seemed like an eternity, her sobbing finally slowed down. Jerry leaned forward and softly asked her, “Are you going to be all right?”

Emily sniffed and ran the napkin across her cheeks and eyes. “I think so. I’m so sorry, Jerry.”

“About what, Emily?” His heart was beating rapidly “For crying?”

“No. No. About what I did over two years ago! I was frustrated, disappointed, and I acted foolishly.”

“Yeah, well, I seemed to recall that I wasn’t any better. No, actually I was worse. I was the one that got angry, not you.”

“But I made you angry. I… I drove you away.” Emily paused to breathe and wiped her eyes again. “And that hurt you. I know it did. I’m so very sorry!”

Jerry pulled his hand away from hers, and gently lifted her chin. “Enough of that, Marcie,” Jerry’s use of her nickname on Memphis caused Emily to smile. “Our food is getting cold. And besides, we are breaking one of the unwritten rules of getting back together. No ‘sorries’ until after dessert.”

Jerry then took his wineglass, raised it, and offered a toast. “To a second chance.”

9 March 2012

Hilton Minneapolis Hotel

Minneapolis, Minnesota

Jerry’s feet were killing him. Thank God the reception line was almost done. How Emily could stand there for so long in high heels mystified him. As if she had been reading his mind, she leaned over and whispered in his ear, “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to sit down.”

“Ditto,” remarked Jerry. “I’ve been regretting breaking in those new hiking boots for the last half hour.”

“Told you so,” she said sweetly, as she greeted another well-wisher.

“Thanks… dear,” growled Jerry.

The wedding ceremony had gone off perfectly, with everything happening, as it should, when it should. Jerry wasn’t surprised. The joint chiefs of staff could learn something about coordination from his mother and his sisters, who were absolutely thrilled to help Emily with all the planning. All he had to do was nod sagely, and stay out of the way.

Emily had been relieved to find the entire Mitchell family so loving and accepting; her own parents had been divorced for many years and they still had issues. As the only child, she constantly found herself as the rope in a never-ending game of tug- of-war. Emily had already been leaning toward Jerry’s home state for the wedding, more as neutral ground than anything else, but once she found all those “enchanting” hiking trails up on the North Shore, the deal was sealed.

Finally, the last couple approached them. Jerry and Emily had both been waiting patiently for this reunion.

“Emily, you look radiant!” exclaimed Patterson, as she rushed up to hug her. “I always knew this day would come.” She turned to Jerry and gave him a big hug as well. “Even when the two of you were too damn stubborn to admit it!”

“I’m so glad you could make it, Joanna. We were surprised by your RSVP, we know how busy you and Representative Hardy are this month,” Emily replied.

“Nonsense! We wouldn’t have missed this for the world!” beamed Patterson. “Besides, we both needed a break from the campaign trail. I’m just glad the Minnesota caucuses were last week. Very convenient.”

“Congratulations, Emily, Jerry.” Hardy smiled broadly as he gave the bride a hug. “I have to admit I wasn’t as prescient as my wife, but I am just as pleased that the two of you woke up and pulled your heads out of your rears.” He slapped Jerry on the shoulder as he shook his hand.

“Is it true you’re going to be an executive officer?” asked Hardy with disbelief.

“Yes, sir. I’m slated to be the XO of USS Michigan blue crew.”

“Good Lord, I suddenly feel old. I think I need a drink,” Hardy moaned. Jerry thought he did look much older, but was too polite to say so.

“Congratulations on winning the primary in Connecticut, sir,” he said, instead.

“Thank you. The senatorial race has been rougher than I expected, but we did well,” He tilted his head in Patterson’s direction. “Joanna is a force of nature in such matters. I doubt I would have won without her insight and dogged determination.”

“You see, Jerry. Lowell has mellowed over the years,” teased Patterson, as she wrapped her arms around Hardy’s neck. “What he really wanted to say was ‘nagging.’ “

Hardy rolled his eyes, while Emily and Patterson laughed. Jerry struggled to maintain a neutral composure. It’s not nice to laugh at a former skipper.

“Moving on,” Hardy demanded. “Where are you lovebirds going to spend your honeymoon?”

“We’re heading north, sir. Emily has discovered Superior National Forest and she really wants to do some winter hiking,” replied Jerry enthusiastically.

“You’re kidding, right?” Hardy was skeptical.

“No, sir. Emily is quite the hiker,” answered Jerry. “Truth be told, she’s walked my butt off in California. We’re hoping to get in some good old-fashioned walking on the Gunflint Trail, and maybe some cross-country skiing. I doubt I’ll get her on the slopes at Lutsen though.”

“That’s not a honeymoon!” barked Hardy. “That’s a forced march, in Siberia no less! Please tell me you aren’t planning on doing cold weather camping?”

“No, no, no. Emily has some very strong opinions on that,” stated Jerry firmly. “Her idea of roughing it is confined strictly to the trails. The accommodations have to have a warm bed, a hot tub, a good restaurant, and a well-stocked bar. Tents and dehydrated food are right out.”

“Thank God, for that tattered shred of sanity!” responded Hardy, amazed.

“Now, darling, not everyone wants to be a beach bum,” chided Patterson sternly. “It’s their honeymoon, let them do what they want.”

“Oh, oh, I know that voice. I’d better go get that drink, before I end up sleeping on the couch. We’ll talk more later.” It was Hardy’s turn to chuckle at his wife’s expense. The two walked toward the bar hand in hand.

The dinner was exquisite. Lenny Berg’s toast as the best man was unexpectedly gracious. The first bites of the wedding cake were exchanged without incident, and Jerry launched the garter into a sea of eligible bachelors. When it was Emily’s turn to throw the bouquet, she positioned herself before a throng of unattached young women and lofted the bunch of lavender roses over her head.

Jerry watched as the tidy bunch of flowers slowly flipped end over end, almost in slow motion. Flowers? Flowers!..

He awoke suddenly, his mind racing, triggered by the vision of flowers floating in the air. Did the florist remember to send Emily the card and flowers? As his groggy head started to clear, he remembered getting the familygram from his wife, thanking him for the flowers and the beautiful card. He had left the handwritten card with the florist to accompany the roses. The message was short and simple, “each petal a thought of you.” It was the best he could do since he would be at sea during their first anniversary.

Jerry shivered as he looked around. The wind was still howling; he could hear sand pelting the building’s thin metal walls. Lapointe and Phillips were standing guard, while everyone else appeared to be asleep. He laid his head back down and tried to snuggle deeper into the thermal blanket. Cold and sore, Jerry desperately wanted to go back to sleep. He wanted the dream to continue, he wanted to be back home.