Never Judge a Book by Its Cover

"Commander McConnell, please report to the Executive Officer. Commander McConnell to the XO's Office."

'Oh, hell. What did I do this time?' Nobody liked being called to the XO's office. The Executive Officer was the Commanding Officer's evil twin, the Command Executioner. I put away the report I was working on and started for the second deck.

I looked into the office and saw Captain Tyler sitting at his desk, reading a file out of the small mountain of folders that always filled his inbox. When I knocked on the doorframe, he looked up.

"Hi, Andy. Come on in."

That's me, Andy McConnell. Actually, it's Andrew, but I don't really care about that. I'm a Lieutenant Commander in the US Navy, at least for the moment.

I come from a military family. Dad was retired Army. While growing up, I got fed a steady diet of how good the Army life was, how it would make a man out of me. By the time I was a senior in high school, I was sick of it. My grades were excellent. I was an honor student, so dad started preaching about going to West Point.

I told him that I agreed and that I would attend the Academy. What I didn't tell him was that the Academy was at Annapolis, not West Point. I'm not sure he ever really recovered from the shock. He was proud when I graduated and got my commission, but he'll never admit it.

The joke got even more ridiculous when my younger brother went to Officer Candidate School at Penn State, then joined the Marine Corps. I'm not sure how dad reacted to that, but I'm glad I wasn't there to see it.

My first two tours were pretty routine for a young officer: a cruiser out of Norfolk and then a frigate out of San Diego. By the end of that tour, I was a newly promoted Lieutenant. It was quite a surprise to receive orders to the Naval Safety Center, Afloat Directorate. That was back to Norfolk. That tour would pretty much shape my naval career and my personal life.

It was an odd type of job. A lot of report writing and some minor investigatory work, mostly on construction and safety procedures. I learned how to use video and sound recording equipment correctly, even something as simple as a cell phone.

Shortly after lunch one day I was walking back to my office. Passing my CO's office, I glanced in. Captain Miller had an odd look on his face, sort of a cross of annoyance and confusion. "Captain," I asked, "something wrong?"

He looked up. "Oh, hi, Andy. Come on in for a minute. Close the door."

Wasn't sure I liked the that. 'Close the door' didn't usually lead to something pleasant.

"Have a seat," the skipper said.

I sat down on one of the chairs opposite his desk and waited. He didn't keep me waiting long.

"Admiral Case just called. Their scheduled speaker for the commissioning of the Etna just got sick. He asked me to stand in for him."

I nodded. "Okay. How can I help, sir?"

"I've seen several of your articles in the mags and newsletters. You're a good writer. How are you at speech writing?"

I shrugged. I'd done some speech writing, in high school, at the Academy and in my earlier tours. "It's not that hard, sir, if you have enough information to start with."

The Captain nodded. "Alright. So, what do you need?"

"Well, sir, there are two types of speeches. The first is saying as little as possible in as many words as possible, the second is saying as much as possible in as few words as possible. Most important thing is knowing the subject and having enough time to do the research."

He reached up and scratched at an eyebrow, a soft chuckle sounding from him. There was a bottle of water on his desk and he took a drink. "Well, let's see if we can't stay in the middle of that. They want me to talk about the history of the Etna and how much impact the Yard has on the local economy. You know any of that?"

I was a military historian, having been an avid reader on the subject most of my life, dating back to elementary school. I had majored in history at the Academy. Of course, Naval History was the focus, which fit well with me.

"There have been four Etnas so far, sir. The first three are from the age of sail, from the Revolutionary War to just before the Civil War. The fourth was an ammo ship during World War II. She worked mostly in the Pacific Theater."

"Interesting. They want me to talk for twenty to thirty minutes. Can you do something with that?"

"How much time do I have to work with, sir?"

"The ceremony starts at 1800. Can you have something for me by 1600?"

I nodded, smiling. "That I can do, sir. I'll grab a cup of coffee and get started immediately."

"This is your Priority A for the afternoon, Andy. Anything else can wait. And thank you."

I got lucky. The economic impact statements were readily available online, so it took less than an hour to get the info I wanted. By 1530 I was knocking on the Captain's door again, handing him a printed copy of the rough draft.

He looked through it then looked up. "This will do, Andy. Good job."

"Just like that, sir?" I questioned. "No changes?"

"No. This will do. Thanks, son."

That speech changed my career. Word got back to the Admiral that the Captain had given an excellent speech at the Commissioning. It didn't take long for me to be assigned to the Admiral's personal staff as his speech writer. Within a year, I had been formally designated as an Admiral's Aide.

That sounds good on the surface, but it carries a heavy price. Most Admirals' staffs are shore commands, meaning I had little chance of getting back to sea. I would probably make Lieutenant Commander, but that would be the end of my promotions. You didn't become a senior officer without significant sea time.

Early in this tour, I started attending a local church. I'm not much of a religious person, but the sermons intrigued me and I enjoyed the music. For the most part, I kept a low profile, but apparently not low enough.

One Sunday, after the service, the Pastor approached me and asked if I would escort his daughter to the State Fair. His daughter was a young adult, probably twenty-one or two. She was a lovely, tall, slender blonde, not a supermodel, but close enough for government work. When her father suggested me to her, she agreed instantly.

Her name was Naomi, named for some heroic female figure out of the Old Testament. I didn't know, didn't care. She was a delightful girl, every bit as intelligent as she was attractive. I discovered that she was already self-supporting, a published author of children's books.

We had a great time together. With her father's permission, we began to date the following month. It was less than a year before we married.

She was an affectionate, caring wife. She looked out for me with all of the dedication you might expect of a woman whose role figures were biblical women. If there was a downside, she was reserved in bed. She had no interest in anything other than missionary coitus. Still, she never refused me and she was a passionate, enthusiastic lover. I didn't have any complaints.

There wasn't any military housing available for junior officers at Norfolk, but that really wasn't a problem. With her income and mine, we were able to afford a nice apartment fairly close to the base. Naomi was an avid swimmer, telling me that it kept her in shape. Couldn't argue with that. She was in the building pool so often that the resident manager finally gave her a key of her own.

I was on an inspection tour at the Naval Aviation Safety School at Pensacola. We wrapped up the inspection a day early. When we got back to Norfolk, I chose to finish up my reports that evening. Naomi wasn't expecting me until the next day and getting the paperwork out of the way would allow me to take that day off with her.

The reports took longer than I thought they would, so it was nearing midnight when I got home. She wasn't in the apartment, so I knew where she would be. Sure enough, she was in the pool.

That didn't bother me at all. What did bother me was the two guys who were In there with her. They were in one of the corners of the shallow end. One of the guys was sitting on the edge of the pool, minus his trunks, with her head buried in his crotch. From the angle I was at, I could see her head moving up and down, the outline of his cock visible in her throat. The second guy was standing behind her. Neither had their suits on and he was reaming her for all they were worth.

At first, I was stunned, unable to think or react. Then my training kicked in. I pulled my cellphone out of my pocket and set it to record video.

In just a minute or two, I saw the guy on the edge stiffen. He dropped his head back and groaned. I could see her throat working and hear her gulping sounds. At almost the same moment, the guy behind her climaxed. When he pulled out, it was obvious that she wouldn't have to worry about becoming pregnant.

I turned the phone off and headed back to the apartment, moving quietly and not allowing the pool door to close hard.

I picked up my luggage, which I hadn't unpacked yet. Then I headed back to my car. I spent the night at the Visiting Officers' Quarters.

The emotional pain was severe but it didn't last long. It wasn't that she had betrayed me, it was the nature of the betrayal. Seeing her doing things with strangers that she had told me she couldn't do with me because they were 'against the Word of God' left me confused, uncertain and bitter.

Then, the pain disappeared. What replaced it wasn't anger, it was rage. I didn't get red and furious like many others. Instead, I got ice cold. A resentful, vindictive plan formed in my mind. The following day, I proceeded to put it into motion.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Nearly a month later we were sitting in our apartment watching TV when I saw a Sheriff's Department car pull into the parking lot. I had a pretty good idea of where the deputy was going and what he had with him. About three minutes later, our doorbell rang.

"Would you get that, baby? There's something in the bedroom I need to get."

As I worked the combination to my little safe, I could hear her talking to the Deputy. He told her she had to sign for something, then thanked her and left. I smiled. Sign for something? I knew damned well what it was. Walking back into the living room, I glanced at her, then put the DVD in the player and turned it on.

She was staring at the large envelope with a concerned expression. "United States Superior Court?" she asked.

"Oh, don't worry about it. Check out this new movie I found."

She glanced at the TV then turned back to me with an angry scowl. "You know I don't watch porn. Why would you ask me to watch it with you?"

"This new actress is really pretty and she's very good. She reminds me of you."

She looked back at the screen. Suddenly her eyes widened and she whispered, "Oh, my God!"

"Pretty good, don't you think?"

Naomi stared at the screen, then turned back at me. She had a shocked, almost terrified expression on her face.

"Yeah. You don't watch porn; you just make it. How many times did you do this before I caught you?"

Her mouth moved but no sound came forth. She was stunned into complete silence.

"You haven't even noticed that I haven't tried to make love to you in the last month. Actually, I guess that's worded wrong. I haven't tried to have sex with you. There's no love involved. Apparently, you're getting enough on the side. You might want to open that envelope now."

Shaking her head, she looked down at the envelope. Her hands were shaking and her face was white with fear. As she read the first lines of the document, her eyes closed and she slid it back into its carrier.

"What does it say?" I asked.

She stared at me, still not saying anything. She simply shook her head, her eyes glazing.

"Let me tell you," I continued. "It says 'Ms McConnell, you are hereby advised you that you have been named as the defendant in a divorce action. The plaintiff is Mr Andrew McConnell. The grounds for this action have been stated as adultery." I looked at her with a snarl on my face, my teeth hooked over my lower lip. "Close enough?" I asked.

She nodded. "What do you want me to do?" she whispered.

"Pack your bags and get out of here. Go back to your parents."

"How am I going to explain this to them?" she asked, the first tears appearing.

"Don't worry about that. They already know. I sent them a letter explaining why I was divorcing you. Even sent them a little gift with it. I expect your father is very proud of you."

She looked at the floor, biting at her lip. "They'll never take me back."

"Of course, they will," I assured her. "They're still your parents, and they're good Christian people, unlike their daughter."

Fear was written on her face, she kept looking at the TV screen then at me. "You sent that to my parents?"

"Yep. Figured they'd like to see their daughter in her first movie role. They'll enjoy it, don't you think?"

"Oh, my God," she breathed, sitting down on the sofa.

"I wouldn't keep referring to God, if I were you," I interjected. "I doubt that he's terribly interested in you at the moment. On the other hand, the other side might be."

She started to cry, burying her face in her hands.

It hurt me to hear her sobbing. I was still in love with her, but it wasn't going to change things. This was more than I could accept. I simply wouldn't tolerate it.

"Get your suitcases and start packing. Then get out of here. I'll place the rest of your stuff in storage. Have whatever moving company you use contact me. I'll give them access to your stuff. You have two months. If you don't get it, I'll donate it to the Salvation Army."

"Give me a chance, please. Let me make it up to you. I'll never do it again."

I looked at her in total disgust. "Bullshit. You'll do it again as soon as I go back to work. You're not fooling anyone, least of all me."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"That's your problem. There's one of those disks in the DVD player. Your folks have one. My attorney has one and Navy Legal Services has one. I'll give one to your attorney. That leaves me with five more. If you give me any shit, today, tomorrow, next week, next month, twenty years from now, I'll send them to the top five internet porn sites. They love shit like this. You'll go viral overnight. You'll be a star."

"But that would destroy me!"

"Oh, come now. You can't buy that kind of publicity. Naomi Fischer -- Best Selling author of Children's Books and Porn Star. Your sales will skyrocket overnight."

"Skyrocket? My publisher will drop me immediately!"

"Well, you shouldn't have any trouble getting another job. With a screen test like that one, there's a lot of movie studios that would love to have you."

"Andy, please!"

"I don't want to hear it. Let's go. I'll help you pack. It's the last thing I'll ever do for you."

- - - - - - - - - -

It caught up with me about three weeks later. In good weather, I rode my bike back and forth to the command. It started out nice that day, but it didn't stay that way. By mid-afternoon it was raining. Not a heavy rain, just enough to be a nuisance. But it made riding a bike or driving a motor vehicle dangerous.

On the way home, my thoughts suddenly started to focus on Naomi. My eyes started to burn and then they filled with water, making it impossible for me to see clearly. I never saw the pick-up. Doubt that he saw me, either. Obviously, the truck won.

I woke up two days later in the Naval Hospital. The doctor told me they'd had to do emergency surgery on my left leg. The femur was broken and my knee had to be rebuilt. There was a severe bone bruise to my right femur and I had a concussion. When I hit the asphalt, I'd slid a bit, and a lot of skin was missing from my left leg and hip. The doctors had debated doing skin grafts but decided that the skin would likely grow back on its own. It would take longer but would save a lot of scarring.

My entire rib cage was bruised, and it hurt like hell. That and the missing skin made it very difficult to get comfortable enough to sleep. They put me on a PCA pump (patient-controlled analgesia) to help control the pain. The small doses of oxycodone didn't kill the pain, but they took the edge off.

Once I woke up, there was a steady flow of visitors from the command, at least one or two a day, but it was a week before I was fully responsive. At that point the boredom set it.

Commander O'Brien came by and asked if there was anything they could do for me. I told him that I was getting bored out of my mind and asked if I could continue to write reports and speeches with a remote terminal. He felt that was a good idea, with the proviso that I couldn't work with any classified material. That was fine by me. The very next day he brought me a laptop and I started entering basic unclassified reports. It kept me occupied and the command loved it.

A few days later, I got a surprising visit in the early evening. I was not expecting Pastor Fischer to show up. He asked how I was doing and I invited him to sit down and chat for a while.

"What happened?"

I snickered. "I had an unscheduled meeting with a pick-up truck. Truck won."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Looks like you got dinged up pretty bad."

"Yeah. I've got a couple steel strips and screws in my left leg, and they had to rebuild my knee. I'm gonna be here awhile."

The Pastor looked down at his hands then back to me. "Can I ask you a few questions? I just need to clear a couple of things up."

"Sure," I allowed. "What can I help with?"

"I saw that DVD you sent us. Didn't leave much doubt about your reasons. I want to apologize to you. That was a terrible way to treat a good man."

"Why are you apologizing, dad? You didn't do anything wrong."

"No, I guess not, but Naomi's afraid to talk to you. She can't apologize herself. She hasn't stopped crying since she came home."

My lips pursed at that news. I didn't have a lot of sympathy for her, but I hadn't wanted to hurt her that badly. I just wanted to be rid of her.

"I don't want her to feel bad. Tell her she can stop crying. But I don't want her visiting me and I don't want to hear an apology from her."

"Andy, she still loves you."

"No, she doesn't," I countered. "She never loved me. If she had, she wouldn't have done that to me. The hell of it is, I still love her. But I don't want anything to do with her. I just want to try to move on."

"If you still love her, why won't you give her another chance. She says she wants to come back to you, that she'll never be unfaithful again."

I shook my head. I could feel the fury building in me, and I didn't want it. Pastor Fischer was a good man, and there was no reason to be confrontational with him.

"Please forgive me, dad, but that's a total crock. I never gave her any reason to do that to me. You sure raised her better than that. After what she did to me, how can she imagine that I'd ever trust her again. She won't be faithful. She'll cheat on me again, first chance she gets. It's just who she is."

The preacher crossed his arms and stared at his shoes. After several minutes he finally looked up at me. "I suppose you're right. I can't blame you for not trusting her."

"Dad," I asked, "considering how she was raised, the loving atmosphere you provided her, how could she do this? How could she reject her entire upbringing?" I was starting to fight my emotions again, and they were winning again. "Please help me understand."

"Andy, upbringing can only do so much. Her mother and I tried to teach her the right path to walk. We tried to be good examples. But we all have the right to make our own choices. She made some very bad choices."

"Can you pull her back?" I asked.

"Maybe. I don't know. We're going to try. Are you willing to wait long enough to see?"

I had to be honest with him. I had no interest in waiting for Naomi. I just wanted to get past this and rebuild my life. "No, I'm not. I just want to start a new life."