Changing Tides

Tamara Hoffa

Contemporary Romance

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Contemporary Romance

Changing Tides

Copyright © 2015 Tamara Hoffa 

First E-book Publication:  September 2015

Cover design by Cat Hoffa

Edited by Ariana Gaynor

All cover art copyright © Cat Hoffa

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

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Dedication: I dedicate this book to three military men who greatly influenced my life. My father, Howard W. Wilkinson, Navy Warrant Officer, Aircraft Carrier Lake Champlain. Dear family friend and adopted Uncle, Frank Capaci, who served in the 101st Army Airborne as a paratrooper, and his son, Anthony Capaci, who was like a brother to me, Army Green Beret.

These men all proudly served and came home to their families, but they never forgot their brothers in arms or the pride of their service.

To all men and women who wear a uniform, I salute you. Please know that your service is appreciated and respected. I leave you with this prayer.

May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face; the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again. May God hold you in the palm of his hand.

Changing Tides

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Prologue

Monica sat on the deserted beach and contemplated her life. Her husband, Dan wouldn’t be bringing her roses for their anniversary today. A chill crept through her body as she curled her toes into the cool sand. Her chin rested on her drawn up knees as she stared at the waves crashing onto the shore. The sun was rising in the eastern sky behind her, but the horizon she stared at was gray and dreary. Dark clouds hung low in the sky, promising rain would follow soon.

Today would have been her eighteenth wedding anniversary, but instead of planning for a wonderful day spent with her husband, she sat on this beach alone. She had three beautiful children. Though, Angela her oldest, was driving her mad. How had her mother survived having three teenaged daughters at once? Just one was enough to send her for a ride on the crazy train. Sixteen was such a difficult age. Made more difficult by the fact that she was raising her alone. Thank God she had her in-laws close by, she couldn’t make it without them.

Margaret and Jim were watching the kids today. Monica didn’t take much time for herself, between work, the kids and her work with the Navy Support Wives she always seemed to be doing something. She needed today. She just couldn’t face being around people. She needed solitude.

The waves crashed against the sand like the pain in her heart, swelling and rising, and then ebbing and washing out to sea. Tears slid silently down her cheeks, the cold breeze off the ocean drying them before they fell to the sand at her feet. A vision of Dan’s face the day they met formed in her mind’s eye and the silent tears turned into wracking sobs.

Monica tucked her face into her knees and let the sorrow overcome her. This is why she had come here. To cry in peace, where no one could see her agony. The children had enough to face without knowing the depth of her pain, and her in-laws, they suffered too. They had lost a son. She couldn’t even imagine the pain of that. If something happened to Mitchell—no she wouldn’t even go there, she had lost enough already. Her son would be safe. She would make sure he was, if she had to wrap him in bubble wrap for the rest of his life.

She cried for all the time together that she and Dan had lost to his deployments. She cried for her children, especially little Olivia, who would never really know her father. She cried for the families of all the men and women who would never come home from war—but, most of all, she cried for herself. How could he have done this to her? Why did he have to leave her so soon?

When the sobbing finally subsided to sniffling hiccoughs, she lifted her head and was stunned to note that it appeared hours had passed. Taking a deep breath and slapping the sand with her hands, she pushed herself to her feet. She was shocked to discover she was shivering from the cold.

Even Florida got a bit chilly in December and the impending storm and wind had dropped the temperature into the fifties. She bent to pick up her flip flops and walked toward the water’s edge. The tide was rising and she made sure she stayed out of the way of the lapping waves. Walking parallel to the beach she let her mind drift back to happier times.

She remembered the day she and Dan met as if it were yesterday. It was about four o’clock and there had been a brief lull in business at the Curl up and Dye. Monica was sitting at the reception desk, giving her poor feet a much needed break, when the bell above the door had chimed.

Six-feet-four inches of sculpted lusciousness filled the doorway. From the top of his dark bristled head to the laces on his combat boots, the man exuded a presence that seemed to fill the room. He stepped up to the counter and dipped his head in greeting, Ma’am, he said in a voice that rumbled through her core, flooding her panties with moisture.

She blinked up into eyes the bright green of new spring leaves, surrounded by thick sooty lashes, they sparkled with humor and intelligence. Needing a haircut today, soldier?

Marine, ma’am.

Monica felt a blush warm her cheeks. Sorry, Marine. Can I have your name?

He flashed a devastating smile. Daniel Montgomery, at your service, ma’am, he said with a mock salute.

She stood and gestured toward her chair. I’m Monica, right this way.

When he was seated and draped his bravado seemed to fade for a moment. Can you do a high and tight? he asked.

She’d been waiting for the question. At nineteen, she was the youngest girl in the shop, but she was also the only barber. The rest of the girls were cosmetologists. She could do a high and tight in her sleep. Sure, no problem. Regulation, skin to a two? He relaxed at her question, realizing that she did know what she was doing.

They talked and flirted as she cut his hair and he asked her out on a date. From that day forward they were a couple.

Dan was an NROTC student at Northwestern University. He was twenty and had two years left of college before he joined the Corps full time. He was going to be a Marine Aviator, a helicopter pilot if he got his choice of MOS.

Monica had just graduated from Barber College and started her career. She’d grown up in Evanston and her mom and dad still lived in town, but she finally had her own apartment. It was small and kind of dumpy, but she loved it.

Dan lived in the dorms on campus, but soon became a fixture in her small apartment. Knowing that Dan would be moving to Pensacola for Flight training and wanting to be together as much as possible, they married in a small ceremony over Christmas break Dan’s senior year in college.

The years that followed were a whirlwind. Moving from base to base. Deployments. Sometimes it seemed that they had been apart longer than they had been together, but oh when they had been together...life was never dull when Dan was home.

He filled her world with laughter and love. They were always going on grand adventures; mountain climbing, skiing, scuba diving. Everything with Dan was always larger than life. He was larger than life. That thought turned her smile into a frown. No, she wasn’t going to think about that.

She remembered their wedding night. They’d scrimped and saved and managed to put enough money aside to take a trip to the ultimate wedding destination; the Poconos. They rented one of those totally cheesy honeymoon suites with the heart shaped bed and bathtub and they hadn’t left the room for the entire weekend.

Dan was an animal in the bedroom and she loved it. He had made love to her on every surface in the room and the beautiful white satin nightie that her mother had given her was torn to shreds on the first night. She still blushed when she thought about that.

When they’d moved into their first little house in Pensacola Dan had carried her over the threshold and straight to the bedroom. She was pretty sure that was the day Angela had been conceived. He’d been there when Angela was born. The only one of the kid’s births he’d been stateside for. He had just finished his advanced flight-training program and was waiting for assignment. You would have thought giving birth was a competition. Dan sat beside her and cheered and yelled. Telling her to push and breathe. The memory made her laugh. She was almost happy he wasn’t there when Mitchell and Olivia were born. But the look on his face when he’d held his daughter for the very first time, that had been priceless.

Angela was a tiny pink bundle in his arms. A full head of dark black hair peeking out of the blankets, and Dan had looked down at her like she hung the sun in the sky. Then he’d looked at her. Pride, joy, and love, all combined in one long look. He’d leaned in and kissed her gently, whispering, Thank you.

He’d left for Okinawa two weeks later and hadn’t seen her or the baby for over a year. He’d missed her first words, her first steps, her first everything. There was no Skype then. No video chats. She lived for his letters and infrequent phone calls, but Dan loved it.

He loved flying.